Open up your mind and your potential reaches infinity…


This Hindi poem touched me all over- my soul, heart and mind.

Roop se keh do dekhe doosra ghar
Main ghareebon ki zindagani hoon, mujhey fursat nahin hai.

Bachpan mein mushkilon ki gode me palti rahi main
Dhuaein ki chadar lapete, har ghadi jalti rahi main
Jyoti ki dulhan bithaye zindagi ki palki mein
Saans ki pagdandiyon pe raat-din chalti rahi main
Woh khareedein swapn jinki aankh pe sona charha ho
Main abhavon ki kahani hoon, mujhey furst nahin hai.

Manti hoon main, ke main bhi aadmi ka man liye hoon
Deh ki deewar per tasweer sa yauwan liye hoon
Bhook ki jwala bujhaoon ya rachaoon ras leela
Aadmi hoon, devtaaon se kathin jeevan liye hoon
Titliyon, poora chaman hai, pyaar ka wyapaar kar lo
Main samarpan ki deewani hoon, mujhey fursat nahin hai.

Jee rahi hoon kyo ki main nirmaan ki pehli karee hoon
Aadmi ki pragati ban kar, har musibat mein laree hoon
Main samay ke prashth per shram ki kahani likh rahi hoon
Neend ki madira na chirko, main pareeksha ki ghari hoon
Ho jinhein awkaash, khelen roop rangon ke khilone
Main paseeney ki rawaani hoon, mujhey fursat nahin hai.

Zindagi aakhir kahan tak sabr ki moorat garhegi
Ghutan jitni hi adhik ho, aanch utni hi barhegi
Aandhiyon ko bhi bulana dard waale jaante hain
Roorhiyon ki raakh kab tak, aanch ke ser pe charhegi
Shauq hai jinko jiyein parchhaiyyon ki ote ley kar
Main ujaale ki nishani hoon, mujhey fursat nahin hain.

~Deviprasad Shukla ‘Rahi’.

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Nida Fazili is a renowned Indian Urdu poet. The following lines were written by him after a visit to Pakistan:

Insaan mein haiwaan yahan bhi hain wahan bhi
Allah nigehbaan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi

Khoonkhar darindon ke faqat naam alag hain
Shehron mein bayabaan yahan bhi hain wahan bhi

Rehman ki qudrat ho ya Bhagwan ki moorat
Her khel ka maidan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi

Hindu bhi mazey mein hain Muslmaan bhi mazey mein
Insaan pareshan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi

Uthta hai dil-o-jaan se dhuaan donon taraf hi
Ye Mir ke deewan yahan bhi hain wahan bhi.
~Nida Fazili

(Last couplet: He refers to the famous couplet by Mir :
Dekho to dil se ya jaan se uthta hai
Ye dhuaan sa kahan se uthta hai. )


From within the graves
For peace they crave
As forgotten is
The message they gave
The unity they preached
Could never be reached
Ah restless they lie
With pain they sigh
So loud they cry
Their eyes bleed
And hearts weep
When senses get  numb
And sensibilities go dumb
As  bodies are shred
And limbs allover fly
Glass bangles break
Amidst screams and cries
When breadwinners die
As blood splatters
Their dreams shatter
Their shrines haunt
It’s peace they want.
Just peace they want.

(Context: On repeated suicide bombs on Sufi shrines).

I am that Hand…


I am the hand of a patriot that lifts for allegiance to its beloved homelands.
I am the hand of a faithful that spreads for prayer for a victory for its team.
I am the hand of Sachin that will bat with a class to complete its 100th century.
I am the hand of Dhoni that will lose no chance of dismissal behind the wicket
I am the hand of Zaheer whose reverse swing shall get wickets crashing down.
I am the hand of Yuvii whose flawless efficiency in the field spares no runouts.
I am the hand of the billion fans who shall cheer their team to a great victory
I am the hand of the 16 souls who shall so deservingly lift the World Cup 2011.
I am the hand that will wipe tears of joy for being granted the moment of success.
I am the hand that shall rise to thank for being blessed with great compatriots.
Also:
I am the hand that will cheer the opponent team when they’ll play good game.
I am the hand that goes ahead to shake other hand no matter who it belongs.
I am the hand that joins with other hands to make a human chain for peace.
I am the hand that holds the hands which strive to make this world a better place.


