From the movie, "A Beautiful Mind"

"I have made the most important discovery of my career.......

It is only in the mysterious equations of love, that any logical reason can be found.

I'm only here because of you.

You are the reason I am.

You are all my reasons!"

Untitled

Your love is the pillar I lean against,

It is the anchor that holds me in place.

Like the spring blossoms on a cherry tree,

You bring me hope of eternity.

Your love will set my spirit free,

Breaking the shackles of despondency.

My soul is content in the fountain of your love,

Secure in the knowledge You watch from above.

She knows she will join You in heaven one day,

Long after she has departed from the world she knows.

Oh, how will it be?

In a world un-known?

"Why?"

Why is it that you leave me so?

Blind and stumbling, groping and falling?

Why do you make me suffer so?

A wounded heart, a seared soul?

Why is my joy always jaded by grief?

Oh, why is my laughter, my peace so brief?

" Voyages of The Mind "

My wishes have no bearing on how Nature runs this universe, and I am quite aware of this; but what to do about the fact that I belong to the strange species called 'humans' and am predisposed to falling prey to unnatural urges and desires. I know that life is short, and time here limited. I also know that today will soon be yesterday,and become a link in history. But I want my days to linger; I want my yesterdays back. I wish for a vehicle which will transport me over the years back to my childhood days. But I have no such facility, except the vehicle of my thoughts and memories. And so I go on these escapades to flee from the chaos of my life and to take refuge in the warmth and safety of my childhood.

As I smell the heady fragrance of the sweet peas and narcissus that grow in my garden, I embark upon a sweet journey into my past. I close my eyes and see myself a little girl in another garden in another time, where I pick the sweet peas and narcissus to make a bouquet for my mother.

Ah, my dear, dear mother! I can see her sitting in her favourite wicker chair under the shade of the old oak tree, right in the middle of the garden; either reading an English classic or knitting; two of her favourite passtimes. I want to reach out and touch her, but I can only see her from afar; for that is how far my powers will take me, and no further.

The musty but refreshing smell of the first drops of monsoon rain as they hit the dry, parched earth, transports me to summers of my childhood. Somehow they seem so different now. The sun did not scorch the mind and body as it does now. The screeching call of the mynah bird and the incessant calls of the crows did not jar the senses and seem almost romantic in the distant memories.

Our spirits were alive, our souls restless. We could not be confined by walls and rules. Despite the daily ritual of my mother telling us to rest, every afternoon saw my brothers and me outside, quite unhampered by the sun and heat. Shinnying up the tall trees, collecting stones of different shapes, or finding and saving colourful feathers of pretty exotic birds were some of our favourite activities. Taking pity on the poor tadpoles for living in the murky pool in the backyard, we would transfer them to our bathtub feeling very proud and generous. We never understood why they died so soon after. Every day was an adventure; every act a lesson of discovery.

The sweet smell of burning wood carries me on a spiritual pilgrimage to visit places and people long lost to the passage of time. Even though we were used to living in the comforts of city life, spending summer with our grandparents was always a welcome news. They lived in a village called Maldive, not far from the famous fort of Rohtas. Visiting them meant experiencing a very different taste of life.

This was the time when there was no gas or electricity in the village. Food was cooked fresh on wood fire twice every day as there was no means of saving it from spoiling. Water was cooled in large earthen jars called 'mutkas' placed on wet sand for added cooling effect. Every morning we would wake up to the smell of burning logs laced with the delicious smell of 'parathas' being cooked in pure butter. To the young and hungry, that was the most inviting smell there could ever be.

We basked in the warmth of my grandmother's love as we were all very close to her. My brother and I would fight over who would get to sleep in her bed every night. We listened to her strange stories of djinns and spirits late into the night, and even though she repeated the same stories over and over again, we were never less enthusiastic and made sure we looked thrilled as if we were hearing them for the first time. Just the rapture of her closeness was enough for us.

Because there was no electricity in the village, hurricane lamps were brought out and polished and scrubbed every evening before dark. Another daily ritual was the carrying out of all the beds in to the lawn as it was too hot inside. Preparing beds for everybody must have been a daunting affair. They were carried out every evening one by one and then bedding spread on them. In order to ward off the mosquitoes, a special net was draped around each bed with the help of long iron poles, so that when they were ready, each bed looked like a little fortress set up against a common enemy, the tiny mosquito. Life was made especially cumbersome in case it decided to rain during the night, for everything had to be dragged hastily inside. Sometimes it hit early in the night and proved to be just a short burst of the clouds. Imagine the misery and dismay with which we were transported back outside. Only now, years later, can I look back and remember it all with a smile and a shake of my head....ugghh, crazy!!!

Sleeping under the stars was a fascinating experience in itself as it used to be quite a lesson in astronomy for us. It was also special bonding time with our parents and we tried to keep off sleep as long as we could so we could enjoy their attention longer. As we lay in our beds gazing up at the night sky, our father would show us 'stars' that moved and would explain how they were not stars at all. We listened in awe as he explained that they were man-made satellites orbiting the earth to gather information. Our mother would show us how to follow stars and join them to make various constellations and signs of the zodiac. She would also tell us stories related to them and how they came to be; a lesson in Greek Mythology. It is not without nostalgic emotion that I look up at the sky and recognize the Great Bear even today. The feeling is compounded by the irony that the sky and the stars have remain unchanged over the centuries, while the lives they gaze down upon undergo constant turmoil and are altered from moment to moment.

