Monthly Archives: February 2012

They never were.

In the name of God.


Life, it was, without you there

But here you are, larger than life,

The storm in the hands of every strife,

Creeps upon my slumber unaware


It excites the wind, in torrents it blew,

In every direction did my dreams fly,

Away and beyond that which we knew

As the pearls that lay in the midnight sky.


Laughter erupted from glistening eyes,

For scorn, anger, and earnest lies,

Brought forth on the lip, the very same,

That taught me naught, except my name


A prayer she sang, all night long,

Strung desperately, a wordless song,

She knows that everything didn’t belong,

She knows she did everything, everything, wrong.


Alas, what happened to the solitary dame,

Who did nothing except in His name,

Her wings are soiled and left to rot,

In the foliage yonder; drunk, caught.


She waits and waits for the wind to cease,

She dreads tirelessly the ocean breeze,

She wishes to fly free once more,

In the beckoning sky; pearls galore.


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Posted by on February 28, 2012 in Poetry


A medley of rants.


What is it that keeps the orchestra of life playing on a high note?

Does it mean that,

Because we lack certain instruments,

We cannot play beautiful music?

Just a thought.

In the end everything boils down to the beat we play to – how everything is kept in check. Every bow, string, and horn harmoniously entwined in the most beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard,

Or everything broken, out of tune, a torment to all that encounters it.

Just a thought.


Sometimes the lack of higher motives in the things I do compels me to thoroughly question my role in the bigger scheme of things. Do I even have a role to begin with? That is a very depressing question.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps us going in life is the search for answers.

Perhaps life ends once the search is complete.

Perhaps life ends before the search is complete.

Perhaps life is merely a part of the search.


Many thoughts come to mind at a single word, but none of them escapes my lips, none make it past the tongue.

Is it fear?

Is it the awareness of the consequences that might follow?

Aren’t those two the same?


It helps to know what you don’t know. That is the secret of the wise.

It helps to admit what you don’t know. That is the secret of the humble.

It helps to fill the cup once you realize it is empty. That is the secret of the seeker.


Silence is not a habit of the ignorant.

Dominion is not sought by the wise.


Perhaps the equation is as such;

A man of little knowledge needs a thousand words to explain a single image; but the parable of the knowledgeable man is that everything he does paints images of a million words.

Where are we, then?


“Understand thy religion then pursue the spiritual path.” – Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai (d.1752)


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Posted by on February 14, 2012 in Rants


I hope, I hope, that you will, that you won’t.

In the name of Allah.


I imagined a field, lush and serene –

It catches me in wonderment,

Could such a scene –

Produce a sentiment

Illusive yet keen,

To find what it meant,

And now, what it means?


I am apprehensive at best (double entendre meant)

And I fear, lest

My worries shun you, should I fail to repent.


And I continue to wonder,

If you will ever be,

A true friend, truer still – Meant for me,

Or will you pass on like the cold monsoon wind,

And remain just a name, to haunt me till the end?


The turbulent storms begin to fade,

The beginning of the end of a new decade,

The heart pauses and heaves a sigh,

It is broken; an innuendo – a silent cry.


And I thought all heart and hope was lost,

In the ocean yonder, my sins; the cost

Was all misery and melancholy, bundled up and warm,

My traveler’s kit to brave the next storm.


Then along came your ship,

Sails hoisted high above,

Sweet words poised upon your lip,

Words of warmth, care and love.


I’ll tell you again, I am

Apprehensive at best, a lamb,

Afraid of everything; skeptical

Clumsy, nervous and impractical.


But the sails are far

And my gaze is cast

Away, and perhaps, at last,

There will be an end to this furor.


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Posted by on February 13, 2012 in Poetry


For He is the Caretaker of our souls, the Manager of our hearts.

In the name of Allah Almighty.


[The following is a short story, hastily conjectured from the recesses of my imagination. The whole situation and characters were purposely made anonymous – so place whoever you may please in the positions of the characters, and place them in any setting you want. Go ahead and experiment with different situations and people. You might fall into interestingly contrasting conclusions at the end of each experiment. Enjoy!]


“I made this for you,” she whispered. Our eyes met for a moment, then I cast my gaze on the object clasped in her fingers. Delicate and thin – but with the grip of an eagle, I thought.
I risked another glance at her sullen face, indeed I saw every trait of the eagle in her: the flash of its mighty wings and intimidating eyes, the brooding stance it maintains with the curve of its neck – all of it, combined and ossified into the picture that was her; pale, intimidating, alone.


“you wouldn’t let me take it”, I replied, and attempted to turn up the corners of my lips in an indistinguishable smile. I wagered to uplift the mood for a moment, then thought better of it; every move I made around her was a gamble between life and death. The air hung, still, as if it too were in suspense. The anticipation amplified the silence around us, and the inaudible beating of our hearts suddenly became the only thing we could hear. They beat as one. Lub dub, lub dub. The beat was hypnotizing.


Her lips parted. “Hypocrite!” she cried. “the words you put in my mouth – those words alone! They are enough to corrupt your bones. The lies that pour forth from your lips – you think you can render me subservient to your whims!” the anger in her voice coupled with a deathly stare, with the full intention of setting daggers in my heart. My own voice quavered upon the impact. “yet to shun you is to throw my life away”, I tell her. Oh delicate, delicate love. Had you been the flower that carries no poison you would be naught. You would be like every other flower I’ve tasted in the field. Nay, you will be mine. You are mine.


“lies!” her voice was an innuendo of a broken heart. Her tone was reaching a crescendo of sorts. “you lie! You lie! You are nothing but lies!” at this point my own heart began to break in desperation. “how can I declare a lie if I have never known the truth?” my voice began to match hers. A mistake. Her eyes were bright with tears, and I knew she was fashioning an escape before I could continue. I flew to embrace her. Love, love. We were one since the beginning. Don’t leave me, not now. Won’t you like to end the way we began?


Alas, what is flight when the eagle has flown? What is love when life has ceased?


I found myself pressed against the glass, cold and withered. The object she left me crushed in my grip. Every atom in me refused to give up – I relentlessly pushed, still. This was the glass through which I once saw everything. Now, I see nothing.


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Posted by on February 3, 2012 in Rants, Spirituality