I Do Not

I do not see, 

what others see,

In shallow depths and vain facades,

But only seek to see,

How the smallest of cogs fit into

this miracle of an existence

I do not hear, 

what others hear,

When shouts ring out in the silence

But only strain to hear,

The sounds of the individual lost,

In the crowds at the retreat

I do not smell,

what others smell,

The odours of our daily existence,

But only savour the smell,

Of people and flowers,

Of a different reality.

I do not feel,

what others feel,

As they stumble on in life,

But only seek to feel,

The sand papered reality,

That my mind creates.

I do not taste,

what others taste,

As they walk through this world,

But only try to taste,

The bitter flavour of emotions,

Crushed under people’s feet.

By Syed Ashraf Husain

PS - another of the poems I have started writing searching for a deeper meaning

The Edge

I shall walk to the edge of the cliff,
Muse and stare deep into the chasm,
And maybe for the first time I will shout out loud,
In the darkness that rises from the abyss,
Your name and the songs of your beauty.

The pilgrim cannot walk forever through the desert,
The wanderer will sometimes come back to a familiar place,
Sounds of glee ripple in deserted buildings too,
And as the same story repeats through all of history,
The ill in love sometimes shout the beloveds name.

As I travel through a city of strangers,
Of closed doors and windows with dark shades,
In the silence and desolation of the abyss,
I will shout out your name in the wilderness,
Again and again like a madman incarnate,
And maybe the sounds will drag away with them,
All my emotions and the intoxication of your name.

For all of humanity it’s the curse of Adam and Eve,
For as they were banished from the gardens of heaven,
It seemed God also sent along his wrath till the end of time,
A hundred emotions of joy but a thousand flavours of misery,
And even today when a man wakes up drowning in the blues,
Its the curse of Adam and Eve coursing through his every breath

As I stare into the abyss of dark emotions,
And as the abyss stares back at me,
Maybe for once I could see eye to eye ,
With twisted fate and the paradox of desire’s,
And the poet in me could just laugh and laugh,
At the vagaries of time.

By Ace
PS- I wrote this poetry sometime back inspired by the darkness of a dark dark day. I experimented with an alternating style where stanza's alternate between a macro and micro picture. Example the first stanza is about me but the next one talks in general of philosophy

Something about her

Another Haiku :P

"Its something about her,
Magical, mysterious, beautiful, elegant and heavenly,
That Every time I see her , I fall for her again."

Postscript- Its the tragedy of our lives being unable to see the woods for the trees. Of feeling lonely in a crowd. But thats us!!

Haiku

Her long tresses like beautiful thunder clouds,
Frequently tied back yet when free
Cascade around her shimmering like visions of paradise.

PS This is a line I have been trying to pen for three days. Still haven't perfected but Haiku makes you choose what to say. As of now I could write an epic on the dark tresses.

poetry

As you stare right through me.

Love is an illusion, a myth,

Its all compromises I shouted,

I have had my chances with love,

This heart ain't falling for anyone again,

Love is an illusion, a myth.

Its easy to break hearts,

Hearts of stone or hearts of broken glass,

The poet nurses all his wounds in silence,

But poetry flows out unabated,

The emotions need a release after all

I shout in the silence of the times,

The emptiness of dark nights,

Railing against the travesty of life,

That yet again I fall for someone,

A someone who stares right through me

I immortalize you through poetry,

Yet broken verses reveal no names,

And as you smile at the world,

I just keep gazing at you,

As I can't see anyone prettier around.

If you could be mine, 

I would walk along till the end of time,

Make you the heroine of epic tales,

Partner in stories of legendary fun,

Lazy days, busy days, rainy days ,sunny days

But you are also the heart breaker,

Pretending not to see the obvious, 

When I hang onto every word you say,

 For the most painful thing is seeing you,

Oblivious as you stare right through me,
Like I am a ghost who isn't even there..