The chirping of beetles in the night reminds me of the time when we lived in Quetta. Those were peaceful times and Quetta was a beautiful city overlooked by two gigantic mountains called " Cheeltan " and " Murdar ". We would go for long walks with our parents after dinner. My brother and I would stop every now and then to examine and admire various types of beetles hovering around the street lamps or crawling on the ground. Occasionally we would hear the flapping of wings as birds flew off into the dark, and then we would hasten our step to catch up with our parents.

 I remember sitting behind my mother in the car and grabbing a corner of her 'dopatta' to see the distant lights through it. I can still feel the awe and magic of how the simple yellow light broke into all the colours of the rainbow as it passed through the silken strands of my mother's veil. It does not embarrass me to admit that I sometimes do that even now, if only to relive some of the pleasures of those innocent times.

Memories of my childhood are a cherished treasure and an integral part of my being. All those beautiful people who touched my life in so many ways and nurtured me with their unconditional love, have now gone away. But their rememberence keeps that love alive and guides me through my days.

Sometimes when life is slow, and time lingers, these memories rush in to fill the gaps and take me on many exotic voyages of the mind.

"Mother"

She is the strangest of God's Creations,

Beautiful and tender of heart and soul.

And though she may seem perfect in form,

There is one little blemish in her mould.

However may her soul be touched by life,

Tears will overflow the brims of her eyes.

She cries at every happy occasion,

She cries when her heart is ripped by pain.

Those around her watch her and wonder,

If all is well and she is not insane.

When you were little, she kissed your tiny feet,

Your cherub face, your smooth brow,

Your each little finger she held in awe.

Every time she folded you in her arms,

She thanked the boundless mercy of God.

You were the bundle of joy in her life,

Her peaceful refuge from troubles of life.

Your laughter was her reason to live,

The sweetest music to her ears.

And your tears, God forbid your tears!

Fell on her soul like molten fire.

When all was quiet and the world around her,

Lay shrouded in the blanket of deep slumber.

She lay awake despite her fatigue,

Keeping a silent vigil over you.

In her heart were endless desires,

Her wish was to see you grow a certain way.

She prayed you grow up kind and gentle,

Ready to forgive and eager to embrace.

She tried to reach you from the depth of her heart,

And teach you the value of humility;

For boughs that are heavy with abundant fruit,

Bend not but downward to the earth beneath.

She prayed you learn of the peace in forgiving,

As when you forgive you set yourself free,

From the bondage of baseness that sears the heart,

And shackles the spirit that is born free.

Her love was revealed in a thousand ways,

You understood some, while some were mystery.

You did not understand her scourge, her anger,

Why she did not fulfill your every fantasy.

It was her love for you my child,

That kept her from spoiling you with undue indulgence.

For she wished to prepare you for the difficulties of life,

She endeavoured to impart the art of acceptance.

Had she been unwise in her treatment of you,

Had she shown weakness of determination,

She would have done you no favour my dearest,

For you would have suffered the ramifications

Of her oversight and failure in rearing you.

Time is a bird that flies on swift wings,

And man may only witness the changes it brings.

Now you are grown up, enlightened and wise,

On the threshold of a new beginning of life.

It may be you are far, but in miles alone,

And never in loving heart or mind.

She knows you may have dreams of your own,

Not far removed from hers for you;

And so she prays every moment of her life,

She says a prayer and blows it your way,

So you are happy and you are safe,

And never wanting in the treasures of life.

Your every little trouble gives her sleepless nights,

Your every little wish becomes her mission in life.

She places her entire being, her very soul,

Into her silent supplications.

She is oblivious to all around,

Imploring, begging, forehead glued to the ground.

And when her prayers are heard and answered,

Again she finds her brow on the ground.

It is her desire that when she is old,

You will still love her and respect her the same;

That you will not lose your patience with her,

And you will be proud to bear her name.

That you will still seek her company,

And you will not shun her for senility.

There will be moments when you will find,

She will become a test for you my child.

It is then she hopes that you will be strong,

Will not lose heart and be gentle and kind.

Her only reward for her toils is your love,

In that is her pride and her gratification;

But that is an aspect of her love for you too,

For in your love for her will be salvation for you.

The Spring Streets Of My City

The chirping bird at my window sill,

Wakes me from my slumber deep.

The sweet smell of blossoms carried on the wind,

Plays on my senses no longer asleep.

Spring is here once again at last,

Awakening from the winter frost.

My streets are drowned in colour once more,

The dead brown trees are dead no more.

The gentle dawn breeze rustles the blooms,

And the branches heavy with their fragrant burden,

Shudder and sprinkle some of the encumbrance,

To colour the waiting earth below.

The noise of the birds nesting in the trees,

Rises and falls as it travels on the breeze.

People are taking a stroll on the streets,

Their spirits lifted by the unending treats.

The melody of the birds, the fragrant air,

The crispy freshness of the atmosphere,

The foliage of the old trees joining above

In canopies of deep and soothing shade.

The plentiful flowers blooming in their beds,

Unleash a sea of colours wild.

So the city becomes a heaven on earth,

An artist's pallette, an angel's ride.

The heart cannot but rejoice the sight,

For before too long they will be gone.

Leaving behind only memories,

Of spring in my streets and the endless delight.

You And Me!

Will I ever know?

Where I came from,

And where it is I go?

My past is shrouded,

In the folds of mystery,

And my future

I barely know.

In my heart I feel,

I was with You;

When I was not I,

But You were still You.

