NEW YEAR

The year will
die tonight
and a new one
will come and take its place
this has been
and this shall be
ever and ever
in to the eternity
and in to the time

but i shall not be
always there
to light candles
and break in to applause
on the stroke of midnight
no one shall be

we are allotted
only few midnights
and few candles
and few fireworks

we are strange
we know all
but we pretend
we know not
every minute
every day
we wither away
the decay is in
our genes
in the programme
and then a moment
we cease to be
going away
as if a whisper
between the leaves
as if
a bubble with the rain

let us party tonight
wear our caps
pointed up
in to the sky
let us pretend
we are immortal
never to die
never to decay
till the lights are on
till the stroke of midnight
let us dance
to the beat of time
to the wink of stars
and to the whiff of leaves

let us dance
to the rustle of dresses
to the paint on lips
to the scents in the
room
to the looks
of amorous night
to the sacredness of souls
let us drink
to the tears of
children
sweat of men and
the blood of women

let us sing
to the sprout of buds
to the golden wheat
to the luster of corn
to the milk
to the honey
and to the nectar

to the bees
and to the birds

till the midnight
the stroke of twelve.

NOSTRDAMUS

i wasn't awake
i wasn't asleep as well
my senses dull
but my mind ran
over the hills
galloping wild
in that meadow
over that ridge
within the valley
along the river

spring came
and went away
autumn came
and went away
and with snow
all around
the king arrived
and rode in his royal carriage
the streams rolled a silver carpet
the springs shot up fireworks
in to the sky


i saw the trees
being reborn from old wombs
in the earth
i saw the wind acting
a mid wife and the breeze kind nurse


i wasn't awake
i wasn't asleep either
through that night
when stars were born
and moons were lit

a sun was torn from a heap of suns
in the night of heaven
the day was placed
and i was given
the golden key
to open the gate
and let the angels out


in to the backyard
entered the leopards and took away
the little pups
and their mom
roamed around
seeking her kids

i was the Nostradamus of your age
i saw it happen
before my time
and so was blinded
by the sight
and put in to the well
for thieves to come
and rescue the boy

whose father had
blinded himself
and smelt his sweat
and heard his blood
on a worn out shroud

they did a mistake
they forgot about me
i wasn't awake
i wasn't asleep either

IT WAS HER

fragrances are always deceptive
traveling over spaces
and marching over time

i know she wasn't around
how could she in that din,
in that traffic,
soot and smoke,
dust and grime

how could she
ever be there
but ask my senses
it was her ,it was her

with a gush of wind
with a whiff of air
with a draught from the sea
her fragrance came
and entered my being

ON WAY TO MUMBAI

he seemed to me
a simple man
obedient to the will of God
with a long beard and
sporting a skull cap
at peace with the world

i saw him numbling
a string of beads
an offering to his God
i saw him kneel in prayer
five times a day

i talked to him of life
he talked to me of death
of all his acquaintances
whom he had met
at the hospital in Mumbai
five years ago and how
only his wife survived
the onslaught of cancer
and how all this was by
the grace of God that
fifth year in a row
her tests were good.

we said good bye
at Bandra terminus
be it then that sixth year
and seventh and on and on
his wife lives and his faith
outlives him and his God
and his mercy outlives all.

Masterpiece

today i must
write a masterpiece
an offering to
divine sarswati
who like a magical swan
swims on the sandy river
of muse and rhyme
but what should i write
and how should i write
for the former nothing is known
and for the later i have no pen

but a masterpiece i must write
even with no sense and
even with no pen
sense is the virtue of the fools
and pens are flaunted by the illiterate

Tonight

tonight i am my own friend
come to see me after a long time
together we shall sit on the terrace
in the moonlit night
drink to the stars up in the sky
recollect the old childhood friends
and re- say all those boyish jokes
and laugh our hearts out

tonight we shall hand in hand
descend the meadow
and ascend the hill
bask in the sun and
lazy around
on the turf of past
collect pebbles and toss them up
run after the rabbits in the woods
make a snare with
a strand of horse's hair
and lay a trap for little birds


tonight me and my bossom friend
shall see each other
in the mirror of time
leafing through the dusty books
reading aloud the poems
and singing the songs
that we never wrote.

