Thanksgiving

Chaha to bohat usko par kya kahein ghalib,
Ishq tha humko usey awargi si thi,

Bhool kar sab ko chaha jise humne,
Uske liye yeh aushiqui dewangi si thi,

kisey kahun yeh hal-e-dil tu bata ghalib,
Agar kabhi tujhe kisi sey aushiqui si thi,

Humne to lakh chaha na chahen usko hum,
Par kya kahen ghalib humain lachargi si thi,

Pehle jo kuch kehte the to samajhte the log,
Ab kehte hain to suntey hain key shayeri si thi,

These fleeting moments in life
when urges from the recesses of soul
tell, nay dictate we bow
to our copy-righted gods

Zindagi kay yeh guzartay lamhay
rooh ki ghehraiyoun say ooth ti khaahishain
kahtee hain
hukum daitee hain kay sijdaa karo
apnay mun main basay khudaoun ko.

In that foggy mist
(was it a cavern or a tavern?)
came this revealation
--our lives are but a passage
between two smiles.

Come walk with me
through the misty bazaar
decorated with pollutants
of noise, air(s)
of thought, thinking
pollutants
induced, inherited
mental, physical.
You must walk with me.

Aao meray saath
bazaar-e-zindagi ho aain
ghubaar kay aqsaam hain jahan dast-yab
ghubaar
raah ka, shore ka, sauch ka
wirasat ka, takhleeq ka
chalo meray saath chalo

Two smiles?
First smile plays
on the newborn`s lips
no discernment there.
Matters not if desert winds
or slum`s arrested smell
enveloped the infant`s mat
(and)
matters not if engineered air
surrounded the mattress.
(in a whorehouse
with uniformed attendants
whirling as if ordained).

Second smile
emanates from a still body
still body
that has finally resolved
all arguments with the temporal.


Between these two smiles
are submerged a thousand dreams, desires
yours and mine.
Sometimes
when these dreams, desires come true
another smile breaks out
unique, furtive, fleeing.


Teri meri in mooskurahatoun kay bain
hain madfun najanay kitnay khaab, khaahishain
mauj-e-hawadis gar badl dai jo nasib oonka
phir raqsaan hoti hai ek munfarid mooskurahat.

And those fleeting moments
chance encounters really
dictate
we bow
to our copy-righted gods.

Ref Pullu #23:



``I would not agree with Mannyd (reply #18) that phoopi`s punishment scene was unwarranted. I feel Shiraz did want to convey something and he succeeded in it.

Taking this article as an attack on Islam would be stretching it too much.``

Somebody said ` Those who can not write become critics`. The following comments are humbly written with that in mind.

Pullu sahib, i did not say that the scene was unwarranted, but that the poor girl`s punishment was harsh and unwarranted. I was mentally unprepared for the surprise sad ending.

Agatha Christie would spring a surprise on the reader in the last chapter, but she would leave the clues openly displayed on page three of chapter two or somewhere early on for dummies to check back. I went back and read the story again without the Evlynwood speed reading technique.

Yes there is anger in Dada Jaan about the `sorry` incident, but a subtle early hint about his volcanic temper will prepare the reader for the ending, when his religious beliefs seem to be questioned with a bleeding and screaming boy running around in the background.

In the end the story is not about circumcision or Islam but about a father beating up mercilessly his young daughter, who aspires to be a doctor.

Solitude : The real life incident you described is indeed more harrowing than your story. My knowledge of Islam is very limited, but I know quite a few Muslim friends in USA, who appreciate and love their daughters.

If it is any consolation to my Pakistani cyber-friends ( it should not be), the treatment of females in India is equally abominable, if not worse. I knew of a Hindu family in my hometown, where the brothers and maternal uncles murdered a girl and her boyfriend who had eloped together. This type of thing sure puts a damper on dating for a long time.

Currently a prominent Sikh leader(Bibi Jagir Kaur?) is a suspect in the death of her daughter.

And this is without touching on the subject of dowery and bride-burning.

Thank you. This is a truly lovely poem. I loved your alternating English/Urdu style of verse. Please do more.

Anita