And so I wander,

From day to day,

Searching for 'me',

Only finding You!

In Praise Of Modern Parenting

I walked down the aisles in the book store, not particularly looking for anything. As I walked past endless shelves of books, one aisle that said " Parenting " caught my eye. I stopped and started browsing through the various titles under that heading. It was just amazing; there was not a single aspect of parenting that was not available in the form of books there. Every stage of parenthood was discussed and the authors had elaborated upon the subject in great detail.

These books provided information on everything, from how to hold a newborn baby to how to feed him and put him to bed. How to create a friendly environment around the baby and what to expect at different stages of his growth.

How wonderful, I thought, and how convenient for new parents, especially in today's fast world where lifestyles have changed so much. These books now do the job that grandparents used to do in olden days when joint family system was still the norm and grandmothers knew through experience what to do. They had remedies for everything. More than anything, they gave of their love freely and readily. Their affection was not regulated by the hours of day and night.

With the help of these books, parents are equipped with a sea of knowledge on how to bring up their children. Technically, this should help make them better parents than their own. But does it?

I must say here that I do not hold a grudge against most modern ideas, but I do feel that there should be a point where one should be able to draw the line; especially in a situation which involves something as precious as a little baby.

Every child is born unique. Not even siblings are too similar in their personality. How, then, can the same instructions from a book be followed to handle babies universally? The physical and emotional requirements of each child are different, and so they have to be treated differently too.

While these books are quite a treasure, one would be well advised to use them sparingly. Not every knowledge comes from books. Certain things come only with observation and handling.

Do not take away your baby's pacifier ( ie. in case you have taken the liberty to disobey the rules given in your book and given your baby a pacifier in the first place) just because the book says to do so at such and such age. If it 'pacifies' your baby, let him use it. There is no point in suddenly taking away an object from him which will only result in his howling and disrupting the peace of the entire household.

Does your baby want to cuddle you and sleep in your bed sometimes? Does she crawl into your bed in the middle of the night? Do you take her right back to her own crib because the book says that's the right thing to do? If you realize how soon time will fly and it will be time for her to leave home, you will let her enjoy the warmth of your love as long as possible.

Do not be too hasty to follow instructions given by a person sitting thousands of miles away, who does not even know your baby. You are her parents. Take the trouble to discover what your child needs.

Give your child the security and comfort that comes from your love and the warmth of your affection. Do not expect her to grow up faster than she should. She is entitled to go through different stages of life at her own pace. When you hasten her on, you may achieve what you desire but at the cost of something more precious which you may regret later.

Children, as they grow older, grow out of habits as they become concious of their oddity.

So, while you are measuring the quantity of his food intake to the last grain, try not to limit his requirement of love, attention and affection from you.

Nai Nasl Ke JavaanoN Ke Naam

Tiray darya maiN tuGHyani nahee hai,
Ke soCHoN maiN aBHee ravanee nahee hai.

TuJHay CHalna hai manzil hai bohot door,

Teray restay maiN aasanee nahee hai.

Raqam kernee hai tuJH ko ik nayee dastaaN

Nazar aatee hai jo, teree kahaanee nahee hai.

Teree lehraiN karaiN baataiN falak se,

Ke too THehraa hua paanee nahee hai.

THeherta hee nahee pal BHar ko BHee pal,
Guzar gayee jo GHaree laut ke aanee nahee hai.

Kamar ko baaNDH lay, uTHH ja, zamaanay maiN nikal,
THeher jaeygee, aisee chees javanee nahee hai.

MaiN hairaaN hooN ke ub tuk too ne dil maiN,

Apnee taqdeer badalnay kee THanee nahee hai.

KaraiN hum shoomi-e-qismat ka chercha her GHaRee,
Yeh sheva hai hamaraa, hukm-e-Rabbanee nahee hai.

JahaaN tuk soch pohonchay, teree dunya vaheeN hai,
Ke sochooN ka jahaaN faanee nahee hai.

Zamaanay ne banaya chaaNd ko GHar,

Jo sumJHay too, to kia teree ravish puraanee nahee hai?

Guzar to jaeygee bekaar baiTHHay BHee,

Magar yeh maqsad-e-zindagaanee nahee hai.

TuJHay baRhnaa hai aagay, aur aagay,

Muqarrar din yahaaN haiN, hayat-e-jaavedaanee nahee hai.

NaviSHta-e-dar-o-deevaar peRHH lay,

Ke yeh tehreer pinhaanee nahee hai.

CHuraya jee agar tu ne husool-e-ilm se,
To tu laaiq-e-sultaanee nahee hai.

SamBHal ja, aik ho ja, bun ke uTHH too aik ummat,
Vagarna maut teree marg-e-nagihaanee nahee hai.

The October Streets Of My City.....

The October streets of my beloved city,
Fragrant and sparkling after the autumn showers.
Drops of water from the recent rain,
Glistening like jewels at the end of bowers.

The red and yellow lights of the passing cars,
Reflected in the pools beside the road.
The water splashing and rising like a tide,
Whenever one drives too close to the side.

Fragile yellow leaves hang on to the branch,
Clinging to life though weakened by death.
One more gust of the chilly wind,
Sends them floating to the waiting earth.

The cold wind blows them through alleys and roads,
Conjuring them like an apt magician,
Picking them up and scattering them around,

Creating a musical rustling sound.

The air is heavy with more than moisture,
Laden with the rich smell of the soil.
The random crows and birds flying home,
Weary but content after the day's toil.