It was indeed extremely touching to see the reaction of every one on my blog ‘ How can a Mom and a Friend Rejoice…’.

Beena Sarwar tweeted the link and posted it in a couple of fora and some friends cross posted it on their Home page. So also, the beautiful FB page with an even more beautiful spirit ‘Together We can Win’ where I shared it, responded  in return with appreciation for the post. Touching comments mostly by youngsters, who are either my friends or my kids’ friends made me more emotional than anything I have ever experienced. For me it was a victory for Peace between my two homelands–INDIA and  PAKISTAN.

It is not just PM Manmohan Singh or PM Gilani, who think they are the custodians of peace between their two countries.

With such beautiful hearted people and loving kids that I have come across in my personal life, one can imagine how many such loving hearts must be throbbing in the chests of millions of people on both sides of the border, who aspire for peace and prosperity for themselves as well as for their neighbours.

All these millions of hearts in the subcontinent are in fact the real ambassadors of peace in their own right. Together they could be a Peace force large enough to defeat any hate loving agencies, extremists or other vested interests who leave no stone unturned to sow hatred.

As a mother I find myself a tiny speck in front of the great sacrifices hundreds of mothers have made in this subcontinent for peace.

It is hard to forget a great mother Vidyawati who sacrificed her young son with dignity and courage. Her son, no other than Shaheed Bhagat Singh, kissed the gallows on December 19, 1927 along with two other brave sons, of equally brave mothers. Their only fault was that they loved their people and aspired for them better lives.

This great mother lived with the pleasant memories of her son until 1975 (for 48 years after his martyrdom) and never ever did she regret for having lost this brave son. She affectionately shared the intimate accounts of  her son Bhagat Singh, his playful ways and firm ideals.

In a book she reminiscences: “Bhagat used to say he would bring home a charming bride; he brought one in the form of freedom. He would also tell me not to come to receive his body. He loved me, contrary to the belief that his life of total dedication to the revolution had no space for love. He also loved his friends.”

With such sons as Shaheed  Bhagat Singh, his companions, their mothers and thousands of others who sacrificed together for the freedom of this subcontinent, it  now stands in three pieces as India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. History cannot be changed and I respect, like everyone else, these boundaries but only if we could avoid further bloodshed and waste of energies in hatred and, instead, harness it in the form of LOVE, PEACE AND PROSPERITY for the entire region. Let the borders be just on the land, not in our hearts.

It does not need a rocket science but a just a flicker of change in one’s thinking to turn this hatred into love. It does not need too many beaurocratic visits or trade pacts or anti war treaties if the one and a half billion people of this subcontinent decide to make AMAN KI ASHA ( hope of peace) into a REAL PEACE.

True both the nations are going through difficulties and surging extremism  in the form of religious extremists on either side. But if we look around with our eyes open, there are problems everywhere. The problems should not stand in the way for peace and prosperity in the region.

We do not need to go far, just turn our necks to the east to see with what dignity, perseverance and sanity this great first world nation JAPAN is bearing its hard times.

Our problems are minuscule in front of Japan and if we show sanity, patience and shun hatred, we could achieve peace in our region too.

As a mom again I feel so tiny for my trivial sacrifice, if there is any at all, in front of these mothers of the Fukushima-50.

One of these mothers of a Fukushima worker spoke today, tearfully saying, “My son and his colleagues have discussed it at length and they have committed themselves to die if necessary to save the nation. He told me they have accepted they will all probably die from radiation sickness in the short term or cancer in the long-term.”

And our two Nuclear capable nations at logger heads with each other for one excuse or the other, have more than 1.4 billion population together. The mere thought shivers me to bones, if God forbid, any nuclear accident took place here, there wouldn’t be merely 50 sufferers like Fukushima, but over 50 million or even far more.

I must admit that this thought passed my mind last night and gave me a sleepless, terrified night and pushed me to write this piece early in the morning.
Hence it is not just a few hundreds like me, who have divided families across the border, who stand at risk for any calamity if the relations between India Pakistan stayed ‘not friendly’.