River Bank Opera

it is good to
go and sit on the river bank
and throw pebbles in to the water
create a ripple for a fleeting second
and watch it dissolve with the tide

the early morning rays of sun
play a dance on the bank
and enact an opera
on the stage of sand
the trees dotting the edge
watch in silence
and record the moves
on their leaves for posterity

the divine play
plays itself out
every morning
on the river bank
but oblivious to this and all
the river flows
keeping its course
never knowing where to go


but i have a date with time
an engagement foretold
written in a huge book
the book of accounts
the book of actions
and i must go.

Selfish Birds

birds are selfish ,
they descend on to my lawn
when i offer them
crumbs of bread,
no sooner, they pick
the last speck,
they fly off
hovering above
lawns and homes
searching for crumbs.

men are fools
offering their palms
to the beaks of
hungry birds

the scratch on the soul,
the indelible mark,
the timeless burden,
the gnash in the heart

the empty lawn,
the green desert
and the sand of grass,
let them not descend
on to my lawn
i too have spent
the last of crumbs.

Random Thoughts

let us meet somewhere,
it has been ages ,since
we sat on the steps
of the ghat and watched boats,
ferry across loads of men,
women and children
all on their way to somewhere


if we make it today
to the same ghat
let us enquire from the waves
and ripples on the water
as to weather all those men,
women and children
who had crossed the span;
what happened then?
who met whom and who came home?


it has been ages,
generations have come
and generations have gone
a thousand suns have risen and sunk
in to the water in front of me.

a lonely, dull moon hangs there
outside my window,
the chill in the air cuts a sinew
i am frozen to the core,


my friend has sent me a note
on the facebook
in an alien tongue
which i cant read.

people are the same
making families
raising children
building homes
opening accounts in
the nearest banks

my papers lie on the table
the tax return, the unpaid bills
the medical insurance
and my will
yet unwritten .

FAREED PARBATI'S PEN

Fareed too has gone away ,
in search of what ?
he only knows
he didnt see me
before he left
i would ask him
of unknown destination
the journey at hand



he was a tall man
handsome, robust
full of energy
the energy he put
in to his prolific pen


and the pen
did he take it with
i need to know
for if his pen remains
on this side of the mirror
he will return,
with the coming spring

and unravel the mystery
mystery of the rubai,
Sarmad's rubai
and Khayyam's rubai
the fifth hemistich,
the un written muse,
the unthought thought ,
the un said word,
the un sung song

i shall wait for him to come
for he has left his pen behind.

FROM ECHO

میہ کیاہ کرِ یُن گژھن سونتک تہ ھردک
بھار آسن ھرد آءسن دپُس گژھ
چلس چھس بیوٹھمت پننس دلس منز
پنن آسن پرد آسن دپس گژھ
(میر غلام رسول نازکی)
spring or autumn ,day or night nothing matters
be it sun, be it snow send it away
i am at peace in the recesses of my soul
be it friend, be it foe send it away
(mir ghulam rasool nazki)
translation by a.r.n

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd..9

the spider built a lovely web,
from this wall to that wall and
from this corner to that edge
laying silken thread, then
crossing them with more threads,
until at last a fine masterpiece was woven.

then the master craftsman
took in the view and felt good
the time to relax
and sit back had finally come


so he slid himself between the threads
and drifted in to a deep slumber

wind is like death
it keeps no calendar;
a depression there in the far off lands
in some bay or over an ocean
brings a disturbance
and destroys homes

spiders have nothing to fear
they have no business with the ocean,
its rising tides or ebbing waves

but then spiders are funny creatures
building webs
and getting enmeshed between the lines

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd..8

come let us collect the pebbles
on the shore of this river
and build a mansion
with glass windows and latticed screens
hang all the trophies,
we won in the school
on the walls and
spread childhood dreams on the floors
and search for the 81 squares in the
suduko game


nine, all the nine on every side ,column and row
nine, and all the nine in every square up and down,
but then the ill clad sages in the ancient times
in deep woods and upon the hills
found the zero

what would we do without a zero?
our suduku will not do
for it has no place for a zero,
the multiplication tables
have to be memorized afresh

come let us count the pebbles
on the shore of this river
and make an inventory of our dreams.