I walk on these streets, inhaling the beauty,
Looking up at the sky, at the evening star.

There is no place else I would rather be,

This is my city, my very own,

This is my home, most precious by far.

"Sabr"

Kitna asaan hai kehna ke haaN ker lo sabar,

KHoon ke GHoont pieyo, rooh pe reKH lo paTHer.

AanKH ho jaey lahoo, KHaak ho jaey jigar,

Rait ke zarroN kee tarah, toot ke sub jaey biKHar.

Dil pe JHelay CHalay jana, siskiyaaN dil maiN hee reKHna

Lub pe lana na shikayet, kaheeN ho jaey na kufr,

Rooh per laaKH lagaiN zaKHm, uski pervah nahee kerna,

Raasta aur nahee, yuNhee CHaltay CHalay rehna.

Aaeina-e-dil jo hua, kirCHi kirCHi kia hua,

DuKH uTHanay ke lieay, dil pe sehnay ke lieay,

Paida insaaN ko kia.

LiKH diya 'Lauh' maiN sub, aur kaha iKHtiyar diya,

Aik dil toota hua, raasta pur KHaar diya.

Jism-e-faani maiN hai dil, aur us maiN hai rooh posheeda,

ZaKHmoN se CHoor hai jo, her taraf se hai dareeda.

KuCHH BHee iKHtiyar nahee,

 Hum se sarokar nahee.

Aa gaey is lieay hum zinda haiN,

Zindagee aisee ke sharminda haiN.

KHushee se apnee na hum aaey yahaaN,

Aur na merzee se siDHaraiN gay vahaaN.

Jub bulaey ga hamaiN

CHHoR daiN gay yeh jahaaN.

The Lotus Pond

The bumpy narrow winding road,

Snakes around the woods and hills;

And veers off on a sudden tangent,

To disappear in a clump of trees.

I follow the path I cannot see,

So thick are the trees surrounding me.

The pristine silence of the warm spring day,

Occasionally broken by the cooing dove.

And frogs making merry in lively concert,

Leaping out of the water to rest.

The fragrance in the air is a precious gift,

Floating down from the blossoms around.

The woods come abruptly to a sudden end,

Revealing a clearing that hosts a pond.

A pond with heavenly lotus in bloom,

Shaded by the leaning willow trees.

And seated on the jutting rocks beneath,

Two lovers gazing passionately in each other's eyes.

Bold and timid at the same time,

They touch hands lightly, afraid to do more.

But the frogs in the lotus pond are singing,

Giving them heart to shed their fear.

And so they move closer, and closer still,

She rests her delirious head on his shoulder;

She is more dauntless, more driven by love,

For she divorces tradition and presses her lips,

To his flushed, feverish burning cheek.

Emboldened, he gathers her up in his arms,

And holds her tight against his heart,

She raises her face and he seals her lips,

With a kiss that promises commitment for life.

To Those Who Are No More!!!

The dead lie cold, insensitive,
Unfeeling and distant.
They do not care
What they have done;
In what ruin they leave
Lives behind them.
They do not care
That with them they take
The sunshine of faces,
The lustre of eyes,
The laughter of souls;
They do not care!!
For their faces lie open
Not to the life they leave behind,
But to the Eternity that lies ahead!!

GHam- e - BekaraN

Lagay itnay zaKHm dil pe,
Ke guzar gaey hum jaaN se.
KaraiN kis se ub gila hum,
Is falak se ya jahaaN se.

Kia jin pe hum ne takia,
Voh subhee adam siDHaray,
Unhay BHa gaeya jahaaN voh
Na KHabar milay jahaaN se.

Na palat ke deKHtay haiN,
Na pukaar dil ki suntay.
Raha vaasta na un ko
Hamaaray dil-e-veeraaN se.

Jub BHee unhay pukaarey,
Yeh dill taRap taRap ke.
Laut aaeN sub sadaeN
Pehlay hee asmaaN se.

Dil KHoon bun ke tapkay,
Tun zindagee se jaey.
Koi kaisay sub samBHalay,
Sho'la-e-GHam-e-bekaraaN se.

Sub kuCCHH hee jul gaeya ho,
Jub GHam kee aaNDHeoN maiN,
Na milay koi kinaara
Na nija'at is biyabaaN se.

KaraiN laaKH un se minnat,
DiKHaeN jigar ke CHHaalay,
Na hai faida taRap ka,
Na hee sood is fuGHaaN se.

THE WILD HEART

I came upon this wilderness,

"How wild this wilderness is," I said.

"But the wilderness of my wild heart,

Surpasses the wilderness of this wilderness!"

Dil-e-VeeraN

Mera dil ruka ruka sa, yeh jigar kata kata sa,
BaRhay hausla yeh kaisay, jo rahay gira gira sa.

Hai voh ajnabee sa lekin, keuN lagay diKHa diKHa sa,
JanamoN se janta hooN, PHir hai keuN naya naya sa?

Koi baat BHee karay voh, to lagay gila gila sa,

Koi rishta- e- azal hai, jo lagay juRa juRa sa.

Koi kashash e mustaqil hai, voh jo hai mera mira sa,

THa muhabbatoN ka aadee, naKHal- e- dil hara BHara sa,

Hua nafratoN ka aadee, vohee dil jala jala sa.

Nahee dil maiN koi raNg ub, jo na ho uRa uRa sa,

Na to rooh maiN sakooN voh, na hee munn KHila KHila sa.

