SADAQAT

Uske khwabon mein
Mai ab tak roshan hoon -
Ya kisi chand ki roshnai mein
Mai raat Kay andhere ki tarah
Chup gaya hoon -
Yeh yaqeen se nahi keh sakta
Magar uski rooh ki pakeezghi ki kasam
Uske dil ki masoomiyat ki kasam
Itna yaqeen hai mujhe ki
Apni saheli ki shaadi mein
Woh dulhan se zyada
Khoobsurat lag rahi hogi

LAMAKAAN

(For B)

Someday
We will never meet
Someday
I will walk
The footsteps of Anna
And jump off
The pages of Tolstoy
And you might wander
The genderless world of love
In Wintersonian universe
While two foolish souls
In a dilapidated building
On a godforsaken mountain
Will keep on tracing the neutral space
Where masculinity and feminity meet

KHUDAI - خدائی

Duniya Ka kadakta shor
Aur bijili si raftaar
Yak lakth khatam kardena
Buhut dushwaar hai
Magar kabhi kabhi
Kaano pe haath rakh kar
Khamoshi dekh lena
Aankhein moond kar
Andhera sun lena
Khudai se kam nahi

دنیا کا کڑکتا شور
اور بجلی سی رفتار
یک لخت ختم کردینا
بُہت دشوار ہے
مگر کبھی کبھی
کانوں پہ ہاتھ رکھ کر
خاموشی دیکھ لینا
آنکھیں موند کر
اندھیرا سن لینا
خدائی سے کم نہیں

OF RELATIONS AND UNIVERSITIES

Within the fluidity of relations
Let the currents crystallize
Brand it and install an authority
Let it make absurd demands
And issue unethical restrictions
Until nothing remains
Not even nothingness
But a formality, a habit, a tic -
This can be one among many ways
How a relationship dies
But this is the only way
An institution kills itself

KHUD KALAMI

Furqat mein
Kuch aur hota ho ya nahi
Ye zaroor hota hai -
Aadmi khud se baatein karne lagta hai -

Tou kisi roz
Agar tumne mujhe
Kisi tanha sadak pe
Apni dhun mein bhadbadate dekh liya
Tou jaan lena
Mai tumse hi hamkalaam hoon

THE ALEATORY POINT

(A NON-DELEUZIAN POEM FOR DELEUZE)

The hollowness
Death, dread and void
Pain, agony and ache
Suffering, misery and affliction
The emptiness -
Philosophy is recognizing
The empty square within life's square puzzle
Wisdom rests in reminding onself
That the emptiness remains unfulfilled
That this emptiness actually
Propels every movement within.
Art is the realization
That the square is
One among many shapes

A PHILOSOPHER SEES SRINAGAR THROUGH POETRY

THE AGE OF EUDAIMONIA
When the great ancient flood abated
Revealing symbolism behind metaphor
Satisar exposed her muddy ribs
My throbbing chest well kept
Inside a web of bridges
Running from heart to heart
They called me the 'City of Bridges'

THE AGE OF STOICISM
When the children cried for help
They fed them iron, bullets and fire
With bridges burned down
My heart gasped in smoke
Some left and endured
Some endured and left
They called me the 'City of Fire'

THE AGE OF HEDONISM
With wires growing out of my skin
Ugly malls mask my face
Copious cars crawl my plastic veins
Cement obscures my feeble heart
No one hears my frozen cries and whispers
Inside warm cafés throbbing with sound and junk
They call me the 'City of Cafés'

GNOTHI SEAUTON

(For H n A)

It all starts later
When everything has ended
Past that last call
After that orgasmic angry episode
In the later part of indifference
It all starts later -
Especially the loving -
After you ended the last call
On that lifeless depth of a tone
I have attended all your calls
That you never dialled
The dupatta that you forgot
Still hangs by the window of the room
Wagging like an unruly tongue
I had many meaningful conversations with

So this time when you come
Be warned
I may know you
More than myself

MAN AANAM (For Jeanette Winterson)

Woh Kehti hai,
Tum apne wajood Kay saaye taley
Apni hi zaat ka saibaan bicha kar
Khud usmein baithey ghum ho.
Ab usey yeh kon bataye
Ki furqat mein
Uskey lams ki khatir maine
Kitni baar
Khud apne nangey badan ko chuwa hai
Bukhaar mein taptey uskey jism ki khatir
Kitni baar uth uth kar
Maine apni nabz ko chuwa hai
Uski gehri neend ki khatir maine
Apne kitney roshan Khwaab siyah kiye hain.
Ab wasl ki na-mahroom dhoop mein
Saaya bhi wohi hai, saibaan bhi
Meri zaat, mera wajood bhi.

