chimes of a forgotten melody

Opening the doors, that spent all their life gently serving My feeble egoism, though taking none of my gratitude. Eyes were then training to devour the flash of light and To define the tangled threads of a motherly nature's love. The light seemed offending at first, but my search for Miracles found me hopping merrily behind the granter Of  joy, an old lizard! As I searched the sparks of my Vision, the moments were summed up by the words                       I discovered myself

I dedicate this poem to all Pakistanis. You are all as much a kin to me as Indians. One of the many images of partition that moved me emotionally. It was also the cover photo of  Yasmin Khan's book, The Great Partition  The second column of Muslims passed, Not a soul in our side had the strength, To shower them with our words; cursed, Along they passed as silent as us, Drifting with the hot and wild wind, That very often burns our face, As we cut through this desert; wretched. O lovely dawn of freedom, while you showered purple and gold, half of us never knew what future held, Singing and dancing beneath the relentless sun, we hugged and kissed the conspirator's arms. The line drawn that sliced Punjab, The surgical tool that dissected Bengal, Never seemed more poignant, Till it ripped us apart from Lahore, And made us to savor this journey. Guided by a false pretense of safety, Moving onto a false notion of liberty, Living on the narrow verg

The sober winds of a rather warm November Blew steadily towards the East. From the seas They traveled, and the people they subdued Under their severe show of power, they also Took a brief moment to share a poignant story: 'From the fields of a nation where red flags flew With sparks of gold radiating from its corners In passion and unwavering ecstasy, we speak of Puerile minds who were offended of being Abused by destiny which kept them hungry Each morning, while we (the winds) ate their Fragile (yet tasty) homes and drank their sweat. Is it offending to be favored by birth? Anarchism Proliferated among them, their withheld bodies Ached for freedom and the legend of a man, who Cut though winds in his motorcycle, gave them aid! To be stupid and to be outraged is a mortal sin, And it must be said with sadness, they paid! How do you define a common man? What is it That makes a man uncommon? Is it the luxury That keeps him li

Chastity of the world rose like dead fish and The smell of un-cremated emotions stealthily polluted The waters that flew patiently beneath the core. Feeling the warmth of the decaying carcass, the poet Laundered ceaselessly his stained outfit presented By his mother at the revered hour when poetry was Implanted in him with the surge of 'bili' lights. He never slept again, waking up with a start, Forgetting the jaundice which killed his better half, Which continued to haunt him when he tried to move his limbs. A stammer never escaped his speech, but his poems Overflowed with the love that his mother lacked When she left him alone with the blue lights, which He revived unerringly, each time with a silent disgust! On a day when apathy crept through his quiescent half, He found a crushed chrysalis in his garden, he looked At it and wrote the poem which you have just strode on!

Somewhere I have read a banner that said about Sachin Tendulkar, 'Many compare Sachin with God. I mean he maybe great, but not as great as Sachin'. Having left the field for one final time today, I try to pay a small tribute for everything this cricketing legend did for the country in the past 24 years of his career. To my audience who may not know of him, I must say, he is more than just a cricketer, but truly the most loved person in India. And that indeed is the reason why he was awarded Bharat Ratna (the highest civilian honor in India) and also became the youngest person (at 40) and the first sportsperson to receive the award. When Sachin showed up in the cover of the TIME magazine Along the unfathomable walks through Streets that overwhelmed my vehement Desires to keep track of the moments That a nation forgets to take a breath, I found devotees of a God that proclaimed Neither of the miracles he performed, nor Of the souls he led onto salvation, but A