Sweet memories

To the Indians Who Died in Africa

by T. S. Eliot

A man's destination is his own village,
His own fire, and his wife's cooking;
To sit in front of his own door at sunset
And see his grandson, and his neighbour's grandson
Playing in the dust together.


Scarred but secure, he has many memories
Which return at the hour of conversation,
(The warm or the cool hour, according to the climate)
Of foreign men, who fought in foreign places,
Foreign to each other.



A man's destination is not his destiny,
Every country is home to one man
And exile to another. Where a man dies bravely
At one with his destiny, that soil is his.
Let his village remember.



This was not your land, or ours: but a village in the Midlands,
And one in the Five Rivers, may have the same graveyard.
Let those who go home tell the same story of you:
Of action with a common purpose, action
None the less fruitful if neither you nor we
Know, until the judgement after death,
What is the fruit of action.

Eliot, T. S. "To the Indians Who Died in Africa." Collected Poems 1909-1962.

Psst:- This is a poem that I recited during the annual elocution contest in my school days.

Every second year a new English teacher used to think that because I had excellent spoken , I would naturally excel on stage and thus would nominate me for the elocution. And I would do it in style-forget my lines, mumble on staged, be booed off stage, be clapped off early and so on and so forth. And this happened year after year at contest after contest.

Of course it helped and my stage fright actually vanished when I entered college. Leaving behind many embarrassing memories littered on the shores of my mind.

Thats the reason when my batch mates sometimes compliment for my good communication skills( If I may say so), I cant help but smile over the past.

Anyway this is a poem I recited in class 8th or 7th and blew up spectacularly. However some disjointed verse remained fixed in my mind and since I had forgotten the title I could do little to find the whole poem. Was delighted when I managed to google it some time back and I now share it.

Enjoy the lines.


I find the third para very moving and deep.

The Paradox of our lives

"
Duniya jise kehate hain jaadu ka khilona,
Mil jaaye to mitti hai, kho jaaye to sona hai
"
Roughly translated as "Life and world are said to be a magical toy. If one gets it all, its worth nothing. If we loose something what we loose seems like loosing gold"

I just thought how true it is. We pursue material gains as if they are all that matters. But we never know when the story could end.

Something similar
"
Zindagi ka muqaddar , safar dar safar,
Aakhiri saans tak beqaraar aadmi
"

Another year wanders by

Another year wanders by,

The dust swirls in the wind,

Confused rain moistens random evenings,

I see the familiar all around,

And yet I can't recognize the streets.

The world's going round and round,

And round and round and round,

And suddenly I see the familiarity,

For in a hazy flash I realize,

I have been here before.

The darkness claws at the light,

I can see the shadows at the back of my mind,

I want to close my eyes,

Hear the sounds, feel the shackles,

But I wonder what if the darkness waits,

Only for a moment like that.

To those who have closed their eyes,

Its all gone,

Now just follow the crowd,

But I could never shut my mind,

Questioning, wondering, musing, imagining

Its easy to sit back,

To watch life culminate at its pace,

But I must hope, fight persevere and believe,

For I want the shadows, the dazzles,

The sugars, the limes,

The almonds, the raisins,

The dates, the apples,

All those flavours, the wines,

Even from the grapes of wrath.

Something Deep

So I read this poem that really got me thinking. Its not touching but it is contemplative. What are our identities? The poetess is a migrant to UK(incidentally she is Ayesha Tharkers mother).And she asks the questions. I will quote only 3 paragraphs. Love the last para. In an oblique way. Search for the complete poem if u are interested. I love the last para.

THEY’LL SAY: ‘SHE MUST BE FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY’

When I can’t comprehend
why they’re burning books
or slashing paintings,
when they can’t bear to look
at god’s own nakedness,
when they ban the film
and gut the seats to stop the play
and I ask why
they just smile and say,
‘She must be
from another country.’

