Poetry

The Cuckoo bird recited a symphony Whilst caravans continuously whistling A new genre called harmonic cacophony Soon I fathomed ’twas Him calling. My flesh and bones stood still Bulks o’er my lashes flexed Straight from a window sill I’d landed to an annex. There, He’s conducting an orchestra And awaiting an audience I lay shackled by His aura As an ...

(Author: I dedicate this poem to all those who were unfairly rusticated from Jamia during the tenure of the earlier vice-chancellor, Najeeb Jung.) He says he wants bread & hostel. Not only that he wants unbiased administration too. on top of that he wants genuine respect too. Rusticate him. He says ” our education is not for sale “. Not ...

Had it been I Would have gone too far Bending all the rules Crossing the seven seas Hiding you in the arms. I, a captive of yours forever remained inside while pumped happily this heart of yours with blood of mine dreams that rested beneath scared, between the bones shivered endlessly, afraid. do you see the stains I carry yes, ...

The ‘public’ element of administration is missing, and the institutions separated and purposely kissing. The blues of the service becomes a fantasy, and the claims of the state becomes an ecstasy. The lives of the people downtrodden and ailing, and canvas of the governance torn while sailing. The onset of empowering questions the power, the civil society seldom enjoys monsoon ...

I don’t know if I’m in love, Just felt butterflies in my stomach. It’s a Saturday night, I’m feeling alright, Thanks for making my life shine so bright. Eyes met, love happened right away, Time flies, but the memories will stay, You’re my life, & I wanna live, With your love, that you always give. Oh my boy, make up ...

And whenever in resounding corridors of time They will speak of dreams and stars, Of whirling dancing snow flakes Divine butterflies on oozing scars Whenever they will dip their brush Deep into thick colors of life, And splash the gray canvas of memories With dripping hues from tinctures so rife Sometime far, when they again will recall the past Feasting ...

It was a dark snowy night, Prancing forlorn under the pale moonlight. Flickered stars into the blue, Just then, the golden sea came into view. Had nothing to say ,not to listen, Was great to see through bright vision. Hidden thoughts were coming out, Want to shout with too much proud. My heart sinks with painful throb, Moving ahead in ...

Our romance begins in winter; Between I and the only city I know. Empty and clean. The never ending circles. I realize I love the roads. I love gazing at them. I realize I love the sky. Between the sky and the skies, I wonder, how much there is to know? Strong and Silent. I realize I love the elegance ...

“If dust had an alphabet, I would learn.” — Aga Shahid Ali Erelong, descrying a golden blush When soft orange rays Of an evening sun Melding with gentle twilight blue Bathed the distant creek Into a crimson hue And we gathered the smearing sun As one In our solemn eyes Yet today, in a scornful guise Akin to a weary ...

Through how many such ray less nights While scratching corroded wounds Have I been writing to You In obscure, blurry ink By the shade of an onerous yellow moon That hangs by my window Like an antique vapory lamp While air crinkles into paper And oceans cleave Transpiring One colossal roll of undeciphered whispers Then, axe these epochs, O Companion ...