Hua zindagee sey aari, yeh jahaaN luta luta sa,
Yeh bala ki bay yaqeeni, hai eemaN bika bika sa.

Hua saaNs layna dooBHar, ke samaN GHuta GHuta sa,
KeuN nazar maiN yeh veerani, keuN yeh ser JHuka JHuka sa.

KaheeN jaaN dari dari si, kaheeN dil dara dara sa,
Hai yeh piyar ki tammanna, ya diya buJHa buJHa sa.

Kabhee ho ga KHatm aaKHir, yeh safar bay aab- o- giah sa,

Barasay ga meeNh ik din, hai yaqeeN zara zara sa.

My Paradise Lost

How sad, but true
That we take for granted,
All the bounties of life,
And choose to remain oblivious
To the depths of Life,
To the enigma of Death.

Does ever a day go by
Without the cry of a funeral?
Have ever we met one
Untouched by the hand of Death?

And yet it is,
That we give it no thought.
Nor place in our lives,
Until it forces its might on us.

Death is no respector of persons,
Though it claims the same from us.
It is a thief, it steals our life,
It spares none, it comes to all.

It pays no heed,
To the pleas of a widow,
Nor does it succumb,
To the tears of an orphan.

Never does it return to its Maker
Empty of hand,
Never does it transgress
His command.

Oh why did I not see
The writing on the wall?
Why could I not see
You were weak and fragile?

I sheltered in the thought
You would always be there.
That you could desert me,
Was not a possibility.

I saw the tears in your eyes,
As we said goodbye.
As you stood in the doorway,
Until you could no longer see me.

There were no words,
But your eyes said it all.
" Is this the last time?
Or will I see her again?"

How I wish I could hear,
That silent prayer in your heart.
"Oh let there be other times,
Let not this be the last!"

There will be time in future I thought,
When you would be there,
And I would be free.
Then it would be just, you and me.

I would be free to sit with you,
To talk to you, and listen to you,
To share with you,
And confide in you.

But alas!
It was not meant to be!
I waited too long,
For I was a fool.

Fate was mocking my ignorance,
Shaking her head at my blindness.
I trusted in her and she failed me,
Taught me a lesson of reality.

That you were a candle in the wind,
I failed to see.
For you had always been,
The lighthouse of my sea.

I could not see that you were waiting,
That you were tired
And ready
To rest.

That you were eager to leave
And meet Him.
That you were closer to Him
Than me.

Now I know that you were always with Him,
For He listened to you,
When I did not.
I had failed you, and knew it not.

You saw
What I did not.
You knew
What I did not.

For even though
It tore your heart,
You had made your choice long ago
Between your love for Him and me.

And so it was,
That you were at peace,
As much with Him
As with yourself.

I found you quiet,oh, so quiet;
But in your heart you were not;
For you were always
Conversing with Him.

Would I be wrong to believe
That He talked to you too?
For what else could be
Behind that tranquil peace?

That frownless brow,
That smile on your lips,
The memory of your silence,
Blights my soul.

Will there ever be
A time for atonement?
Will you let me undo what I did?
And do what I did not?

Will you ever forgive me?
In my question lies my hope
To hear you say 'yes',
In your answer lies the secret of my peace.

Please forgive me,
Though I do not deserve your forgiveness.
Please forgive me
Though I am the blackest of your sheep.

Though I never said it,
And though I never showed it,
You were the cornerstone of my life;
You were the reason for my life.

If you could only see me
Now that you are gone.
I stand in the rain
Without shelter, desolate and forlorn.

I long for the cool warmth of your love,
As I burn in the scorching heat
Of the desert of life.
And I search for the shading canopy, of your affection.

For you were my shelter
And you were my shading tree.
Without your forgiveness,
My paradise is lost.
And so is my soul
Lost without you,
Mother dear.

"The Picture Of Dorian Gray"

Turning the key very carefully in the rusted lock, I slowly opened the door and stepped inside.
How empty, sad and quiet. The house had been abandoned years ago. I felt suffocated as dust choked me. My first instinct was to pull the curtains, open the windows and rush back outside for fresh air.
Houses are built with a lot of care and passion and have to be maintained with the same. Rooms need to be aired, the gardens need to be tended with care, bushes trimmed and trees pruned regularly. A house where none of these activities takes place, soon earns the reputation of being 'haunted', and rightly so. Any place that is so neglected, and lacks signs of normal human existence will surely become a haven for 'the others'.
The human soul is such a house my dear friends; a very delicate, fragile house; a house built by none other than God Himself. And this house has windows too.......countless windows. To name just a few, love and fear of God, love for all His creatures, love of nature,compassion, tolerance and the ability to embrace everyone with their faults; equal sense of justice for all, humility, charity and mercy.
Each of these windows brings new life and nourishment to the soul. As we close one, it paves the way for the next to shut down, and one by one, over a period of a lifetime, all the windows are sealed and the soul is choked to death.
 And what is a man without a soul, but an animal; a slave to the demons of desire?
In order to maintain the house of our soul so that love grows and happiness flourishes in it, we need to keep all the windows open. Close even one of them and the soul begins to stagnate. Gradually it becomes putrid, just like the water in a closed pond. Very stealthily, the foulness of the soul takes over the entire body that encases it. When that happens, even the most handsome of men will lose their charm and beauty to the ugliness of their dying soul. As our ugly deeds alter the beauty of our soul, so do they cause our face to become hideous and repulsive; for the face is the mirror of our soul!
The reason why Muslims of a thousand years ago were so great is that they had kept their souls flourishing by keeping their windows open. They learned from others and embraced people and ideas without selfish prejudice and malice. They were magnanimous people and sought 'ilm' or knowledge rather than power. The latter fell in their lap without struggle, as a result of their intellectual pursuits.
History has proven that the great fame and success of the Muslims were generated primarily not so much by their military superiority as by their acts of extraordinary kindness, tolerance and generosity. The extended periods of their rule over vast regions of the world is accepted today, even by the west, as the greatest time of all, for learning and advancement of art, culture and science. It was a period of unimaginable glory and enlightenment for the Muslims of those days.
Alas, no more!!!
Why is it that today Muslims all over the world are suffering humiliation, indignity and oppression? Why is it that we no longer hear Muslim names in the fields of medicine, astrology, mathematics; all areas where Muslims were the pioneers of knowledge and discovery? Why do we hear of them bracketed only with violence, barbarism and brutality?
The answer is simple: We have closed all the windows. The 'rooms' of our souls need 'airing', the gardens need tender care and love. We are forever obsessed with the well being of our bodies, little realizing that bodies cannot be separated from souls.Our souls need nourishment of a different kind which only comes from self effacement and love for humanity.We forget that while our bodies will perish, our souls will not.
Let us open our closed windows, one window at a time.
Let us forget our conceited desires and rise above our biases.
Let us begin a new phase of life; a phase of love and kindness, of peace and tolerance.
Let us bring hearts and souls together.
Let us never forget the story of " The Picture Of Dorian Gray".

