The Soft Diamond

My eyes went to the opposite window,
And I saw many shirts,
And my eyes then came across my shirt,
And it had many windows.
My teacher told me that diamonds were hard,
Yet I knew of a soft diamond,
As rare as a blue rose, as priceless as air,
A diamond which no one could fund.
When it glittered it shone on us,
Its brightness was our light in the darkest of days,
And there was a time when it didn’t shine on me,
But soon did I realize,
That it was shining all the same,
Only I had been covered with a layer of soot,
That its light couldn’t penetrate and reach me,
Although it tried its very best.

I lost that diamond yesterday,
I tried a lot not to cry,
Though around me all were wailing.
His eyes were closed, a smile on his lips,
As if he were only sleeping.
And when on my shoulder did I bear him,
I felt the same like when I was small,
When he kept his hands on my shoulder…
I asked him once to open his eyes, he didn’t,
I didn’t speak to him since then,
And the only outcome of what happened yesterday was,
I have now turned an atheist.

The Cloud

You have been with me for the past one day,
And haven’t changed yourself since then,
As if you’d personify my dreams itself,
Only if you were a person.
I have seen you change from grey to white,
And the evening set you to a light pink,
And even tonight you’ve covered the moon,
Which makes me wonder,
Whether you wish to block out the light from my life,
Or you want me to be in the dark so that,
Your rains come as a surprise and replenish,
What’s over and out inside my soul.
I told you in the morning you look more like a demon,
But as time has passed, I figured out that I was wrong,
You look like a wolf instead, and remind me,
Of the girly story a Meyer wrote.
The wolf there loved a girl, you must know,
And I think you love one too,
And that is why you are out tonight,
To show her that your love is true.
Don’t drizzle down oh yet so soon,
Burden yourself tonight some more,
So that you burst so heavily on her,
She will come to me nearer.
You love her and I love her too,
And though the Meyer said so,
I am not a vampire.
I am a human, a human in love,
If that forces me to do things vampire-like,
It’s not my fault, to blame are you.

After the Riot

The streets are bare today. I cannot see anyone anywhere on the streets.

There’s a barrow there, upside down, its wheels gazing at the sky, as if it is unaware of whatever happened.

There’s that shop, its mouth wide open; the multi-colored bangles lie on the streets in a thousand pieces; it looks as if the shop gapes at them. Until yesterday, they were her teeth of different colors, today they are all gone.

Until yesterday the houses in that slum did not have fire enough to light their gas; I have heard that the whole slum was destroyed by fire.

The air, moves around the city, and talks to all. I have heard it say, “Oh looted shop, oh broken barrow, you are not alone in this celebration of grief. There are many more with you. We will mourn for all for them. We will indeed, but not now.

Let us first mourn for them who came to loot, and got looted themselves.

Let us mourn for them who got looted of their self-respect, of their dignity, of their happiness, of their souls.

Let us mourn for them who came to loot, but couldn’t loot the city of its history, its civilization, its health, its forests, its air, its water.

Let us mourn for them who looted only some money which is in fact, the most insignificant thing that one can rob a person of.

We will then mourn for you too.

The Cryptographer

“697 28oo e83 59eq6”
He sat and thought for a while,
Moving his pen in the air,
The coder had given him a hint,
“The answer is the letter below”.
He pondered over it for sometime,
And looked for a possible letter,
A letter which he might have missed,
Which contained the code for which he wished.
But alas! There was nothing, nothing of that sort,
And he was almost at the brink of thinking he lost,
When he finally decided to give it a few more tries,
For the fact he couldn’t break it seemed mere lies.
He switched on his computer,
And sat down to Google,
When all of a sudden,
He realized the simple doodle.
And now he could see through the code all the way,
He got up and went back and said,
“You will die today” is the message,
The coder wanted to reach you.
The people amazed, asked him in awe,
Whether he was sure of what he said,
And he said “Certainly” and then told them,
“The answer is the letter below”.
Puzzled again when he was asked,
He explained how simple it was,
To look at a keyboard of a computer and write down,
The answer which was “the letter below”.

Black Rose 2

When I was small I had a wish,
Of growing in my garden a black rose,
They say it is rare, and so thought I,
That except it won’t grow I any other rose.
Then I grew older and until then,
Every day I looked for a black rose,
When suddenly I came across one day,
A dark beautiful silent black rose,
In all the garden and in the whole plant,
There was only one, only one black rose.
It grew in the garden of one of the ladies,
My mother knew her since we were neighbors.
I went up to her and asked her softly,
‘Can I take that one’ pointing at the black rose.
She laughed for long and then she said,
‘Oh sure, but why would anyone take it,
It’s dry and dead and will wither off tomorrow,
Take a red one, or a yellow, they are not dead.’
I sighed for some time, alas, I was running,
For so many years for something that is dead,
And pondering over this thought I realized,
Even love in my heart is silently dead.
The heart was red, the rose was too,
But now that the rose had turned black,
Has my heart turned black too?

What is Time?

Yesterday I was flipping through the channels, when I came across a channel where Javed Akhtar, a famous Indian lyricist, was reciting. I stopped at the channel, but unfortunately, the show had been going on for long and I could listen to only two verses and then it ended. He recited one in Hindi which he titled “Yeh Samay Kya Hai”. There were a particular number of lines which I remember, I loved them, and since I do not remember his exact words, I am writing in my own words. I thought it necessary to make the above statements, since this post is not completely original. The words of the prose ARE ORIGINAL, the thought is not.

What is time? When I travel in a train, it feels as if I am stagnant and the trees around me are moving. But the truth is not so. Actually I am moving and the trees and the surroundings are stagnant.

Similarly, can it be that it isn’t time that is moving, in fact, time is constant? It stands there, straight in a row, centuries after centuries, millenniums after millenniums, and it is we who move through them. This means that what already had happened is happening now, and whatever will happen is happening now, only the people concerned are different. Can it happen so?

What is time? If it has already passed, then where is it now? It has to be somewhere. If it is going to come, where does it stay before it comes? It has to stay somewhere. From which mountain does it arise and to which sea does it go? It has to go somewhere. Then, what is time?

Mukhtalif – A Wish for Unity

(mukhtalif: different in Urdu)

I wish far away in the sea of this space would reside another world.
I wish their looks would be different from the looks of the people of this world.
I wish their languages would be different.
I wish their religions would be different.
I wish the gods they worship and the rituals they perform would be different.
I wish the way they see things would be different.

I wish they would land their spaceship on the earth one day.
I wish when they would come out, they would see the people of this world.
They would look at them and say, “We all look so different from you, but you all look alike!”

I wish the people of this world would believe them.

*Inspired by a recitation by Javed Akhtar at a concert I saw on television the other day.*