A Tea stall

                                        

Where the sun rises

Over a graveyard

And colors it orange.

The echoes of morning azaan

Dissolve in ears.

A Tea stall stands firm

At the corner of street

And flutters colored packets of tobacco

Shimmering against the sunlight.

A woman in dingy pink colored

Saree and shirt

Filters tea.

On specific mornings, I look at her slippers

One of which belonged to her husband

Who died last year.

Men in namaz topis

Translate Ghalib and Asrar ul-Haq Majaz’s shayari

Agony of her shattered heart

Is comforted

Till the echoes of Ghalib’s shayari last.

Some men read newspapers

While some glance at the pictures

In it.

They ask if i can read news to them.

While the news speaks of Islamic State and jehadis

The men in namaz topis

Speak in praise of

Ghalib and Asrar ul-Haq Majaz

And  profess what “taghaful” and “tabassum” means

Before they leave for work

to earn their daily bread.

Tea-stall is a pregnant woman

Trying to build a world of hopes and dreams.

Tea stall is a conviction of creating

Fearless dawn.

Man Sitting On The Boat

Artwork- https://www.facebook.com/thebekaarartist

How the tides silenced
the demons inside him;

and the silent instincts so powerful
happened to calm the blue tides.


His aggravation vanished;
looking at the ripples, he sensed
the demons inside his head
were drowning along with his agonies.


Only thing persisted
was the ripples on the blue waters;
the ripples in his head
were the ashes of his demons.


The soaring shadows in blue waters
dissolved the veil of his onus;
he was now sure of the path
in the labyrinth of turmoil.

Man sitting on the boat was now roving back home.

Oh Sire!

Oh Sire!
Do not grieve over me if I die,

because I'll take form of the air that dwells around you,
the air that caresses your cheek and kisses your head
and
when you're tired, i'll be the placid breeze that takes away all the weariness.

Because i'll be the wind, i'll touch your shoes
before you put them on
and
during your siesta, i'll be the idle air amid the mattresses and your body.




Oh Sire!
Do not grieve over me if I die,
because i'll be right there in every stroke of your paint brush,
and all the songs your lips hum.





Oh Sire!
Do not grieve over me if I die,
because when you bethink me ardently,
i'll take form of the tender melancholy that fills the corner of your eye
and
the tranquil smile your lips draw.




Oh Sire!
Do not grieve over me if I die,
because i'll be there until you begin to see a beauteous maiden
and
i'll recede when you're intimate with her.
No! not the reason being jealousy,
but because i'll take the form of maiden you embrace.




Oh Sire!
Do not grieve over me if I die,
because when your hopes demise,
i'll ALWAYS be the gleaming star that shows you the way to GO ON.





...Because there exists not a thing that comforts you,
loves you,
fondles you
of which I am not a part of.
Thence casting vengeance from the treacherous times
which compelled us to stay miles away.
So if I die, do not grieve over me.
Oh Sire!

Aurora Is Around

t'was the dawn of a splendid Sunday,
when my bones ached.

Stars were still out shimmering in the sky,

no more scared

of the shabby veil of clouds.


And I got up, when my bones ached,
not knowing if I was thirsty
or hungry.
I began to stare at the stars,
they seemed fearless.


I could feel the flames
in my body.
And there was a dream i had to protect of flares.


The burning stars seemed to protect the infinite dreams.


"DREAMS are immune to flames
and invulnerable to epidemics.
Dreams are fireproof
and bulletproof",
said stars.


Go back to sleep,
the aurora is around.
And your dream is safe, they assured.