There are 1.4 billion people on both the sides who are sitting write beneath the nose of nuclear weapons in the region. True the possibility of it being used is negligible, but then why such hefty expenditure in developing, maintaining and improving their ‘killing’ capabilities through big meaningless words like ‘NUCLEAR DETERRENCE’.

And  then the tensions give excuse to the vested interests( outside the region) to keep asking both sides to keep buying arms for their ‘safety’, amidst poverty, hunger, ignorance, illiteracy for millions on both sides. What if this money was used for development and not arms build up ?

Each one of us, among these  1.4 billion shall be the beneficiaries if two sides decided to digress from expenditure on arms and war preparedness, and invested in peace and prosperity in the region. Only ‘peoples  power’ can coerce the ‘top leadership’  for this. Let us ask for our ‘safety’ not through arms and ammunition but through education, health, alleviation of poverty, employment through economic activity . This is only possible if both sides are at PEACE with each other. Is this all that a far fetched dream?

Maybe, the idea looks a dream, but then dreams do come true too.

Are the bosses in the capitals Nut Alley( New Delhi) and Is Lame Abad ( Islamabad) listening too ?

( Post note: As if the night terror was not enough, the news of UN workers  killed in cold blood in Afghanistan got me nauseated. The need to seek peace and shun hatred in the region becoming even more urgent, lest we end up as savages).



Abr me barad o man me shavam az yar juda
Chun kunam dil ba chunin roz ze dildar juda
No, leave me not, my beloved, enjoy this rainy day
And tear you not my love from my loving heart away

Abr o baran o man o yar sitada ba wida
Man juda girya kunan, abr juda, yar juda
Oh how can I this rainy night without my beloved sleep
When everyone is weeping here, weep I and clouds weep

Sabza nou khaiz o hava khurram o bustan sarsubz
Bulbul e rooesiyah manda ze gulzar juda
With the air so fresh and clear, and the garden lush and green
Oh, why is our nightingale not part of the lovely scene?

Dida az behr e to khunbar shud, aye mardum e chashm
Mardumi kun, mashow az dida e khunbar juda
For you, my one and only one, I shed the tears of blood
So don’t be out of my sight, for it’ll become a flood

Husn e to daer napayad chun ze Khusro rafti
Gul basay daer namanad chun shud az khar juda
Away not go from your KHUSRO lest you begin to whittle
Like a flower you will wither when cut you’re from the thistle

Part of the poem not sung here:

Nemat e dida nakhaham keh bamanad pus azin
Manda chu dida azan nemat e didar juda
O light you’re of my eyes, O you’re my gift of sight
And when you’re out of my sight, my day looks like the night

Dida sad rakhna shud az behr e to, khakay ze rahat
Zood bargir o bakun rakhna e divar juda
I love to peek, and ogle you from every chink and crack
My eyes will surely crack up, dear, if they not keep the track

Learning Farsi( Persian), word by word:

1a. abr=cloud, mîbârad=raining, va=u, man=I, mîshavam=become, az=from, yâr=friend, judâ=separated

1b. chun=how, konam=I make dil=heart bachanin=such a rôz=day z=from dildar=in heart judâ=separate ?

2a. abr=cloud u=and bârân=rain u=and man=I va=and yâr=friend sitâdah=stood ba=for vidâ’a=farewell.

2b. man=I judâ=separate girya=tear konân=is making(weeping) abr=cloud judâ=separate tû=you judâ=separate.

3a. sabzah=verdure naw=new khêz=risen u=and havâ=love/passion khurram=joyful u=and bustân=garden sar=head sabz=verdant

3b. bulbul=nightingale rôy=face siyâh=overcast mândah=remained z=from gûzar=place judâ=separated

4a. az=from murâdar=longing tah=root har=every mûy=hair z=from zulfat=tresses bandî=slave

4b. chah=what how konî=do you band=limg z=from bandam=limb hamah=whole yakbâr=all at once judâ=separated ?

