Ghalib

پرتو خور سے ہے شبنم کو فنا کی تعلیم

ہم بھی ہیں ایک عنایت کی نظر ہونے تک

A single glance of favor, nothing much, O’ my lady luck!!

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Life

Of all the great definitions of life brought up by many a great mind, the one that truly manifests it is short like the life itself which says, ‘it ends’. However, the enormity of trials and tribulations one suffers makes one wonder as to how come they fit into the tiniest of times an average human is allowed to spend here.

Domestic worker Shazia lived a small chunk of an average human life but the marks on her tortured body revealed an agony well beyond her 13 years.

We are largely a race of myopic merry makers, blissful in our escapism, tut-tutting phrases like, ‘life is an ice-cream; enjoy it before it melts’

The death of word, verse and dream

The malaise sat into my senses and trickled exactly into the lacunae left by the departed dreams. Now I feel I’d shortly bid adieu to whatever remaining links I have with the world. I feel like I have been living whatever Mr. Moeen Nizami said in the words below;

Hamaray lafz

aaghaz e marasim may tau kuch ma’soom say logo’n ko

bayhad achay lagtay thay

na janay in may kya kya tha, buhut mashoor kun thay woh

magar woh lafz jhootay thay, unhay tauqeer kya milti.

Hamaray shaer aaghaz e marasim may tau kuch ma’soom say logo’n ko

bayhad achay lagtay thay

woh dil darya kay mauti thay, adab may ghair mamooli izafa thay

magar woh shaer khotay thay, inhay ta’seer kya milti.

Hamaray khawb, aaghaz e marasim may tau kuch ma’soom say logon ko

bayhad achay lagtay thay

magary woh khawb andhay thay

inhay ta’beer kya milti.

Yeh anjam e marasim kay marahil hai’n

shikast e lafz o shaer o khawb kay yeh dil garifta aayeenay dil kay muqabil hai’n

An Exercise III

Here the theme is Parallax with I having all the liberty in the world to use whatever words I can. But all I am able to conjure are these ordinary lines below. I’ve promised to myself to try out the theme with some other interpretation, but for now I have all it is.

what was the point, then
to lionize

my pale,frail,filthy frame

to that of a man
for all the seasons
of love

when you gazed upon me
from a point of no return
through the scarlet
shades of what
ran in your veins,

only to distance to
a place where all
that were sought were
golden returns,
by investing sentiments.

Distances sure make
one require lenses to see;
gilded in your case.