When I speak on the phone
and the vowel sounds are off
when the consonants are hard
and they should be soft,
they’ll catch on at once
they’ll pin it down
they’ll explain it right away
to their own satisfaction,
they’ll cluck their tongues
and say,
‘She must be
from another country.’

When my mouth goes up
instead of down,
when I wear a tablecloth
to go to town,
when they suspect I’m black
or hear I’m gay
they won’t be surprised,
they’ll purse their lips
and say,
‘She must be
from another country.’

But from where we are
it doesn’t look like a country,
it’s more like the cracks
that grow between borders
behind their backs.
That’s where I live.
And I’ll be happy to say,
‘I never learned your customs.
I don’t remember your language
or know your ways.
I must be
from another country.’

Imtiaz Dharker

I would simply never have walked

It’s a phase of solitude,

A season of setting suns,

Drenching rains ,

Cold mornings,

Sweaty afternoons,

Reminding me each moment of the futility,

Of things, people, actions and rewards



The emptiness around me that haunts me,

While I miss you in ways small and big,

And as my loneliness caresses me in a crowd,

I feel a void inside that seems to be endless.



It’s funny how long I have survived,

In this desert without water,

Like a swimmer who lost sight of land,

With water the nourisher being the final,

Destroyer.



Now,

In this season of forced smiles and artificial grace,

That I look back and wonder,

How long I have survived.



When I started on the long trudge,

Had I known the then unwritten play,

My journey would be so lonely,

And I would hope of love,

Yet never close to drowning the emptiness,

Or filling up the yawning hole,

I would simply never have walked.

The FeelingSeason of blues

Its the season of blues,
I heard the wind say,
As it swirled up the dust,
And tugged at the drying leaves,
End of stay on the branch,
As now is the season of gloom,
The coming of the end,
Of all we see around

There will be new dawns,
New seasons,
Spring and autumns,
But people forget ,
Those will be another year,
Another time,
But the present would have long,
Been vanquished to dust.

In the lonely season of blues,
Everyone survives in isolation,
Loneliness in a crowd,
Maladies with no cures,
There is a numbing within,
A disconnect with the world,
Feelings,
Bottled up emotions

Feelings that are not felt,
Emotions seemingly absent,
Near yet so far,
There is no grief,
No tears, no cries,
In this season of the Blues,
Yet a weight hangs,
All around,
Everywhere

From tha archives-nahin,ek ghazal

Beyond my poetry and prose in English, I have also occasionally dabbled in writing poetry in Hindi, or o be more specific ghazals(Hindi and Urdu for a large part of history was the same language written in different scripts). This ghazal(the first one I ever completed) does not really adhere to traditional rhyme and meter. Thats why I call my blog disjointed verses.

By the way, I use the takhallus,(poetic pseudonym) Daag . Urdu poetry has this tradition that the poet in the last sher(stanza refers back to himself in the third person).

There is a story behind this ghazal and indeed there is a theme that connects all the ghazals I have written till now(I have written so less that its possible). But that story of solitude and loneliness is another blog post. This ghazal was part of my second year of engineering magazine(around three and a half years old.) Time flows.

Nahin, ek ghazal

Usne mujhe aashiq kahke taal diya,magar
Baat mein uski ek jaadu tha jo main rootha bhee nahin.

Kehti hai khel hain sab,magar mujhe bataaye woh aaj
Aag agar idhar hai to kya dhuan udhar nahin.

Ye khumar nahin suroor hai tera kya bataaon tumhe,
main tere ishq mein yun dooba ki jaaga hi nahin.

Main uske do isharon mein hee sab samajh jaata hoon,
Woh teen lafzon mein bhee kyun haal bata paati nahin.

Wahi meri munsif hai, wahi meri qaatil bhee,
Mere ishq ke haq mein phaisla degi ya nahin.

'Daag', jal rahee hai ek ghazal seene mein,
Arz karta hoon baar-baar, phir bhee kyun bujhtee nahin.

