Enlightenment

i closed my eyes
looked inwards
it was dark
un blemished darkness
no spot
no crevice
black
un interrupted

sea of darkness
void
deep
no contours
no edges
no angles
only
depth
deep
deep
only
extent
void and wide
****
i opened my eyes
light
rays upon rays
kissing the window panes
touching the carpet
and spreading around
enclosing my frame
my hallowed being
like a devta
on the calendar
emitting light
but not a ray
entering me
my darkness
virgin chaste pure
a fairy maiden
awaiting union
****
(ayaz rasool nazki)

When the Rain comes

fragrances  dissolve in air
 spread around in the garden
 go out in to the street
 they can not change
 the politics of the place
bees set out with the first light
in search of flowers in the meadow
collecting nectar in their tiny frames
and the queen sits all day
doing nothing

that is how it is,
again i digress
my thoughts wander away
in search of a meadow
full with flowers
i am no bee
i am no bird
i am no tree
do not nest on my branch
do not sit under my wing
when the rain comes
(ayaz rasool nazki, pic @arn)

My Poems

my poems are not mine
they come to me from the void
i am a greedy old man

Words won't listen

why do you descend upon me
in this dark and lonely night
when not a soul stirs
when not a leaf moves
when not a bird chirps
when not a bee hums
this oppressive silence
knots within my chest
and yet you choose to torment me
you with your tiny wings
flutter around my open eyes
you with your pointed beaks
scratch my scalp
you with your rounded limbs
nudge me on
words! tonight i cant write
why don't you ,once in a while
leave me alone.
but i know
words won't listen

(ayaz rasool nazki)

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.

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.

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.

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

the murderer was sheathed
within the sword.
and he rode a purebred steed,
galloping in to the endless desert
of yesterday

pigeons had hardened their wings,
the long marathon flight
above the endless ocean
had at last commenced

and their through the latticed windows
of the dargah
hundred pairs of eyes watched
the congregation getting restive
but nothing happened
no one moved
not a word was ever said.

ALL DAY LONG

all day long i thought of you,
in the wilderness of my mind,
i created many an oases
and imagined trees, with branches of ivory
and in them, nests woven in golden thread
birds of silver rested there
laying eggs of emerald green

all day long i thought of you
in the vast desert of my soul
gushing springs roaming around
planting handfulls of life in to the sand

all day long i thought of you ,
on the lofty mountain of time,
step by step,rock by rock
ascending the heights
(ayaz rasool nazki)