The Hazel of Serfah / Hue 1

The Hazel of Serfah

Hue 1

Ever missed someone so much, in the broad daylight of remembrance, as the sun climbs the blue staircase, and the shadows follow, creeping up from boots and legs and spreading across like a black mirror?
I have. And I have lost myself in pursuit.
For when the the night falls and the moon, in all its lunacy, takes a mask of the one you love, flaunting it, piercing it into your eyes, there's a lake, always the same. Its calm, yet bears the omen of a storm. Cuz when you look into it, the wavy sheet of a star-lit body, it shows you your reflection. A mirage. Only you, are not there.

Ever missed someone so much, that eventually you miss yourself.
I have. And I have crossed myself, in pursuit...

Late in the afternoon

It happened on one of those days, you don’t really expect much. Not because you’ve suffered recent relationship-losses or something else of that manner, but for the precisely cynical reason that it will. I sometimes call it a summer late-in-the-noon realization (cause that is when it usually occurs).

 

I boarded a bus to the marketplace, which is pretty far off from where I live. It was like any other Indian bus, the most elegant feature of which is, not its colour or a particular make or a blazing radio, but its crowdedness. So unfortunately I had to stand my way through the distance. My eyes wandering, as they usually are when you can’t relax them for the simple reason that no one would allow you to, fell on 2 long fingers, moving in semi-circles with a pencil, planting sketches on the piece of paper held below. She, the girl with those fingers, was sitting right in front of me. And yet absorbed in a completely different world (the one you use your daydreaming-boarding passes for). I watched her for quite a while. The sketch wasn’t clearly visible as the sunrays slanted in a weird angle over it. But I saw her tear it and start anew. Once more the same time interval and the tearing part again. It was the third time when she got really consumed and took about 20 minutes, after which she had a amused yet content look in her weakly-hazel eyes. And then all of a sudden, she looked up, held the sketch up and smiled at me. I was stumped for even an expression. It was her face and I was in a double bind as to which one to look at - God’s or hers? Finally, after several cloud fly-bys maybe, I raised a thumb. And just then, to my utter disbelief, she snapped it again. I couldn’t stop as the words rolled outta my tongue – “what the hell was that for?”

 

She, in the most none-of-your-business like eyes, looked at me and said, “I was just relaxing”. “But…..” She cut across me, “If I had kept it, it wouldn’t have helped me relax some other day – I don’t want to make it precious”. The unspoken sentence hung in the air - I don’t want to lose it, and since I will, why keep it?

 

With all number-exchanging mood dead, I stepped off the bus, bidding her goodbye with an odd-because-awed smile. A friend of mine had been waiting for me. I walked with him to the gadget store I had set off for, but I realized I wasn’t with him. My mind was still perplexed, or bemused would be the word to use. It was an mp3 player I had come here for. And now suddenly, the desire came down crashing in front of my eyes. I didn’t want it now. My mate tried talking me out of it, but I had made up my mind. A coffee and some snacks later, the sun was running down, with a moon climbing up. It was time to leave. But before we did, he couldn’t help but ask, “what’s wrong with you man? Silent and all-confused? Didn’t even do what you’d spanned the entire city for? What happened?”

I don’t know where the answer came from, but before we parted, I calmly whispered – “I didn’t want to make it precious” Good night. Sweet…..nah don’t dream too much!!

A Happy World

A true vision of a happy world.....

A Happy World

 

I was living when this happened

I saw a world with great beauty

The beauty that reflects from the depths

It was so pure , like golden honey

not a semblance, just the truth

 

People talked to me, oh yes, they did

with an affection unseen till then

There was melody in every word

the melody of promise and trust

like he chirp of a morning bird

 

Trees found home in the wild

and not in pots of earthen clay

Everyone cared for mother nature

lush green rooted with brown shades

like the end of a long venture

 

There were no races, no black and white

No one was poor, all satisfied

It was the beginning of eternal joy

I was living when this happened

Sadly though, I woke up then

Teri Tasveer

Tasveer teri dil meraa bahlaa na sakegi  

ye teri tarah mujh se to sharmaa na sakegi

Main baat karungaa to ye Khaamosh rahegi 

Seene se lagaa lungaa to ye kuchh na kahegi  

aaraam vo kyaa degi jo tadpaa na sakegi 

Ye aankhen hain Thahri hueen chanchal vo nigaahen  

ye haath hain sahme hue aur mast vo baahen  

parchhaaee to insaan ke kaam aa na sakegi

In honthon ko "Faiyyaz" main kuch de na sakunga  

is zulf ko main haath mein bhi le na sakunga  

uljhi hui raaton ko ye suljha na sakegi...

Faiyaz Hashmi

The Venom of Life

I believe this here is my very first poem. I wrote it when i was 15, and had just failed an examination. Since then, there have been many poems, worthier poems that i've weaved, personally perceived. but The Venom of Life still holds special regard in some obliviated corner of my heart. 

The Venom of Life

 

I taste the venom of life

I realize that I am lonely

I look behind for my comrades

But I find nothing but darkness

 

I live with the ashes of the past

Ashes that once formed my reality

Now I wish to turn back time

But how can I escape beyond fate

 

My eyes venture for sympathy

But they don’t even find tears

They have been thirsty for years

And shed nothing but blood

 

It's been a long journey

And still I see no end

It's been ages since I am travelling

And earmarked as a mere traveller

 

There are traces of destiny on my palm

I hover over them for signs

Signs that could show me the way

Signs that could tell me where I am

 

I try to touch my soul

And snatch it from me myself

For then I accept Death in hope

That there's something better than Life

The Strangeness of things

A poem inspired by a question "why do all good things come to an end?"

this isnt exactly the answer. can there ever be one? very doubtful. khair, continue.

 

The Strangeness of things

 

To the familiar strangeness of things

I cry, I mourn, I plead as they bleed

Stirred again are the crusts of a creed

 

As another struggle for new allies follows

I succumb to the parting of older ones

Neither is this subtle, nor is that

What is, though, that I ponder never once

 

I never think, why my scorched trust

Rises from the ashes of itself, again

And like the phoenix, flies to higher perches

Till the last remains, the bough of heaven

 

All good things end, for the better to come

Or so do we think, or so is defined loss

With hope sweetening the taste of the truth

& Tears cleansing away their own cause

 

To the familiar strangeness of things

I cry, I mourn, I plead as they bleed

Stirred again are the crusts of a creed

No Questions

This was written during a rather stressful period of mine. let's see how you take it.

No Questions?

I was born, unseen, unheard of
The world moved on without stopping
No one knew I had come
And those few who knew, never cared

I grew up in my own world
Of real dreams and dreamy realities
Trodden down by a cold world
My tenderness froze to death

I was made to follow others
Driven by need, driven by insanity
Lonely I stood, never understood
Like a burning candle in sunlight

I smiled, I cried, no one saw
I worked, I tried, no one saw
I failed the expectations of everyone
They saw it, but not me

Now that I'm dead, all alone
I wonder whether I was ever in company
Was I needed, there are no answers
Simply because, there are no questions...