5a. dîdh=seen az=from bahar=for every tû=you khûnâbar=raining blood tears shod=become ay=O mardam chashm=pupil of the eye.

5b. mardumî=Courtesy kon=do mushav=be not az=from dîdah=eye/vision khûnâbar=raining blood tears judâ=separate.

6a. ni’mat=Ease dîdah=vision nakhûham=pride ki=that bamând=stayed pasafter then azîn=such as this from this.

6b. mandah=remained chun=when if dîdah=eye/vision izan=from him ni’mat=favour dîdâr=rendezvous judâ=separated.

7a. dîdah=vision sad=hundred rakhna=window shod=became az bahr=for sake of tû=you khâkî=made of dust.

z=from rahat=escaped zûd=haste bargîr=accept u=and bekon=make rakhna=breach dîdâr=vision judâ=separated

8a. maid=remain ham=also so jân=life soul ma rav=go not az=from man=me vagarat=although bâvar=to believe nîst=is not.

bêsh=more azan=from that khwâhahiî=nilly willy bustân=garden u=and nigahdâr=guardian judâ=separated ?

9a. husn=beauty tû=you dêr=late long napîd=not stand firm chû=when if z=from khusraw=Khusrau rufti=you go.

gul=flower basî=many a dêr=long namand=not remain chû=when if shod=become az=from khâr=thistle judâ=separated.

(About the singer: Zila Hussain Khan:Zila Khan  is an Indian sufi singer  , daughter of pre-eminent sitar maestro Ustad Vilayat Khan and Begum Monisha. She was named by her father after Amir Khusrow‘s raag, Zila Kaafi ).



The Right to Dream: Poem written in Spanish by Eduardo Galeano. Uruguayan writer on political and economic issues and the author of Upside Down.

In 1948 and again in 1976, the United Nations proclaimed long lists of human rights, but the immense majority of humanity enjoys only the rights to see, hear and remain silent. Suppose we start by exercising the never-proclaimed right to dream? Suppose we rave a bit? Let’s set our sights beyond the abominations of today to divine another possible world:

[image, unknown] the air shall be cleansed of all poisons except those born of human fears and human passions;

in the streets, cars shall be run over by dogs;

people shall not be driven by cars, or programmed by computers, or bought by supermarkets, or watched by televisions;

the TV set shall no longer be the most important member of the family and shall be treated like an iron or a washing machine;

people shall work for a living instead of living for work;

written into law shall be the crime of stupidity, committed by those who live to have or to win, instead of living just to live like the bird that sings without knowing it and the child who plays unaware that he or she is playing;

in no country shall young men who refuse to go to war go to jail, rather only those who want to make war;

[image, unknown] economists shall not measure living standards by consumption levels or the quality of life by the quantity of things;

cooks shall not believe that lobsters love to be boiled alive;

historians shall not believe that countries love to be invaded;

politicians shall not believe that the poor love to eat promises;

earnestness shall no longer be a virtue, and no-one shall be taken seriously who can’t make fun of himself;

death and money shall lose their magical powers, and neither demise nor fortune shall make a virtuous gentleman of a rat;

no-one shall be considered a hero or a fool for doing what he believes is right instead of what serves him best;

the world shall wage war not on the poor but rather on poverty, and the arms industry shall have no alternative but to declare bankruptcy;

[image, unknown]

food shall not be a commodity nor shall communications be a business, because food and communication are human rights;

no-one shall die of hunger, because no-one shall die of overeating;

street children shall not be treated like garbage, because there shall be no street children;

[image, unknown] rich kids shall not be treated like gold, because there shall be no rich kids;

education shall not be the privilege of those who can pay;

the police shall not be the curse of those who cannot pay;

justice and liberty, Siamese twins condemned to live apart, shall meet again and be reunited, back to back;

a woman, a black woman, shall be president of Brazil, and another black woman shall be president of the United States; an Indian woman shall govern Guatemala and another Peru;

in Argentina, the crazy women of the Plaza de Mayo shall be held up as examples of mental health because they refused to forget in a time of obligatory amnesia;

the Church, holy mother, shall correct the typos on the tablet of Moses and the Sixth Commandment shall dictate the celebration of the body;

[image, unknown] the Church shall also proclaim another commandment, the one God forgot: You shall love nature, to which you belong;

clothed with forests shall be the deserts of the world and of the soul;

the despairing shall be paired and the lost shall be found, for they are the ones who despaired and lost their way from so much lonely seeking;

we shall be compatriots and contemporaries for all who have a yearning for justice and beauty, no matter where they were born or where they lived, because the borders of geography and time shall cease to exist;

perfection shall remain the boring privilege of the gods, while in our bungling, messy world every night shall be lived as if it were the last and every day as if it were the first.

