Gham-e-maut mujhay nahi hai (fear of death, I have not) — February 24, 2018

Gham-e-maut mujhay nahi hai (fear of death, I have not)

I’m sharing a poem that I wrote 3 years ago, on this same day (or was it previous late night?)  It’s in Urdu, full of flaws, unbalanced.mixed ideas, facts and emotions. Nonetheless, something.

Let me know what you think. 🙂 And I know it’s a bit annoying  to read Roman Urdu (specially the way I write) XD but hehe I’m tooo lazy to type it. Sorry, not sorry, sorry? 😛 (maut=moot=mot=death however you like to spell it)

My parents have given me a beautiful name, a beautiful title and if I ever truly become that. Gham e maut mujhay nahi hai. ❤ Here goes:


Sab doobtay hain gham main,
koi nai baat nahi hai.

Hanstay hai sab kabhi na kabhi,
koi khaas baat nahi hai!

Bhool jatain hain deen-e- Islam,
koi nai baat nahi hai.

Gir jatay hain dunya kay khaddon mai,
kia afsoos ki baat nahi hai?

Baghair soochay samjhay karlaytain hai loog baray gunah,
koi nai baat nahi hai!

Magr kama laitain hain kuch loog thawaab sotay hee mai,
kia khaas baat nahi hai?

Dafan hoti hain maiyatain qabaristan mai rozana,
koi nai baat nahi hai!

Zinda thay wo bhi pahlay,
kia ye soochnay ki baat nahi hai?

Soochnay baithain hum to,
kartay kuch nahi hain!

Kar kay kuch bathain to,
soochtay kuch nahi hai!

Magan rahtay hai zindagi mai,
mazaq baat nahi hai!

Bhool jatay hai hum kay,
maqsad-e-wujood ye nahi hai!

Nahi kuch kia is zindagi mai to,
moon kia dekhaingay hashr main?

Kia jannat ke kirkee khulay gi ya,
saraingay hum qabr main?

Ataa hai malik-kul-maut,
roznana khuda kay hokum say

Kheench layta hai  rooh wo badan say,
kia ye humain pata nahi hai?

Jaana hai har ik insaa ko is dunya say,
magar naikioon say pahlay inteqaal ho jai to,
kia udaasee ki baat nahi hai?

Dhans chuki ho tum is dunya kay daldal main….yahan,
Nikalo apnay aap ko tum is jal say kisi …tarha!

Dair mat karo chunkay paai jatay hain fitnay baray …yahan,
Aik say bhago to dosra aajaai ga …wahaan!

Dil-o demagh mai kabhi ik baat aatee hai mray,
Agar ban jaoon mai sahih maino mai aibon say paak,
To gham e maut mujhay nahi hai!

Rab mra mujh say razzee ho,
Kia yahi khushi nahi hai?

 

INKY

Day 7: A lost key — October 7, 2017

Day 7: A lost key

With time her thoughts became as dangerous as poison and as dark as a grave, leading her  into a maze with no way out.

Except for one, that was to unlock the door of hope.With the lost key being poetry?which she had forgotten. Yet she picked up the pen filled with ink as dark as her heart and spilled poetry. Letting the white paper soak in her thoughts, emotions and misery and lighting her soul.
Inky

Past hope — March 3, 2017

Past hope

Million years ago when dinosaurs used to live and die,
Some were huge and some could fly,
Just like my hope that soars or cries.

My hope is immense yet it burns,
Burns out when the tables turn,
And in my life emotions churn.

-INKY

 

Fistful — March 12, 2016

Fistful

I took a fistful of burned rose petals and threw them in the air.

I knew I was making a mess but I really didn’t care.

To stop me from watching them,no one did dare.

So I was left alone accompanied with thoughts and all I did was stare.

 

 

 

Tiny pieces crushed,burned and crumbled.

Like people scarred,broken and humbled.

 

 

They took flight with all their might,

To directions they themselves derived.

Like people who go away but promised,

That they will no doubt unite.

 

 

They flew along as long as they could,

But then they were there,where others stood.

Like when for people above and below is soil that lies,

That is when they and we actually unite.

 

The End!

12-03-2016

 

 

If my thoughts are… — January 9, 2016

If my thoughts are…

If my thoughts are like the river,

Then it is a river that will forever flow!

 

If my thoughts are like the grains in an hour glass,

Then it is in that hour glass that is never satisfied!

 

If my thoughts are like a balloon,

Then they are that which keeps getting bigger and bigger as time passes!

 

If my thoughts are like the thunder,

Then they are that thunder that keeps on roaring!

