I’ve tried to speak to you Through this glass wall. I know you do not hear me Any more. I’ve gestured And mouthed my words, Slow and loud Like the deaf mute. You did not seem to see. I’ve hammered and pounded And beaten at the glass, Until my hands bled. I’ve cried and wailed […]
In the immense solitude of the soul, In the dark depths of the heart, When the silence reaches a crescendo, There rises a cloud, Breaking the bounds of all restraint, Wrenched from the arms of pain, When a tear fills the eye And rebelliously rolls down, It heralds a Death; The death of A hope,
They named me after the falcon, For they knew that I must fly, That the wind beckoned me And so did the sky. They knew that I must wander, Or in stillness I would die; For my spirit was unfettered And all bonds were just a lie. No, I was no bird; Man was my
I laid her to rest, tonight __ our Relationship. As elegant in death, as in life, She lay in quiet splendour. In her hair, as soft as monsoon clouds, I sprinkled flowers and the many fragrances she had brought from lands near and distant. On her dark eyes, that had once sparkled like the sun
I LAID HER TO REST Read More »
[Used in GM novel] There is a melody in the air once again. Above the rustling of the leaves in the wind, Above the restless roar of tides breaking on shore, Through the thunder and the rain, Through the din of humanity’s endless grind, Hear the song? The music is soft, The Lyre is humming
It is time to return My dear, And bring back to me Those quiet, moist eyes In whose velvet depths, One late summer evening, I had witnessed the birth of Love. Bring back to me The silken touch of slender fingers, That raised a storm in my soul As they lingeringly caressed My face
Come Let us walk Along the wooded path Once more. In the twilight stillness, When the day and night Have suspended their differences, Take my hand And let your palm tell mine You are with me. Our footfalls muffled On dew drenched grass, Our breaths laboured in unison, Our hearts pushing their confines, Let us
Travelling to Turkey was a long cherished dream of mine. In fact, almost every Kidwai wanted to see Konya with his own eyes, from where Qazi Qudwa, their first ancestor had travelled to India in the late twelfth century. The members of the Kidwai/Qidwai clan were well aware of their social and intellectual capital in
Behind my closed But wakeful eyelids, Flit a thousand images; Resplendent in beauty, Inexpressible, In colours divine. No kaleidoscope more varied, More colourful was ever made. Hours like fragrance on the breeze, Swiftly float away. No reality I seek from my memory, No incidence of the past, When sublime peace evades me, I recall those
Come. Come kiss me Until my lips are bruised. Call me And I shall come to you unrestrained, Fear no longer binds my feet. No fear have I, Of losing you. No fear of heartache, I know must come, For have I not learnt My lessons of love from you? There is no time
