Of a Sweet Forlorn Kiss.

She dreams of the rose that was so red as he put it in her golden tresses
Sweet scented as his face brushed ever so slightly against them
Silky, shiny golden tresses
Her sweetest smile, enhanced like a bejewelled crown with her pearly white teeth
Betwixt her rosy pink lips,
Hiding her soft, sensous mouth
Inviting to the hidden treasures of her person.
Love, oh what a sweet word,
Formed in his mind,
Waking up in her young heart.
The melodious lark sings on the bougainvillae boughs
She is happy with the advent of spring
The dew drops shine  tremolously
On the fresh green grass
Velvety beneath their feet.

Love's forlorn kiss,
Anticipated anxiously
Will it happen,
She cannot breath almost
Eyes closed, 
Wondering 
And then it is time to wake up! 

An Urban Life, A Song of Hope !

\"I learnt that prejudice is the worst prison"
So sings a sweet crooner from Favela, Rio de Janiero, Brazil,
On BBC!
A thought arises in my mind
A song
A poem

Of Hope and Despair
Methinks of
A Flower and a Star
A Blooming Act
A Falling Deed
In between I stand
In Karachi, In Favela, In Johannesburg
Of Slums and Shanties
Tales That I and you, Spun
An Entangled Spider's Web
Of Tinned Roofs
With holes and spaces
To let the rain in
Sometimes
Of Smokey Stoves, Street Dogs, Stench
And Home Cooking!

My Urban Existence
A mixture of jeans, teeshirts and broken shoes
Burnt Cigarettes, Drugs and Coins
Coins that I Collect
Fascinatingly as a Child
Essentially as a Student
And then these Green, Green Notes
A stab in your back, my back, their backs
Society returns, gives back Nothing
But then I have Loved, Hated, Hoped and Despaired
My Final Destination is always
The truth, through Justice
Through Knowledge
I have found out the best Truth,
The only Truth,
That

" Prejudice is the Worst Prison"

Brazilian Singer from Favela, Rio de Janiero.

Paani, Tera Mera Wujood! Water, Yours and Mine Existence.

Aur dekhna aahista aahista qadam rakhna
Yeh Paani hai!
Kaheen toot na jaye Iska hajam,
Tumhare Wajood ke bojh se
Aur bikhar jaye is ka badan
Hokar
Qatra, qatra,
Qatra, qatra,
Aise jaise
Para, para,
Raiza, raiza!
Kirchee, kirchee,
Sheesha, sheesha!

Haan, yeh paani
Chaahe Ravi, chahe Brahma,
Chahe Jehlum, chahe Sindhu,
Chahe Kabul, chahe Yellow!
Bahe hai aur seenchta hai mera jeevan
Bahe hai aur devta maan
Tujhe aur mujhe zindagi bakhshta
Boond, boond,
Qatra, qatra,
Seenchta, dhaalta,
Jeevan dor baandhtaa
Behta chalta hai!

Ghoont, ghoont bheegte
Tere , mere hont!
Piyaas bujhata hua,
Seenchta hua!
Tere mere dil ki kali
Khilata hua,
Yeh paani!

Is par bojh na daal
Apne wujood ka
Bhaari
Naqabile bardasht!

Translation:

Tread softly,knowingly, lovingly,
On its existence,
Tis Water!
Lest it disappears,
Its body evaporated
As of , in drops one by one!
Like mercurial existence,
Drop by drop,
Or like shards of glass
Smaller and smaller
Till
Nonexistent!

Yes, this water,
Whether Raavi, whether Brahma,
Whether Jehlum, whether Sindhu,
Whether Kabul, whether Yellow
Flows and nurtures
My Life!
Flows and like a god
Bestows life
To You and Me
Drop by drop!

Nurturing, forming,
Our existence!
Tying the knots of our lives
Together, forever!
Creating a bud that flowers joyously
This Water!

Do not burden it
Excessively
With your existence,
Lest it fails,
Unbearably!

Edgar Degas, After the Bath!

Karachi Literature Festival: Literature In Translation.

http://docs.google.com/View?id=dnw3qjw_27gbw5thhk

Meherzaidi, the writer.

The session on literature in Translation provided insight and tips on how to create good literature translations. The Karachi Literature Festival did generate ideas that good English literary works also need to be translated into Urdu as it is the language that is read and spoken by a wide audience in the subcontinent. It will bring greater cultural exchange and understanding between peoples as desired by the British Council (a cultural NGO).Please read my post on the above address.