My Favourite From Iqbal

1.

Gaisooey tabdar ko, aur bhee tabdar ker,

Hosh- o- khirad shikaar ker, qalb- o- nazar shikaar ker.

2.

Na uthha phir koi Rumi ajam kay lala zaaron se,
Vohee aab o gil e Iraan, vohee Tabrez hai saaqi.
Nahee hai na ummeed Iqbal apni kisht e veeraan se
Zara num ho to yeh mattee barri zerkhaiz hai saaqi.

3.

Laa PHir ik baar vohee baada o jaam aiy saaqi,
Haath aa jaey muJHey mera muqaam aiy saaqi.
ISHq kee teGH e jigardaar uRRa lee kis nay
Ilm ke haTH maiN KHali hai nayaam aiy saaqi.

4.

TuJHey yaad kia nahee hai, merey dil ka voh zamana
Voh adabgahey muhabbat, voh nigeh ka taziana.
NaheeN is KHulee fiza maiN, koi goSHa e faraGHat
Yeh jahaN ajab jahaN hai, na qafas na aaSHiana.
Merey KHak o KHoon se too ne yeh jahaN kia hai paida
Sila e SHaheed kia hai, tub o taab e javidaana.
Teree bunda pervaree se merey din guzar rahay haiN
Na gila hai dostooN se na SHikayet e zamana.

5.

Apni jaulaN gah zair- e- aasmaN samJHa THa maiN

Aab- o- gill ke KHel ko apna jahaaN samJHa THa maiN

Bay hijaabee se tiri toota nigahoN ka talism

Ik ridaa-e- neelgooN ko aasmaN samJHa THa maiN

KaarvaN THuk ker fizaa ke paich- o- KHum maiN reh gaeya

Mehr- o- mah- o- muSHtaree ko hum anaaN samJHa THa maiN

ISHq kee ik just nay taey ker diya qissa tamaam
Is zameen o asmaaN ko bay karaaN samJHa THa maiN

Keh gaeeN raaz e muhabbat perda darihaey SHauq
THee fuGHaN voh BHee jisay zabt e fuGHaN samJHa THa maiN.

6.

Tu abhee rehguzar main hai, qaid- e- maqaam se guzar

Misr- o- Hijaz se guzar, Paaras- o- Shaam se guzar.

Jis ka amal hai bay gharaz, us kee jaza kucchh aur hai

Hoor- o- khiyam se guzar, bada- o- jaam se guzar.

Tera imaam bay huzoor, teree namaz bay suroor
Aisee namaz se guzar, aisay imaam se guzar!

7.

Phir chiragh- e- lala se raushan huay koh- o- daman

Mujjh ko phir naghmon pe uksaanay laga murgh- e- chaman

Husn- e- bay pervah ko apnee bay naqabee ke liey

Hon agar shehron se bun piyaray to shehr acchhay ke bun

Apnay mun main doob ker pa ja suraagh- e- zindagee

Tu agar mera nahin buntaa na bun apna to bun.

Mun kee duniya! Mun kee duniya soz o mustee jazb o shauq
Tun kee duniya! Tun kee duniya sood o sauda makr o fun

Mun kee daulat haath aatee hai to phir jaatee naheen
Tun kee daulat cchhaon hai, aata dhun jaata hai dhun.

Mun kee duniya main na paya main ne afrangee ka raaj
Mun kee duniya main na dekhay hum ne shaikh o berhaman

Paani paani ker gayee mujh ko qalander kee yeh baat
Tu jhuka jub ghair kay aagay, na mun tera na tun.


8.

Ummeed e hoor ne sub kucchh sikha rekhha hai vaaez ko,

Yeh hazrat dekhnay main seedhay saaday bholay bhalay hain!

9.

Aalam hai GHulam us ke jala-e-azalee ka,

Ik dil hai ke her lehza ulaJHta hai KHirad se.

10.

