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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

DEENI BYAPAAR


This is in reference to the religious extremists who believe in controlling the people through the fear psychosis:
…
Ye jo deen ke thekedaar hain
Mazhab inka byapaar hai
Munafe bakhsh ye kaarobaar hai
Mukalama inse bekaar hai
Hukoomat bhi laachaar hai
Shayad Khuda bhi inse bezaar hai
.
Jo fatwe jaari karte hain
Aur khauf sa tari rakhte hain
Masoom qaum ke seene mein
Kya rakha aise jeene mein
Hum zinda ho ke bhi marte hain
Bas azab azab se darte hain
Ye jeena maut se badtar hai
Is zillat se to maut hi behtar hai.

Category:

MY POETRY, Pakistan, Poetry, Politics, RELIGION

FROM WHAT I SEE TODAY I FEAR FOR TOMORROW


This is in light of the unfortunate reaction of rejoicing of Salman Taseer’s brutal assasination that I saw on FB walls of ‘virtual’ friends and in the sitting rooms of few ‘real’ friends:
As Today I see:
.
Hatred feels as love goes numb
Lies speak as truth goes dumb
Desperation sees as hopes go blind
Apathy emerges as empathy goes behind
.
Extravagance flourishes as simplicity stunts
Modesty is killed as vulgarity hunts
Greed gets acceptable as charity resists
Prosperity evaporates as poverty exists.
.
Awareness drowns as ignorance sails
Reasoning whithers as gun prevails
Extremism wins as tolerance gets defeated
Peace goes extinct as suicide bombs get repeated
.
So for Tomorrow I fear:
.
Devils shall take over as humans vanish
Cruelty will emerge as kindness they’ll banish
Angels will stay quiet as satan will yell
Heavens will weep as Earth turns a Hell.
.
A cult will emerge as ‘real faith ’ will die
Intellectual wings will be clipped as idiots will fly
Darkness they’ll love as awakening they’ll hate
Sanity will mourn as madness will be our fate.
.
Autocracy will stand as democracy shall derail
Barbarians will succeed as humanity will fail
Tolerance they’ll hate and bigotry they’ll cherish
Ruins shall remain as civilization will perish.
.
.

Category:

MY POETRY, Pakistan, Poetry, Politics, Social Issues

I CLEARLY REMEMBER THAT LANKY YOUNG LAD…


Saw a familiar name on FB
A train of beautiful memories followed
Instantly taking me back
Three decades and a half
Place : Our house in Kasmir Univ Campus
Year: Some time in mid seventies
Me: Barely nine or ten
Clad in a red polka dot frock.
…
I cleary remember
A lanky handsome lad
Walks in with my dad
Thin, tall ,black framed glasses
Barely in his mid twenties
Who is he? I wonder
Dad calls my mon to tell
“He is a distant kin,
A dear friend’s son”
Him: appointed lecturer in Kasmir
Department of English
“He will live in our guestroom”
My dad announces
He settles down.
…
I clearly remember
A kind of a shy, reserved
Man of few words to begin with
As the days pass by,
The ice really breaks
He becomes the best pal
Of my twin brothers
Barely seven or eight
They would always be found
Sitting and listening to stories
In his room and laughing
Enjoying the mimicry he did
Of various clowns and characters
…
I clearly remember
A lanky young man
So sober and loving
To my mom
He called her ‘chachijan’
Shared his pain and secrets with her
Stood by her in the kitchen
Loved the ‘aaloo gosht’ she made.
…
I clearly remember
That tall young man
So quiet and thoughtful
So respectful to my dad
Talked with him for hours
In from of the bukhari
About the current politics,
Of Kasmir university gossip,
Of English literature
Of Urdu poetry
The poetry which we kids
Were told he had learnt
By heart as a little kid.
…
I clearly remember
That lanky young lad
Know not who he was
To the outside world
What was his job
What was his passion
All I knew that he was
Our Safder Bhai
Who told us wonderful stories
In that cosy outhouse
In grey winter evenings
In a beautiful place
We call Kashmir
Yes he was our Safder bhai
Who the rest know as
Late Safder Hashmi.
….
….
….
By Ilmana Fasih
7 Jan 2011

Category:

India, MY POETRY, Personal, Poetry

WE THE BIGOTS


Yes, we believers are the best
Yes, infidels we call the rest.
Yes, in Heaven we shall dwell
Yes, the rest shall burn in Hell.
Yes, we are righteous, pious and great
Yes, for the rest our hatred is their fate.
Yes, to Islam we have brought ample shame
Since BIGOTS we have coined our new name.
Ilmana Fasih
5 January 2010.

Category:

MY POETRY, Poetry, Politics

TODAY I MOURN…


Remembering the brutal killing of Salman Taseer who may not have been one of my favourites but who had a right to live no matter what his opinions and beliefs:

Today…
I mourn not the killing of a man
So colourful and extravagant.
I mourn not the slaying of a Governor
So arrogant and controversial.