Karachi Literature Festival..Creative Writing Workshop.

Your document is publicly viewable at: http://docs.google.com/View?id=dnw3qjw_26drq7srhm

Meherzaidi, the writer.

The workshop was conducted by Adrian Hussain and Zulfikar Ghose (poetry section) at the Karachi Literature Festival by Oxford University Press, Pakistan and the British Council , Karachi.I have written the post about it on the above website.

Woh Jigar Chalni Mayein..Those Heart Wrenched Women.

Meherzaidi, the poet.

Woh  bheegey aanchal, woh bheegey pehlu,
Woh aansoo on ki gawahi denge.

Aur woh do aurtein
Betheen hain charpoy lagaye
Eik jhulaste aangan mein!

Aur un ke sar par chamakta suraj
Woh be khabar hain tapish se jiskee

Sulag Raha hai ke jin ke dil mein
Alao apne beiton ki judai ka!

Woh aik aurat ke jis ka beta
Chala gaya hai!
Un sanglakh chateeil paharon ke peechey
Keh shaid jin par rehne waleey
Bhi ho jatey honge, kathen, bewafa!

Woh kho gaya hai yeh maan se keh kar
Ke mein jahad per ja rahaa hoon!

Aur woh doosri aurat ke jis ka beta,
Abhi abhi tau parhta, likhta
Aata tha ghar mein aam khaane!
Bhaagta apni garam bahein
Apni maan ki gardan ke gird
Daalta piyar se
Aur us ka bosa
Apni jabeen per mehsoos karta
Khilkhila ke hansta
Pata naheen kiyun
Chala gaya hai!
Jahad per ya phir bakherne
Angaarey!
Doosron ke gulzaron per!

Cheekhtee chillatee auratein
Sar peet raheen hein
Laashe uthai, cheetre uthai
Yeh kis azdahe ne nigal liya hai
Sukoon un maoon ka!
Yeh kis afreet ne khaliya hai
kaleja un maoon ka!

Yeh mazhab ke naam per kaale jadoogar
Yeh insaaniyat ke naam per kaale jaadogar
Phail gaye hain
Hamien das rahe hain
Hum maoon ko!

Translation.

Those soaked scarves, those soaked borders,
give evidence of the incessant tears.
And those two women sit,
Oblivious to the scorching Sun over them,
On their charpoy!
Their hearts are full of the fire raging ,
Of the sorrow of seperation!

The first woman whose son has gone away,
Behind the rocky, barren mountains,
The dwellers of whose bare valleys,
Maybe become hardened, unloving!
He is lost, telling her that I am going
To jahad!

The second woman, whose son,
Was reading just now, happily he would come home,
To eat sweet mangoes!

Running he would spread his arms around her and feel
Her warm, motherly kisses
On his forehead!
Laughing heartiously!
Oh, I do not know why he left
On jahad or to spread
Fire coals,
On the rosy gardens of others!


The screaming women
Wail and beat their heads
Carrying dead bodies of their loved ones
Blown to smithereens!

O, What devilish python swallows
Their peace!
What Devil eats their hearts!

O, these black devils, using the name of religion
O, these black devils, using the name of humanity
Have spread their devilish tentacles all around us
Biting us, Us mothers!

Naat Rasool- e- Maqbool, Muhammad Sale Ala Alaihe Wa Sallam Ke Naam.

A Few verses of love.

Aik Hai Allah Aur Ya Rasul Allah ,Aik Tu,
Phailee Teri Khushboo Har Soo Koo Bakoo.

Meri Yeh Umar Bas Ek Misle Bulbula,
Kat Gayee Faqat Ba Rahe Sareeh Justajoo.

Jab Pari Yeh Chashme Nam Har Gule Khoshang Per,
Sirf Deedam, Zehe Tu, Khubroo, Ya Rasul Allah!

Translation :

As Allah is one, you are unique, O Muhammad,
The perfume of your message spreads far and wide!


My life but a moment spent swiftly
In finding the truth, in finding you!

Whenever this tearful eyes saw the beautiful flowers,
All I could see the beauty of you,O Prophet.



I wrote this poem in the honour of the prophet of Islam .May peace and blessings be upon him as I had the "Aamad". I translate it so that the youth who do not know Urdu can understand the meaning although Urdu and Persian words are unique.