من آنم

وہ کہتی ہے،
تم اپنے وجود کے سائے تلے
اپنی ہی ذات کا سائبان بچھا کر
خود اس میں بیٹھے گم ہو۔
اب اسے یہ کون بتائے
کہ فرقت میں
اسکے لمس کی خاطر میں نے
کتنی بار
خود اپنے ننگے بدن کو چھوا ہے
بخار میں تپتے اسکے جسم کی خاطر
کتنی بار اُٹھ اُٹھ کر
میں نے اپنی نبض کو چھوا ہے
اسکی گہری نیند کی خاطر میں نے
اپنے کتنے روشن خواب سیاہ کئے ہیں۔
اب وصل کی نا محروم دھوپ میں
سایہ بھی وہی ہے, سائبان بھی
میری ذات, میرا وجود بھی

FOR TATHI

My Father tongue is my father's
But my Mother tongue
Is my Grandmother's
That's how twisted it is
But not for her
Kashmiri was all she knew
And wanted to know
She never understood any 'pairum'
Nor did she ever try to

I had to learn it for her
That was my connection
To her world
And to Kashmir
The language, the nation, the life
Her guttural Kashmiri speared
From Kabali attacks to Sheikh Abdullah
(Post-Abdullah, politics was all fuzzy for her
Just people with party names)
Along the vernacular terrain of her narrative
Lay marble milestones of Moi Muqadas theft
And visits to Hazratbal
Along with her female friends
With hard earned money from 'Yinder'

She mixed phrases and slangs 
Like brush strokes of Gogh 
Visible yet sublime
The obscenities from her tongue
Vibrated like a single chord
It struck music

Where she is now, they say
Arabic reigns
But I wish the divinity speaks to her
In Kashmiri and I bet
She will outwit angels
And joke about their buttock-less backs

A RESISTANCE POEM

How to write a good Kashmiri (poem):
Pick up an ordinary situation
A memory maybe
Or a day-to-day instance,
For power often resides there
Crystalize its flow
Politicise it
Install a fine oppressive metaphor
Carve an identity for yourself
And them
See in black and white
Us and them
Oppressor/Oppressed
(Never go for grey areas)
Praise the redness of blood
Cry, wail and be angry
Cry through Chinars for example
Wail Jhelum
Swag like mountains
But all this in metaphoric criticality
(A good metaphor saves you from propaganda)
When all this is done
Paint all the greys, if any
Wrap it all in good symbolism
This is essential, for if not done
Someday someone will create
A recipe out of it
And write a Resistance poem instructing you
How to write a good Kashmiri (poem)

(ANTI) LESSONS IN LOVE

It all started when
You fell in love with me
And wanted me to love you back
Under some ideatic notion,
Idealized like sun -
You were at your Platonic high
While I was busy
Wasting life
For bread, and shelter -
I was At my Proletarian low.
You seemed like an anorexic model
Out of a commercial,
A barbie
Who had fetishized relation,
Romanticized love -
I was at my Marxist high.

Now that the metaphysical hangover
Is over
I have lost you
And you have lost me
Let's love each other
Laboriously
Dangerously
Against nature
Against fate
For relations are never divine
Or natural
Nor made in heaven
They are human
All too human
You labor for them
Suffer for them
They must be made
To mean
That's the only way
And the only way
To deconstruct
The reified relations
Both of us have taken for granted

IDENTITY POLITICS

So much labour
So much toil
So much sifting
And selecting
This I
He, she
They -
So many lines
And barbed wires
Motherland
This country
And that -
So many races and colors -
So many orientations
Hetero, Homo
And Gay -
All are but
One among many categories
On a porn website
To be selected
Used and abused
By a Politician
Or Priest

WOH KEHTI THI

Woh Kehti Thi
Hum Saath Janmey Hotey Tou Kya Tha!
Mai Tumhe Haath Pakad Kar
Is Duniya Mein Laati

Woh Kehti Thi
Hum Gudda Guddi Khele Hotey Tou Kya Tha!
Unki Shaadi Racha Kar
Khud Dulha Dulhan Banjate

Woh Kehti Thi
Hum Tootey Khilono Pey Jhagdey Hotey Tou Kya Tha!
Humara Bachpan Udhaar
Ek Doosre Ka Qarzdaar Hota

Woh Kehti Thi
Hum Sang Patang Udaye Hote Tou Kya Tha!
Zindagi Khwaab Ban Kar
Azaad Udd Gayi Hoti

Woh Kehti Thi
Hum Baarishon Mein Sang Bheege Hotey Tou Kya Tha!
Kaghaz Ki Nanhi Kashti Par
Paar Utar Gaye Hotey

Woh Kehti Thi . . .
Woh Kehti Thi . . .

ANALOGY

It always happens:
Feed the pigeons
And they will shit your windows.

