Vaguely aware of the piles of thought
Inside my autumnal head;
Smelling reminiscence rot;
Feeling a little mislead.
I am somewhat cold
On the usually warm bench;
Almost missing your arms,
Making my heart wrench.
Spring cleaning was ere long due.
Clearly, while leaving leaves behind, you
Blew them really far apart,
Scattering my heart
To the wind.
Now I’m forever cluttered,
Trapped in autumn.
Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver on Unsplash
I was a leaf;
A new one;
Soft and small;
Nobody, I believed, could
Take away my shine.
.
The Draught did it though.
I tried hard to fight back;
Clinging to the Tree
As it tried to shake me off;
Fighting to nurture myself;
Trying to the keep the shine.
.
I survived.
When it rained finally,
I was still clinging to the Tree;
Still somewhat green.
I couldn’t wait for the shine to return.
.
It didn’t.
.
But I was
Harder, thicker, sturdier;
I survived.
In the end,
It is all that matters.
Is tishnagi ka haal kya kahiye, mere humdum;
Me hi dariya hu, fir bhi me hi sehera hu…
Translation:
What’s to be said
of my unquenchable thirst,
my Love;
For I am the river,
Yet I am my own desert.
Author’s note: Tishnagi stands for intense thirst, often extending to emotional or spiritual yearning.
Author’s note: I wrote this story within 5 minutes for a Talent Show at my office. I hope it lives up to your expectations.
A quiet house at the end of the driveway;
Too quiet…
Windows shuttered;
No one mutters inside;
No life stirs within.
Long forgotten—clean but stale;
A house no one loves.
Koshisho me kasar na thi, faqat yaqeen be-asar tha;
Me tinke beenane gaya, wo ghonsla chhod kar gaya.
Translation
It was never for the want
Of effort–just trust;
I just left to gather straws;
He left the nest.
Andhero me doobi thi jinki shaame,
Surkh seher ka intezar karte hain;
Samandar ne pyasa chhoda jin maikash ko,
Teri ek nazar ka intezar karte hain.
.
Saaki koste h husn wale ko,
Baadakash ishare pe jaam chhodte hain,
Dilbar, khol de ye darwaze,
Teri dahleez pe sare aam dum todte hain.
.
Teri inayat deewane par ho jaye;
Ek pal deedar mayassar ho jaye;
Mar k hi uthega gar ye naqab,
Hum kehte h muqarrar ho jaye.
Translation
Those who lived in the darkest night
Await dawn’s first light,
Thirst that a sea could not drown
Awaits your eyes to alight.
.
Cup bearers hate your lure;
On your cue, the drunk left his cup behind,
Love, open your door;
Dying at your doorway for the world to deride.
.
A favour he begs, besotted as is he,
To see you just a moment for;
If only death can take off your veil;
Ready to die forever more.
Context:
Hidden behind veil, muslim women have long inspired Urdu Poetry–lover’s first sight being worth more than one’s life.
Overtly, Urdu poets consider Allah as the most beautiful love, hidden behind the veil that will be lifted only after death, making death not an ending but a beginning of forever instead.
Parda hilne ki aahat se jhoomte hain,
Uske wujood se behtar koi nasha nahi.
Translation:
Drunk at the sound of curtains stirring,
No wine tastes better than the hope you exist.
Context: Urdu poetry stems from a culture where shyness is the greatest virtue of a woman. Here stirring curtains stand for a shy beloved hiding just out of sight.
Mere mehboob ki nazaro se bach ke rehna,
Wo janta hai dil kaha chhupa rakha hai.
Uski palko ke uthne aur girne ke beech;
Deewano ne afsana bana rakha hai.
Translation:
Beware of the eyes
of my beloved who
will find your heart
no matter where it hides.
Tales of love are told
mid the moment
she gazes at you
till she drops her eyes.
Context:
Urdu poetry developed in a culture where women did not speak to unrelated men at all. Poets have filled countless pages describing the language of eyes that existed between lovers; how just raising gaze to look at one could incite a love story told and retold around the fire.
Naadan sanam ki masoomiyat se haar jate hain.
Salaam kar ke milte hain, seena chaak kar ke jate hain.
Translated into a Lantern poetry
Naive
Stony heart;
Blessed my life;
And left, ripping me
apart!
Context: This piece points out the irony of “Salam” as greeting between parting lovers (a blessing for a long life).
Ye Waqt yakeenan meri saut hai.
Tere aane aur chale jane ke beech
Jo mauhalat hai,
Ek lamha hai;
Tere ja kar wapas aane ke darmiyan
Jo fasla hai,
Ek zindagi hai;
Tere ja kar laut ke na aane ka dar
Har pal maut hai.
Ye Waqt bazaahir meri saut hai.
Translation:
Waqt: Time
Saut: A merciless co-wife (translated as rival here since it clarifies the intent)
Time is a ruthless rival.
A second’s respite once you arrive
And then you leave.
A lifetime stretches when you leave…
.
.
.
Until you arrive.
Every moment wondering if you’ll return
To me is death.
Time is a ruthless rival.
Short Stories 