 First published: http://www.newint.org/features/2002/01/05/rave/

 


Main nara-e-mastana, main shouqi- e- rindana
Main tashna kahan jaaon, pee kar bhi kahan jana

Slogan of Inebriation am I, drunkard mercurialness am I
drink may I , may I not hardly does it make a difference

Main souz-e-mohabbat hoon, main aik qayamat hoon
Main ashk-e-nadaamat hoon, main gouhar-e-yakdana

A burning heat of love am I, the eventual
Tear of ignominy , a pearl unfound am I

Main tahir-e-lahooti, main johar-e-malkooti
Nasoot ne kab mujh ko is haal mein pehchana

Pern of heaven, the gem of empires and I
Hath when humanity known me so?

Main sham-e- farozan hoon, main aatish-e-larza hoon
Main sozish-e-hijraan hoon, main manzil-e-parwana

Illuminating light of the dusk, a raging flame am I
Mordancy of parting, Destination of Pyralid am I

Kis yaad ka sehera hoon, kis chashm ka darya hoon
Khud toor ka jalwa hoon, hai shakl qalbhana

A desert of thoughts, a river of which fall?
the biggest reality of the universe yet unrevealed

Main husn-e-mujassim hoon, main gesu-e-barham hoon
Main phool hoon shabnam hoon, main jalwa-e-janana

A  frozen beauty am I, a ringlet in anger
A flower, the dew am I, beauty of the beloved

Main wasif-e-bismil hoon, main ronaq-e-mehfil hoon
Ik toota howa dil hoon, main shehar mein veerana

Wasif, slayed am I, heart of the crowd

A broken heart am I, a lonely in the city.

 

Urdu ghazal by: Wasif Ali Wasif
English translation: By Syed Faizan Abbas Jaffrey & his friend Usama Kabbir ( greatly indebted to him for complying to my undue demand of a translation 🙂 ).


It was probably the millionth time someone today asked me a question, my ears have gone wounded hearing ,
“Do you have fights at home when the India-Pakistan match is played?”

And I give back the same answer a millionth time, with the same words and the  same expression since the past two decades,

“I don’t side with any team. Both are mine. No more no less. “

Yes, my husband and kids are very passionate Pakistanis. They don’t spare a minute to support Pakistan or mock at India when they folly in the play. And they do it right under my nose. So what?

In fact, I am proud of their patriotism. They love passionately to where they belong. No regrets for I love passionately to where I belong.

And yes, unlike them, I belong to both the lands. Hence I love both India and Pakistan as much. No more, no less.

An acquaintance even had an audacity to question once on my mothering abilities for not having brought up kids favouring India or at least being neutral. She got a good bashing from a passionate mom in me, when I brought home the fact that I wanted my kids to be exactly the way they are—patriotic and passionate for their homeland. Yes they do love my birthplace too, but they know they don’t belong there. These are such intricate feelings one learns to appreciate when one lives it.

Talking of the match between India Pakistan played at Mohali today, my kids had literally counted down hours .

My girl had gone an extra mile to paint  a T shirt with a Pakistani Flag for herself, at the cost of her study time for the Term Exams right next week. And like a true sister she ran  from pillar to post, in whole of the city,  to find a Pakistani team  T shirt for her brother, buying it at double the normal price just a day before the match. They stayed up all night in the angst of not missing the first few moments of the toss even at 5 am in the morning.

I am so proud of their spirits. They did not even miss their schools and went wearing their Pakistan T shirts and a flag painted on the face. They chose to see the remaining match in School, as and when they could.