Syed Ashraf Husain 'Daag'

नहीं, एक ग़ज़ल

उसने मुझे आशिक कहके ताल दिया,मगर
बात में उसकी एक जादू था जो मैं रूठा भी नहीं |

कहती है खेल हैं सब,मगर मुझे बताये वोह आज
आग अगर इधर है तो क्या धुआं उधर नहीं |

ये खुमार नहीं सुरूर है तेरा क्या बताओं तुम्हे,
मैं तेरे इश्क में यूँ डूबा की जागा ही नहीं |

मैं उसके दो इशारों में ही सब समझ जाता हूँ,
वोह तीन लफ़्ज़ों में भी क्यूँ हाल बता पाती नहीं |

वही मेरी मुंसिफ है, वही मेरी कातिल भी,
मेरे इश्क के हक में फैसला देगी या नहीं |

'दाग़', जल रही है एक ग़ज़ल सीने में,
अर्ज़ करता हूँ बार-बारफ़, फिर भी क्यूँ बुझती नहीं .|

स्येद अशरफ हुसैन 'दाग़ '

Feelings

Feelings always seem,
a mirage.
A rainbow sandwich ,
with layers,
unknown,unseen and
untasted.

I bite, I munch, I savor,
I introspect,
And I still dont know,
what I feel for you,
how your memories bring up the tastes,
they do.

Doubt is my enemy,
I know.
There were the sparks,
But I thought it was just a phase,
You and me had nothing in common,
I thought and I told myself.

Now the cycle of doubt completes,
You hang over me and all around,
Like a smog on a wintery morning,
And on a happy day or sad day,
I replay in head again and again,
Your laugh,
Your smiles and the waving of compliments,
Your random new accent.

In times like these,
Where I am myself unsure of the truth,
How do I tell it to you,
For when you will read this here,
You will smell a scent from the past,
And wonder if it's you,
This narcissistic refers to.

Realization !

Just read this poem . Liked it. Thought I would share it.

What is within you is better than
What is behind you and ahead of you
We should live like a Lotus leaf
It is surrounded by water but dry
Not a drop of water settles on it
It is detached attachment or nishkama karma
Do your duty and leave the rest to GOD
We have free-will and choice as
we have reason but there is a subtle
distinction between GOD’s will and pleasure
He wills both vice and virtue but
what pleases Him is virtue.
Destiny is real as birth and death
Many are called, but few are Chosen
Self-pity is defeating but hubris is a delusion
we surrender not because we have to but
as we are United in Spirit, the spirit that was
never born and shall never perish !

Late night regrets

A dark cloud muffles the stars,
Its now late at night,
Loneliness creeps upto me in the darkness,
And I am there looking at your number.

I want to call,
Feel a frayed connection,
Imaginary or real,
And simply talk my heart out.

I look at the past,
And wonder ifff,
Just if,
I should have taken the risk,
And created magic myself when I could ,
Rather than hope for it to rise from nothing,
For I wonder if just maybe,
Just Maybe,
There could be a story between us

The connection though frayed,
Still exists.
Maybe time has not all,
Run out,
For I still remember you,
Pretty as the flowers,
With the flowers,
But now time has taken you,
So far far away

I ramble,
Delusional,
Hallucinating on a dark night,
Its late and lonely,
And I look at your number.

Again as always,
I wonder if I should call,
For you shall never call,
But I must maintain facades,
And today I feel overcome by regret,
So I shall call when I can again,
Fake the laugh.
And the attitude.

The pages of a closed book ruffle again

"Phir usi bewafa pe marte hai,
Phir wohi zindagi hamaari hai"

The pages of a closed book rustle again,
Someone calls, who I had long ago forgotten,
A wind that had long ago died awakens,
My heart suddenly skips a beat.

Its her again,my heart moans,
Cruel crusher of love,
Heartless destroyer of a poet's heart,
And a brazen pretender as if nothing happened.