Tiray azaad bundoN kee, na yeh duniya na voh duniya,

YahaaN mernay kee pabundee, vahaaN jeenay kee pabundee.

11.

KHiradmandoN se kia pooCHHooN,

Ke meri ibtidaa kia hai,

Ke maiN is fikr maiN rehta hooN,

Ke meri intihaa kia hai.

12.

Aalam-e-aab-o-KHak maiN

Terey zahoor se firoGH,

Zarra-e-reg ko diya

Too ne tuloo-e-aftaab.

Shauq agar tera na ho

Meri namaaz ka imaam,

Mera qiyam BHee hijaab

Mera sujood BHee hijaab.

13.

Nahee tera nashaiman qasr-e-sultani ke gumbed per,

Tu shaheeN hai basaira ker pahaaRoN kee chttaanoN per.

14.

Nazar nahee to merey halqa-e-suKHan maiN na baiTHH,

Ke nukta haaey KHudee haiN misaal-e-taiGH-e-aseel.

Ghareeb-o-sada-o-rangeeN hai dastaan-e-haram,

Nihayet is ki Hussain, ibtida hai Ismael.

15.

KHo na ja is sehr-o-shaam maiN aiy sahib-e-hosh,

Ik jahaaN aur BHee hai jis maiN na farda hai na doosh.

16.

KHudee ke saaz maiN hai umr-e-javedaaN ka suraGH,

KHudee ke soz se raushan haiN ummatoN ke chiraGH.

Hui na zaaGH maiN paida buland pervazi

KHarab ker gaee shaheeN baCHay ko suhbat-e-zaaGH.

17.

Na ker zikr-e-firaq-o-ashnaee,

Ke asl-e-zindagee hai KHud numaee.

Na duniya ka ziaN hai, naey guhar ka,

Dil-e-darya se gohar kee judaee.

18.

Haqeeqat KHurafat maiN KHo gaee,

Yeh ummat rivayat maiN KHo gaee.

BuJHee ishq kee aag, anDHair hai

MussalmaN nahee raaKH ka DHer hai.

TaRapnay PHaRaknay kee taufeeq day,

Di-e-Murtaza, Soz-e-Sideeq day!!

19.

SitaaroN se aagay jahaaN aur Bhee haiN

ABHee ishq ke imtihaaN aur BHee haiN

Qana'at na ker aalam-e-rung-o-boo per,

CHaman aur BHee ashiyaaN aur BHee haiN.

Tu shaheeN hai pervaaz hai kaam tera,

Tiray saamnay asmaaN aur BHee haiN.

Isi roz-o-shub maiN ulaJH ke na reh ja

Ke teray zaman-o-makaaN aur BHee haiN.

20.

YooN to Sayyed BHee ho, mirza BHee ho AfGHaan BHee ho,

Tum saBHee kuCHH ho batao Mussalmaan BHee ho?

Dances With The Rain

Heavy clouds gather in the sky; chasing winds hastening the darkness they tow. Lightning crisscrosses across the horizon followed by rumbling thunder in the distance. The air is already moist and fragrant, betraying the presence of rain elsewhere, not far off. I hold my breath in anticipation as my heart waits excitedly. And as the first large drops descend upon the parched earth, it seems they fall upon the dry soil of my thirsty soul. The dead earth comes to life and so does my spirit. It dances to the sweet melody of the rain. My heart rejoices. People run for cover, cursing and grumbling as they are forced to abandon their plans. But my heart becomes restless. As I see people eager to seek shelter, I long for the freedom of the outdoors. My spirit yearns to embrace and merge with the beauty of nature.
And so it is, that I leave the confines of my home and set out. I head towards the ocean and walk beside the excited waves. The only other creatures out there are some large sea gulls and pelicans. As I seek nourishment for my soul, they are foraging for food to sustain their bodies. I watch them in fascination as they hover precariously over the water, miraculously poised, maintaining a safe distance as they peer down into the dark depths of the ocean to spot fish. The slightest tip of the wing could mean the end for them. But they do not err; for that is the destiny of man alone. They have unwavering faith in their Navigator, while man is steered by 'free will' and 'mind', and invariably failed by both.
I allow the moisture laden wind to toss my hair from under the cap. The rain beats down on my face, hitting like sharp pellets, but it doesn't bother me; the pleasure derived is too great to allow a little discomfort to stand in the way.
The rain lifts my spirit and carries my soul on its wings, enabling it to soar beyond the boundaries of human limitations. My soul seems to abandon its physical confines for a moment and is able to view life from a different perspective.
Ah! how futile are human endeavours and pursuits of worldly wealth, how perishable and transient all things material, and how valuable and enduring, qualities like humanity,generosity and love. It is not difficult to understand why since time immemorial, men have forsaken all that is frivolous and arbitrary, in pursuit of things more sublime and lasting; for that is the true purpose of life. When God created man, He planted in him the best of His own attributes; for He wished man to be the mirror in which He could see His own image.
And what, pray, is the mirror but a sheet of glass, without the qualities of what it reflects?
Hour upon hour I walk, my soul and heart drawing their very essence from the descending rain. The shackles of slavery to the god of my ego are shattered and I feel liberated, exhilarated. Perhaps the strong opposing wind slackens my pace a little but it does not stop me. On the contrary, it quickens my heart and strengthens my resolve.
I look up into the dark sky and silently thank God for His blessings. I wish the rain to go on. Just as it collects in narrow streets and alleys and washes the dirt down the gutters, so do I wish it to wash away the impurities and blemishes in the alleys of my soul.
I need the clarity it brings to my thoughts and the life it lends to my existence.
I need the rain to be alive;
I need the rain to carry on.

