The Sinister Laugh of Satan

[Yet another something I dug from my ‘things i wrote’ folder.. 🙂 ]

Every human shape I perceive
Has a Satan lying underneath
The eyes have a banner: ‘We have no shame’
And Satan laughs for he has got fame.

Violence and immorality fill the atmosphere
And in making this possible every person has his share
Fashion and new trends form talk of the day
And I see Satan merrier than I could say

There is no honor, no privacy
Horrifying scenes are wherever I see
Evil is here in full and in half
And I can see Satan with his sinister laugh!

Written on 11.7.1997


deep inside
that little heart
are meanings
beyond words
are questions
beyond answers

the lump
that chokes the throat
the fear
that grips the heart
the tear
that wets the eye
that scream
that gets drowned inside

endless questions
deafening silence
meaningless words
mocking sympathy
lies, lies
and lies

the frown
on the forehead
the vacuum
in the eye
carry meanings
that words can’t

about childhood
thats broken
before it could stand up
and smile.

A Journey that was complete

A Journey that was complete

A strong body with an oppressed soul
Struggling to know life’s goal
Had a difficult time among bid boulders
More so because of his burdened shoulders
His favorite words were ‘I’ and ‘Me’
Evil surrounded him as far as he could see
One day he wished to see some light
In the evil darkness something bright:

He turned here and he turned there
He stumbled now and then
His soul was stressed and full of fear
But his fear left him when:

He saw something really bright
He stood in awe: too mystified
It was the end of his exile
And on his face there was a smile
He yearned to reach that shining light

A step and two
And that was it.

He died on the way
But, his journey was complete!

He had already done his best
And that is what counts leaving the rest
His life became a fruitful one
He accepted slavery of none but One

He had reached the promised place
Where there was beauty and grace
He had sought Allah’s pleasure
And has certainly had got it!

(Written on 31.7.1997)

Nov Sheen Mubarak!

The chilling cold seeped through the many layers of clothes I was wearing. I rubbed my hands to keep them from freezing… My nose had turned reindeer red, and I snuggled it inside my muffler. It was cold!

We all had hoped the snow would fall… the previous year had been a difficult one with no snow in the city—resulting in water problems throughout the year. We hoped that this white blanket would cover us soon – promising plenty of water for the year and a break in the harsh spell of cold.

I kept walking, stamping my feet as I walked, to keep them warm. All round the city was deserted – muddy and cold. I walked past an old man smiling cheerfully – his face red with cold and his pheran[1] hiding the kanger[2]… I wish I had brought mine with me.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“These people should have home delivery of “chot[3]”!” I mumbled … as I walked on to the Kandur[4] shop. The aroma and the warmth of the shop reminded me that I was hungry and freezing.

It was warm inside the shop… I saw the kandur shaping the dough into “chot”, putting it in the tandoor[5] and taking it out – almost simultaneously. I marveled at his ability and envied his feet right next to the tandoor.

“Manzoora…. Pack 10 for me..”

Manzoora smiled back, and kept busy with his work, passing on bags of “chot” to those who had come before me. As my order was ready, I walked out with the hot “chot” in my bag. I looked up at the sky almost involuntarily – when will it snow?

* * * * * * * * * * *

I walked past the “band[6]” watching the marvel of nature around me. The trees were naked, the soil which used to be lush and green was brown and barren, there were no birds singing and chirping….even they seemed to be upset and gloomy today … everything looked brown and dead…

And I thought.. soon after the spell of winter has broken.. it will be all green and beautiful… thoughts of future made me smile..

Just then .. I was almost about to slip and it brought me back from my musings of future to the stark naked ugly reality.

Thinking of what I would do today after going home.. I walked on… when I saw a crowd of people…

Somebody’s corpse was just thrown by the army vehicle …. People were looking around trying to ascertain who he was… some sighing, some with tears in their eyes….