As they stepped out at 8 a.m,  they both made an expectant request ,
“Ammi pray for Pakistan.”

How could I say to them, “No I am Indian, I’ll pray for India.”

I felt , once again, proud of my decision to love both India and Pakistan as much . No more no less.

I watched the match like a daughter and like a mom changing roles as and when the two sides did some action worth applauding.

I was sad for Sachin not to have made the century but then I also felt enraged when Afridi got out too soon. I cheered for a brilliant low catch by Nehra but then got equally elated for Misbah when it was given in ‘not out’ by the third umpire.

I cheered both sides as much. No more no less.

The match got over. India won brilliantly. Pakistan lost miserably. The game was a treat to watch.

Many friends called and emailed me congratulating on Indian victory. I was pleased for India. No not because they are mine. But because they proved to be a better managed team.

The kids came back home, gloomy and defeated. My daughter with her eyes swollen, had cried  for having unable to bear the loss of her team and the fiery four letter words thrown at her by few fellow Indians. The son did not want to be hugged or talk about the match.

How could a mom rejoice for her victory with kids laden with sorrow ? Again the mom in me felt proud of having chosen to love both the lands as much. No more no less.

After hugs and cajoling they began to vent out their anger.

My girl blasts out her fury against India because of few nasty friends and shall support Sri Lanka in the Finals.

My boy is truly my boy, so he will side with India by “showing a big heart and sportsman spirit”, in his own words.

Time is the best healer. I know their bitterness shall vain but how I wish they had their prayers listened for today. As for me, sides did not matter. I would have been happy for Pakistan’s victory as much. No more no less.

My kids’ Pakistani buddies and my own Pakistani friends in real life or on Face Book are all enveloped in gloom and disbelief. It makes me sad too.

How could a mom or a friend rejoice when so many of her near and dear ones are gloomy? Again it made me realize  how right I was for having decided to call both the lands my own. No more no less.

Victory ceases to thrill when there is defeat and sadness all around.

The heart in me which feels and throbs with  the feelings of every disheartened  Pakistani, how can it rejoice?

Most of all it is the heart of a mom who’s babies aren’t happy today. So how can that mom rejoice? She joins them in their sorrow as much. No more no less.

l love you my Pakistani kids, my Pakistani spouse and my Pakistani friends, and hence I love you too, PAKISTAN !

So how can that heart rejoice?

Just wished to add a beautiful poetry  sent by a cousin , who is also an Indian mom of Pakistani kids like me:

Hari dharti ha wahan to neela aasmaaan ha yahan

Wahan janam data hain yehan janmon ka nata ha

Jo seekh waha se pae ha wahi to yehan lotae ha

Aasha hi abilasha ha yehi jeet ki paribhasha

(P.S. Am an Indian married to a Pakistani man and two passionately Pakistani kids. And I love both INDIA- PAKISTAN as much. No more no less.)

I am in Mohali


I am in Mohali
I am the gentle breeze blowing in Mohali
I am the the cool environ from the overcast skies in Mohali
I am the security ensured by the law enforcing forces in Mohali
I am the welcome hugs from the cricket loving residents in Mohali
I am the hospitality of the open hearted shopkeepers in Mohali
I am the smiles exchanged between the host and the guests in Mohali
I am the goodwill carried by the two Prime Ministers present in Mohali.
I am the square shoulders of the big wigs rubbing each other in Mohali
I am the excitement of the common man seated in the stands in Mohali.
I am the dignified calmness of the uber cool captain Dhoni in Mohali
I am the roars of the passionate and explosive skipper Afridi in Mohali
I am the cheers and acclamations of every good shot played in Mohali.
I am the screams and appeals aimed at the umpire for every out in Mohali.
I am the racing heartbeats of the spectators and the players in Mohali
I am the fear and killing suspense of the outcome of final overs in Mohali
I am the sportsman spirit coming alive, loud and visible in Mohali
I am the the beginning of the end of hate-each-other wave in Mohali
I am the spirit of love-thy-neighbour picking up once gain in Mohali.
I am the feeling of a bonding between the two neighbors so visible in Mohali
Yes I am everywhere in Mohali.