My Favourite Verses

INSCRIPTION ON THE TOMB OF MALIKA NUR JEHAN IN LAHORE

Ber mazar-e-ma ghariban,
Nai chiraghe nai gule.
Nai perey pervana soozad,
Nai sada-e-bulbule

BAHADUR SHAH ZAFAR

1.
Lagta nahin hai ji mera
Ujrey deyar main.
Kis ki bani hai alam e
Na payedar main.

In husraton se keh do
Kahin aur ja basain.
Itni jagah kahan hai
Dil e daghdar main.

Umar e daraz maang ke
Laey they chaar din.
Do aarzoo main kut gaey
Do intizaar main.

Kitna hai bud naseeb Zafar
Dafn ke liey
Do guz zameen bhe na milli
Kuey yaar main.


MIR

1.
Nazuki un ke lub ki kia keheyay,
Punkhari ik gulab ki si hai.

Mir in neem baz aankhon main,
Sari musti sharab ki si hai.


MIRZA ASADULLAH KHAN GHAALIB

1.
Dil he to hai, na sang o KHisht,
Dard se BHar na aaey kyoN?
RoeNgay hum hazaar bar
Koi hamaiN sataey kyoN?

Qaid e hayat o band e GHam
Asl maiN dono aik haiN
Maut se pehlay aadmi
GHam se nijaat paey kyoN?

HaaN vo nahiN KHuda parast
Jao vo be vafa sahee
Jis ko ho deen o dil azeez
Us ki gali maiN jaey kyoN?

GHalib e KHasta ke baGHair
Kaun se kaam bund haiN?
Roiye zaar zaar kia
Keejiye haay haay kyoN?


2.

Aa ke meree jaan ko qaraar nahiN hai,
Taaqat e bedaad e intizaar nahiN hai.

3.

Dard minnat kash e dava na hua
MaiN na aCHa hua bura na hua.

Hai KHabar garm un ke aaney kee
Aaj hee GHar maiN boriya na hua.

Jaan dee, dee hui usee kee THee
Haq to yeh hai ke haq ada na hua.

KuCHH to paRHeay ke log kehtey haiN
Aaj GHalib Ghazal sara na hua.


4.

Koi ummeed ber nahiN aati
Koi soorat nazar nahiN aati

Maut ka aik din muqarrar hai
NeeNd keuN raat bhar nahiN aati

Aagay aati thi haal e dil pay haNsi
Ub kisi baat par nahiN aati

Hum vahaN haiN jahaN se hum ko BHee
KuCCHH hamari KHabar nahiN aati

Kaaba kis mouNH se jao gay GHalib
Sharm tum ko magar nahiN aati





 

Through The Window ( while travelling from Islamabad to Lahore )

Trees rushing by,

Like scenes from a movie,

Flying past as if in a haste,

To catch the fleeting moments,

Forever vanishing in the wink of an eye.

The lucid sun slipping slowly down,

An enormous ball of cool fire;

Hanging low just above the trees,

Already farther down.

Lush green patches of wheat and rice,

And the baked brown paths of dirt.

One chasing the other

Like playful children on a sandy beach.

No more than a blur

As I look out of the window,

But far in the distance,

Turning and swaying dizzily

Like the tireless Derveshes of the Mevlana.

I look again,

The trees are far away,

And the birds flying home,

Forming the sign of victory.

Oh, is there anything more beautiful,

Than my love, my country?

Through the distant trees

I see little hamlets;

Mud houses plain and humble.

Bare necessity, a roof over heads,

Inadequate and comfortless,

Against the untamed beast of nature.

The sun has lost its angry heat,

Now only half above the horizon.

Giving way to the gathering dusk.

Shadows mingling with the fading light,

The greens and the browns no longer apart.

I see smoke rising,

From chimneys behind the trees

Adding to the evening's melancholy;

Humble souls in modest homes,

Stoid, serene and staid in their ways;

Closer than any to reality.

As darkness closes in,

And devours the beautiful earth;

I close my eyes, and say a secret prayer;

God! please keep my land!

Save my people

From the demons

Of lust, and greed, and power;

And save it first

From the enemy within;

For,

Is there anything more beautiful

Than my beloved country???

My favourite verses

IQBAL:

1.
Karvan thuk ker fiza ke paich o khum main reh gaeya,
Mehr o mah o mushtri ko hum anan sumjha tha main.

2.
Kabhi ai haqeeqat e muntazir,
Nazar aa libas e mijaz main.
Ke hazaroon sajday tarap rahey
Hain meri jabeen e nayaz main.

Jo main ser b sajda hua kabhi
To zameen se aaney lagi sada,
Tera dil to hai sanam aashna,
Tujhey kia milay ga namaz main.

KHALIL GIBRAN:

ON CHILDREN

Your children are not your children,
they are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you;
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might,
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

BEKHUD BADAYUNI:

1.

Jaadoo teree baatoN maiN hai, aaNKHoN maiN hai afsooN,

Laikin kaBHee kuCHH GHair pe CHaltay nahee deKHaa.

2.

Mehroomi-e-taqreer se ye haal hai BeKHud,

Aaj us ka gumaan BHee nahee kel jis ka yaqeen THaa.

HALI:

1.

Yaa Rub is iKHtilaat ka anjaam ho bKHair,

THa us ko hum se rabt, magar is qadar kahaaN.