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd..7

again it is a friday and the muezzin has called
the faithful to prayer,
i must hurry lest i miss the mercy of my lord,
up above the world so high,
like a diamond in the sky,
but no wait a bit
that would be blasphemous but,
the nursery rhymes are for kids
and kids have nothing to do with god,
only adults commit sins and need mercy
i am digressing yet again,
the prayer is at hand ,
all lined up sinful souls in bright clothes
straight up ,then they kneel'
then they bow then they ask
with chocked voices and misty eyes
oh!lord the merciful the beneficent
have pity on our soules and rest us in eternal peace

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd..6

little dew drop on the blade of grass
a little diamond on the file,
a ray from sun piercing through,
dancing colors,the rainbow of life


he was away all day,
his little girl all alone,
waited ,waited for him to return
but the shadows lengthened and the time shrank
like a new garment
in a washing machine
the speed control having gone bust

they fished out yet another body from the river
they buried yet another bundle of bones

stars are funny ,twinkle in the sky
winking at the mortals below

and the sun having retired for the night
conspiracies hatch in the dark
chicken have finally come to roost

the village has lost its count
of the sheep gone away
the wolf has befriended the shepherd
and the eagle is in love with the chick

last year's corn is still there
hands of harvest have been broken
the sickles have been taken away
the trial is about to begin afresh
all the accused have been killed
justice has always taken its course

nightingales and house sparrows and the doves
in droves landed on my lawn
where this year too narcissus is about to come
and await the bombur
black blackish blue
humming an amorous song

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd 5

in a jiffy i went across
all the heavens and the earth
beyond the void in to a void
there with golden bars built a cage
for my heavenly bird
but alas! unfasten the door
the bird flew off
and saw a huge fire upon the ground
a necklace of pearls
an iron cage and a clever crow
in search of life feigning death
saved himself
i was left stranded on the shore of
nothingness void deep and dense
in every sinew and around
the fire !the fire ! people shouted
but no one cared

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd..4

it wasnt easy in the begining,
but by and by and one by one
wounds healed and sores repaired
strange, today no one remembers
the lion who mauled the simple folk,
village was then as of now ,
close to the woods
and lions and bears ,foxes and jackals,
roamed around as human beings,
never touching any for prey

but then something happened
and a lion became the man eater
and wrought havoc on the village

but this is not in the novel ,
lord of the rings
or the rambo for that matter
alif laila the thousand nights
bakers shop and the workshop
the story tellers books
all were burnt in the oven
the flame from orchard wood
doesn't soot the face
and is mild on the eyes

i know you will come
and put the record straight
and write the linkings
in the tale but when?
no one in the village knows!
all young boys have been away,
while women collect the firewood and
little girls with ponytails play with daffodils
on the green,
little boys with rosy cheeks play in mud

king is here ,salute the king
present the thief and
tie him up, let us collect the wild strawberries
for fun

i know as the lines on my palm
that you are here in the hay stack
with the blue eyed and rosy cheek, little girl
but a needle i cant find.

ALL DAY LONG....My poems for Shahid Ali...contd

you are around
i do not know,
but for sure,
someone has been,
opening the window
and letting the sun in

the moss on the carpet
shrunk and shriveled ,
has dried up
a feather freshly shed,
by a pigeon lies here
for sure someone
has been in.

the autumn leaves
whisper again
but never take your name
the lazy brook passing by
looks like a serpent
awaiting his prey

yet i know you are around
but where ? i do not know