 

If my thoughts are like the tree,

Then they are that tree that keeps growing!

 

If my thoughts are like the pen,

Then they are that pen that never stops writing!

 

If my thoughts are like the rose,

Then they are that rose that will never lose its scent!

 

If my thoughts are like the numbers,

Then they are the numbers on the path of infinity!

 

If my thoughts are really all mine,

Then they will perish when I die and I will die when HE wills!

What are burned roses? — November 14, 2015

What are burned roses?

Once upon a time 🙄 a couple of months ago, during summer 😎 while making my way up to my room there popped a question: What are burned roses?

At first I myself was boggled by such a random question. 😮 Never did I think I would question myself this.I was lost in thought of how I connected two random words.Yes,I get distracted. 😛

Later on,I tried to answer it 🙂 and the fact is I could not give an answer that could reach the level of satisfaction.I had more than one reply for the question I was asked.

The following are the ways I answered the question.

Please note this isn’t supposed to be related to my previous post 🌹 جلا ہوا گلاب تھا وہ. However I would like to tell you that after I had answered this question another question came up and I answered it in a poetic-ish way. 😀 I will be sharing that also.Here it is!

Oh and if you have any answers for the question do tell.Plus,let me know which one you liked.

What are burned roses?

They resemble beautiful people who were hit by the cruelty of this world without, the opportunity of grabbing onto hope.

What are burned roses?

They are people whose thoughts are unfathomable, they fake smile often. Deep down their heart roars as the thunder and sadness strikes them like lightning. In the darkness of the night when all creatures are asleep that’s when they, to themselves weep.

What are burned roses?

They are like people who were previously known as optimist but time drained all the hope out of them.

What are burned roses?

They were innocent homo sapiens (like you and I) but were killed for reasons beyond anyone’s comprehension.

What are burned roses?

They are people who fall into deep hole of misery because their creativity was titles ‘rubbish’ and their thoughts labelled ‘lame’.

What are burned roses?

They are those people who called death to their door steps, because of the fact that they believed that they weren’t strong enough to win the battles .

🌹 جلا ہوا گلاب تھا وہ — November 7, 2015

🌹 جلا ہوا گلاب تھا وہ

Accidentally inked on: 8/6/15
Accidentally inked on: 8/6/15

Transliteration:

Title: Jala howa gulaab tha.

Gham ke konwain mein dooba tha wo,

Tanhai kai ghaar mai rehta tha wo.

Khaamoshi kai qilai mai panah laita tha wo,

Insaan ki hasrat to jaanta tha wo.

Dard o dukh samajh na ka talib tha wo,

Mehnat o  mushaqqat ka aalim tha wo.

Magr lutf o maza na jaanta tha wo,

Chaand ki chamak ko na pahchaanta tha wo.

Dosroon ko khush rakhna apna maqsad samajhta tha wo,

Muskorahat kai peechai apna gham chupa deta tha wo.

Umeed bharay dil ka shayad malik tha wo,

Khuda ka yaqeenan aabid tha wo,

Magr mot/maut ka yaqeenan sabir tha wo.

To let be sabotaged, or not to be ,is the question! — October 3, 2015

To let be sabotaged, or not to be ,is the question!

They say writing is therapeutic, perhaps not for everyone. Some may express feelings by painting them out, some share their tales verbally, others gulp them in.That can be dangerous because little by little the misery, guilt and unknown emotions will eat you away. So letting is out is like breathing out carbon dioxide it’s healthy for the mind and heart.

That ink that the paper absorbs are thousands of tiny drops each filled with imponderable forces, inexplicable emotions with a tale to tell, an advice to give and some reality to expose.

The pen, ink and paper heal the heart; tame the mind by absorbing some of the sorrow and lightning the burden of the soul. Thus giving the brain a wider canvas to paint on and setting the heart free soaring between the lines, above and below the pages all which are blank, waiting to be majestically designed by what the heart wills for.

Though not all is what it seems like. Some are addicted to pain, obsessed with misery and adore the feeling of despair. They don’t trust paper and let that habit of theirs lead them to an end that they yearn for.Death approaches and content they feel with their story ending this way for they assumed no other way, remained.

Assumptions, merely on assumptions they build up their life on. Little did they know that those assumptions were never their companion but always the enemy in disguise waiting to sabotage. If only they had somehow let go, let the antidote heal the blood furiously rushing to their heart. Pulled on to the rope of hope or at least not drowned in the self-created ocean of sadness.

To be sabotaged, or not to be, is the question!
Let a clear mind and an awoken heart, let you decide.

accidentallyinked

Date- 27/9/15  Time-7:35 pm