I spent years forgetting her,
Telling myself each day its all over,
Till I myself grew blind to the realities,
But someone returns from the past,
Destroying the calm,still the same heartbreaker as ever,
And I suddenly despair on realizing,
Love even if one-sided,never dies,
And she will haunt me forever

The way of the TAO

'I choose to enjoy living the great mystery. The Tao that can be named is not the Tao.'

So I have brought this extremely thin book on the 88 verses of Tao. I was just browsing in the campus book-store and I come across this gem of a book. I had free discount coupons at home but I decided not to risk the edition being snatched before I could come back. So I bought it.

And now I am intoxicated after having drunk deep poetry.

'My work when it is done ,is forgotten. That is why it lasts forever.'

My Big Fat Greek Wedding

This is the recommended movie of the week.

I had this movie on my system for a long long time but could only watch it yesterday.

My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a wonderful movie not because it entertains us but more so that it explores the subtle realities that surround each and every culture.

The plot synopsis from wikipedia
"
The movie is centered on Toula, a Greek-American woman , who falls in love with a non-Greek American, Ian Miller . The movie also examines the protagonist's relationship with her family, with their cultural heritage and value system, which is sometimes rocky but ends with mutual appreciation.
"

Now my point. The movie is great great entertainment. Typical candy romance. Just multi-flavoured.

One of the most beautiful moments in the movie comes when Toula has some doubts on whether it could work. Because though her family managed to accept the to be groom, still she knew a tradition is

"Listen Tula my village saw many wars. Turkish, German. They all made a mess. But my mother said we are lucky. We are lucky to be alive. And I thought we are not lucky to be alive. We are not lucky when they are telling us where we should live, what we should eat.

Nobody , has that right.

And then I see you.And I see Adena and Nichol(siblings of Toula). We came here for you. So you could live. We gave you a life so you could live it."

Its a very liberating statement and the movie ends on a happy note sometime later.

A lot of fun is poked at the oddities of Greek culture in the movie but its just for fun.

A must watch. Even if one has to rent the DVD.

Favourite Videos

Maybe Tomorrow Is A Better Day by POETS OF THE FALL

Love this song esp the line " I won't cry for my solitude, lay my head and dream of you"




I'd stay the hand of god, but the war is on your lips
How can I brace myself for razor blades on whips
When everything with meaning is shattered, broken, screaming
And I'm lost inside this darkness and I fear I won't survive

I could pray and trick with a double tongue, but the only fool here's me
I choose the way to go, but the road won't set me free
Cos I wish you'd see me, baby, save me, I'm going crazy
Tryin' to keep us real, keep us alive

This day will die tonight and there ain't no exception
We shouldn't wait for nothing to wait for
Love me in this fable, babe, my heart is in your hand
Our time is waiting right outside your door
And maybe tomorrow is a better day

I do not deal the cards and I play a lousy hand
I celebrate no victories and my promises are sand
Against all this I contrast you, when all is lost the war is through
Hey angel, dare the winds now we can fly

This day will die tonight and there ain't no exception
Why should I wait for nothing to wait for
Let me love you in this fable, hold your heart in my hand
Our time is waiting right outside your door
And maybe tomorrow is a better day

This day will die tonight and there ain't no exception
Why should I wait for nothing to wait for
I won't cry for my solitude, lay my head and dream of you
And hope that you'll come knocking on my door
And maybe tomorrow is a better day
I know tomorrow is a better day

Enjoy

What more can I say!!!!!!!!

My heart is crying out loud tonight
Coz I just want to hold you close,
And time is flying away too fast

Am stumbling through a jungle,
Cant really see through the haze,
And I am running in circles for you.

Suddenly my poetry rhymes,
Don’t know what magic you did,
For I just cant get over you.

The world can feel my love,
Everyone asks me your name,
I just wish you had a face.

P.S. this is poetry I wrote recently in June. Its quite rare I indulge such fantasies of mine knowing how morose poetry sounds to most people. Its because of this only that I have shifted to small paras