But..
I mourn the silencing of a voice
So straight and blunt.
I mourn the strangulating of a brain
So brilliant and intellectual.
I mourn the murder of a knight
So valiant and confronting.
I mourn the passing of a champion
So obstinate and audacious.
I mourn the death of a citizen
So bold and patriotic.

More than that…
I mourn the birth of a cult
So vulgar and catchy.
I mourn the birth of a logic
So illogical and frustrating.
I mourn the birth of an ideology
So intolerant and dangerous.
I mourn the birth of a philosophy
So loathsome and self destructive.

But most of all…
I mourn the arrival of a’ faith’
So bigoted and hateful.
I mourn the demise of ISLAM
So peaceful and tolerant.

And last of all…
I mourn the disappearance of MY FREEDOM
So precious and priceless.

Ilmana Fasih
5 January 2010

Category:

MY POETRY, Pakistan, Poetry, Politics

WOH JO LARKI…..


For no rhyme nor reason I fell for this innocent Hindi poem…..

By Armaan Khan

Kuch adaen uski shehri thi
Kuch adaen uski ganwari thi,
Badi natkhat thi,chanchal thi,
Who kamsin thi,kanwari thi,
Woh jo mujh se bichar gaee
Woh alharh larki bahut pyari thi…….

Misri si mithi thi who,
Mirchi si teekhi bhi thi,
Kabhi kachi amiya si thi,
Kabhi imli si chatkhari thi,
woh jo mujh se bichar gaee,
Woh alharh larki bahut pyari thi…….

Rang sanwal,nain nakhsh teekhe the,
Thodi pe uske til bhi tha,
Chand se kuch khas doston mein,
Uska naam shamil bhi tha,
Aur meri Maa bhi us par waari thi,
woh jo mujh se bichar gaee,
Woh alharh larki bahut pyari thi…….

Aaj achanak kyon aise,
Yaad ki lakriyaan sulagne lagin,
Aur wajood mein dhuan bhara to,
Rooh bhi apni sulagne lagi,
Tum dekhte to samajhte,
Bina uske kaisi haalat hamari thi,
woh jo mujh se bichar gaee,
Woh alharh larki bahut pyari thi…….

Category:

Poetry, Women

TO 2010 I PART WITH A HEAVY HEART…


As the aroma of the gun powder still smells
As the echoes of the suicide bombs still reverberate
As the blood stains of target killings still stay red
As the dismembered bodies from the blasts still ooze blood.
.
As the pain from the daylight robberies still stays strong
As the frustrations from the cricket scandals still hurt
As the drenching sweat from the loadsheddings still stinks
As the earth from the summer floods in Pakistan still lays soaked
As the ashes from the Iceland volcano still stay suspended.
.
As the poor get poorer and the rich get richer
As men hunt for jobs but women stay back in fear
As the shops long for business and the factories stay closed
As the kids perish before age and the youth stay unclear.
.
With this baggage of rough memories
From you 2010 I part, with a heavy heart.
And I welcome you 2011, the NEW YEAR
With less of a hope and more of a fear
As to what will you unfold in the future near.
.
But I stand in prayers with the folded hands
That this test of hardships, my planet stands.
For the entire humanity, North South East or West
May the coming months, weeks just unveil the BEST.
.
HAVE A HAPPY AND SUSTAINABLE NEW YEAR
http://www.zmqsoft.com/nyc.html
Ilmana Fasih
31 Dec 2010

Category:

MY POETRY, Poetry

WHAT IF…


What if…
I lived
In a village remote
That no maps showed
And  no  roads led to
Where a house meant
Four walls, thatched roof
Where the shelves
Adorned a few utensils
Not books, papers or pencils.

What if…
I was raised
By hapless parents
In  fields they worked
As bonded labourers
In sweltering summers
Or foggy winters
I merrily went with
Mom to fetch water
From the far off well.
Dad and brothers
Collected the firewood
From the nearby jungle.

What if…
I grew up
As a street child
Footpath as my home
With a helpless  face,
Eyes knew no light
And discrepit attire
For a penny I asked
At street corners
Spreading out hand
Shoving a ‘help me’ card
Unto the passers by.

What if…
I was born
To a dad who
Cribbed to hear
‘It is a girl’
Cared for me less
Loved my brothers more
Stopped me from school
And didn’t let me go out to play
Where I continually heard
“… because you are a girl.”

What if…
I was married
To an  chauvinist ‘man’
Who’s ego topped the list
His opinions dominated
And left me suffocated
Where all that was ’right ‘
Was what his eyes would see
And his self focussed sight
Would not let me be ME.

Why was I born, brought up
And still live the way I do?
Why do I have, in my life
Such awesome people too?
Why did  the ‘mother luck’
Bestow these blessings, all through?

I certainly, know not why.
As tears from my eyes roll by.
But all that I can say is:
“I cannot be GRATEFUL ENOUGH’


……………
IlmanaFasih
3 January 2009

Category:

MY POETRY, Poetry

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