I am an Amateur and ramble I will. (Continuation: For, you were Iqbal and Rumi's silent pride.)

Is it just me?

Or do your hearts still weep?

 Has the day passed?

Or does it signal perils unsurpassed?

Stand up and look down to your feet!

The earth is still there, Pakistan remains here.

How long will it be?

               Till you and Earth are one?

Don’t grow weary yet, my friends

                We need more words, at least I for one.

I need more chaos, he says.

Let all be ordinary, she says.

The silent guide smiles by my side.

While I pen this down,

                  With a vision in my eye.

Enough rambling. Get to the point!

Wasting the readers’ and your time!

Time is of the essence…

Pluck not the Rose, while still it grows…

I am an Amateur and ramble  I will.

Have patience my silent guide.

You are from me, why would you then deem me mad?

                 Look at me and hear me, because I am here… just for that! (Rumi)

Take your time. Take your time; signals the silent guide.

I’ve been here since the birth of time.

You too junaid, like many others, will pass unheard of

          Into a world your heart yearns for.

For, you were Iqbal and Rumi’s silent pride.

22.9.2012

You pierce the ageing heart of mine

Physically damaging it, is an on-going act of thine;

Whenever you raise your hand on your Muslim brother,

You shatter my world of Islamic perfection.

I write on paper, not machine

Like my predecessors, I hope to achieve,

A moment from your precious life

That which you willingly waste.

I see you, the smiling ones

The humored soul that takes me a joke.

Laugh while you may, at my lament!

Or read  on! And laugh again, you are only dust and smoke.

I have turned from side to side

Looking for answers, searching my mind.

I find no Iqbal penning his thoughts

Nor Rumi spinning in love.

Wait! Blur not my eye. You assembling tear.

I am to write words, and write them again.

While Iqbal may rest in his grave

Junaid yet burns within, and burns again.

What must I do? O silent guide?

Do poems move them or prose?

Is it the flute Rumi yearned for?

Or the words of a Qari reciting the Quran?

You must answer, Answer me now!

I seek to inspire not one, nor a thousand

Millions will answer my call, if I pen it right.

If I be the guide. If I be the guide!

But how can the unguided be the guide?

No more mysteries, no more talks in the dreams

I seek not omens, nor mysteries from the Quran!

I will not read, I will not see.

                                  Come whisper it in my ear

                                  Or silently take me away.

                                  The heart weakens day by day.

Why do you people scoff at me? For this?

Why do you people support me? For this?

You disgust me my reader.

For, what you seek, is but with the silent guide.

So come search with me!

Come let’s sit together

Come! Come! We will not talk!

But think and only think together.

And what do you know about the power of thought?

It moves the mountains and fills the sky!

It rises to the Lord Himself

Where His angels cry.

So come! And come again!

                Let us make them weep to oblivion.

Sit among us, my silent guide

                For, you were Iqbal and Rumi’s silent pride. 

Dying to Photograph

Every photographer; amateur, casual or even a professional, comes across this moment at least once in his/her life when you look at a scene, find it exquisite and want to capture it.

But you can’t.

And it could be any reason.

No camera.

No battery.

Driving.

Or it could be that you’re standing at the railway tracks by the airport road and you’ve set up alarms at a military base, just because you wanted to capture the tracks and the clouds in one frame.

KAUN HO TUM?

junaid ali

KIA KARRAY HO?

Tasweer khainch raha hun

CHALO MERAY SATH!

Nahi.

TARUF KARA

……

Theek hai sir aap jaiye,

Yahan photography mana hai.

                          Assalamu Alaikum.

9.11.2012

I’m the one to your left.

Lurking there in the shadows,

Waiting for a chance to strike.

I’m the condescending jerk you want to abuse,

Wearing a sweet smile, I can’t be refused.

Look back, I hide behind your eyes.

Raise your arms to strike,

Or capture me and tame me,

I’ll be the weapon you silently depend upon.

24.8.2012

He just sat there.

Blabbing.

His words did not inspire.

No pulse.

For him, drinking was a sin greater than causing discomfort to another human.

Hey Qari! Stop yelling on the mike! It’s disgraceful for our predecessors and God will not hear you better if you yell louder.

And verily HE alone is aware of what is in the hearts of men, not me.  

23.8.2012

I had my eyes closed and discerned baboons of the higher order jumping and laughing around me. They laughed at each other, at me, at themselves and at those who were not present.

And it troubled me.

I opened my eyes to find men wrapped in the skin of angels, seated about me.

I prayed and looked for a mirror.

The devil smiled back at me.   

Lets Gobble the Whole World

Have you seen the world?

I’m serious.

Have you seen the colors?

The trees? Clouds? Sun? Moon? Mountains? Stars? Birds?

Not all rays of light entering your eyes are reflected back. Some of them do, most of them are absorbed by the eye.

Do you realize you have not only been feasting on this world with your mouth and nose but also with your eyes?

Eating through your eyes the rays of light reflecting back from objects that either have a good or a bad taste for the eye? Leaving the brain to digest all of them.