He had been shot.. shot many times… “and then in the news they will say, he died in an encounter”, I thought, disgusted and sickened.

The dead body lay there… abandoned and pitiful. There was blood all over the pheran.. his face seemed smashed.. I couldn’t keep my eyes on it… It was too gruesome… a shiver ran through my spine…

It was a normal occurrence.. something that I shouldn’t react too emotionally at…. I couldn’t afford to get worried by this.. there were many things that I had to do today… and I have seen the whole drama repeat so many times… I shook my head in disgust, wondering who would be next…

And just when I took the last glance at the scene… making my mind to move on… move on with my life… the first flakes of snow fell…. I was hypnotized… I couldn’t move… I watched…. Watched how the snow was covering all of us… our pain and our misery in a white shroud.

* * * * * * * * * * *

[1] Long overall worn in winter

[2] Kanger: a pot full of coal used in winter to keep warm

[3] Kashmiri bread

[4] Baker (specifically makes traditional bread)

[5] oven

[6] river bank

Childhood Lost

Childhood lost…

When Childhood is lost
humanity cries
for those alive…
walking with an arrogant stride
with heads up high in gruesome pride

Ah! the tear that falls no more
from the eye that’s all dry
The questioning look
and an expression that’s all sour

Wretched indeed
is life where life’s
innocence has been stolen
where there lies pain
excruciating pain
deep within the heart
sending shivers in the soul

truly when childhood is lost
we have lost
the present, the future…
not just the past…

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The Love Story

Tuitions are a part and parcel of every student’s life in Srinagar and so were they a part of mine. Life was full of the same old things – tuitions, firings, crackdowns, exams, movies and more tuitions. It was during this monotonous schedule of going to tuitions that I first saw her… Continue reading

Ummah Enslaved

We are the Muslim Ummah
Slaves of Kufr!

We sit back and cry
As our brethren die
Yet, some of us are so great
That we start cursing the Muslim fate
Among us, there are some more
Who remark; “Muslims! There is no cure!”
While there are others least concerned?
When Muslims are killed and their houses burned

We are the Muslim Ummah?
Slaves of Kufr!

Muslims are we, proud we stand
Islam: its essence- we hardly understand!
O’ yes we had a great past
But no! Our future seems lost!
We used to be rulers, the leaders of the world
But today, enslaved! Laughing stock of the world
There was a time when we caused awe
Today we think of surviving each day

We are the Muslim Ummah?
Slaves of Kufr!

Some of us just don’t care
Miserable souls, got nothing to share
Our neighbour dies: we shut the doors
What Ummah? I cry, ” WHERE is that force?”
Muslims arise, you indifferent slaves
With what face, will ye face your graves?

We are the Muslim Ummah?
Slaves of Kufr!

With colonised minds, ready to prostate
In front of any power, lesser than The Great.
Lets face it!
We’re no better than the cattle in the meadow
Like grass, bending wherever the wind blows

We are the Muslim Ummah?
Slaves of Kufr!

But hey. Watch out! There sure is hope
If we all hold fast to Allah’s rope
With Iman and determination
Let us create a sensation.
Let us stop this enslavement of minds
For, one who strives is one who finds!

We are the Muslim Ummah-
Tired of this reign of Kufr!

Cuddled up.

cuddled up
in the folds of the leaves
the shine
within the green

the droplet stays
after the rain
brings the green
dispels the grays

an eye for beauty
finds it in abundance
in nooks and corners
in things quite evident

in clarity, in subtility…
purity speaks of beauty…
cuddled up
in the folds of leaves…

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The Butterfly

Tiny seeds…
an ugly string…
a blob awaiting flight….

Spreads its wings and
awaits flight….
Visits flowers
Drinks the sweet

and one fine day
it dies.

A short beautiful story
The story of a butterfly
with beautiful colours

speaks of a journey
of different forms
of different colours
and yet of life…
different and yet so similar
for those with flight
and those without.

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