The crumbs of love
Eyes and tears:
It always happens

FORGETTING AND BERNOULLI'S THEOREM

How do you fall in Love? or
What do you love
When you love someone:

You love her hands

Those feathery hands

Casually hanging by your shoulder

When you experienced

The first throes of intimacy

Those little hands 

Containing the enormity of world

Those lines flowing like rivers 

The continents in-between

You could spend eternity there, or

That bright forehead 

You kissed with your fingers

And found your lips 

Hanging by the knots of her hair, and

In a mystical ascent 

Your body attained a different meaning:

Your fingertips have lips now

And your lips eyes.

We love like mountaineering
Climbing each part with courage
And dedication
For that view
At the top.

How do you forget someone? or
What do you forget
When you forget someone:
No! It doesn't happen part by part.
The mountain vanishes.
The view falls.
We miss the whole being of someone.
That someone, who was there
And now isn't.
The total absence of a presence.

That someone is now an eternal memory
Passing before you at high speed
And you're so close to it
That a feathery remembrance
Can suck you in.

HEGEMONY

Meeting you by the oceans of time
I realized
Anger
Was a mere shenanigan
You still rule my heart
With slightly different pronunciation -
What we called hɪˈdʒɛməni
You now call hɪˈɡɛməni

DON QUIXOTE OF LOVE

When love finally blessed me
And asked me to embrace the world,
The world had changed
And love was
Heart shaped neon sign
Outside shops.
It had acquired the status of
A transaction
Of Yes or No.
It circulated like TV shows
Meant to be ended in fixed time slots.
Like cheap Bollywood movies
It was commercial success.
Love was no longer
Labouring
No longer waiting.

So when you said,
I have closed the chapter,
I didn't understand.
(Trust me
You were explaining sexuality
To a two year old child)
Love for me
Was a Barthesian text
And you like Aristotle
Wanted some poetics.

Maybe I am Don Quixote of love
Waiting for my Sancho.
Till then,
Let me romance windmills.

TO MY MUSTARD YELLOW GIRL (The Last One)

Even paper boats carrying
Love
Are not meant to
Capsize

Lovers are meant to be
Stupid
Not love.

KHUSFEHMIYAN

Tumhe Choomne ki Shararat Mein
Us Nakaam Sargoshi Mein
Jo Jhumka Hila Tha...
Tumhari Saanson ki Hararat Mein
Ab Bhi Hil Raha Hoga

Tumhare Dupatte Ki Qasam
Mujhe Ab Bhi Lagta Hai
Sarfarosh Hawaein
Usey Uda Rahi Hongi
Kisi Khudaar Mulk Kay Parcham Ki Tarah

HAUNTING

Yaad Hai Woh Shaam...
Jab, Ghar Kay Liye Tumhe
Buhut Dair Hogai Thi -
Us Shaam ka Chaand
Kitna Bada Laga Tha Hume,
Khaufnaak Aur Thanda Bhi!
Yaqeen Jano,
Tumhare Jaane Kay Baad
Meri Amaawas Zindagi Mein
Wohi Chaand Aaveizan Hai

DILLI

Yeh Kab Hua
Ki Tumhara Dil
Purane aur Naye Dil Mein Bat Gaya?

Aur Kab
Tumhari Rooh Mein
Tehzeeb Se Zyada
Raaste Ki Gard Simat Aayi,
Mujhe Khabar Na Hui

Aey Dilli!
Kab Tumne
Apni Udti Zulfon Mein
Hawai Jahaz Baandh Liye
Aur Kab
Traffic Ki Qataron Ko
Apni Saanson Mein Bhar Liya,
Mujhe Khabar Na Hui

Aey Dilli!
Suna Hai Tu Beemar Bahut Hai
Kai Dino Se
Tere Dil Mein
Gubaar Bahut Hai

Tera Ilaaj Kya Hai
Mai Nahi Jaanta

Magar Mai Jaanta Hoon
Tu Dilli Hai !

Teri Shah-Rag Kay Qareeb
Ghalib Ne Nashe Mein Raqs Kiya Hai
Meer Kay Qagaz Ki Nami
Majaz Kay Toote Dil Ki Kirchiyan
Tere Jism Mein Mehfooz Hai

Tere Seene Mein
Khusroo Ki Raagein
Aur Tujh Mein Paiwast Hain
Nizamuddin Ki Qawwaliyan

Zouq Ki Yeh Galiyan
Beemar Tou Buhut Hain
Magar Murda Nahi

Tu Dilli Hai
Apne Naam Ki Tarah

TO MY MUSTARD YELLOW GIRL (II)

What if,
There are hundred other ways to love
Than you are taught
In the commercial school of love.
And what if I have loved you
In all those hundred ways
And you couldn't see.
What if lending you a book
And deliberately forgetting to take it back
(So that it sleeps in your crowded shelf
Along with your gloss and glasses)
Was one of the way.
What if you are as confused about love
As I was between Yellow and Mustard.

DUAL/DUEL (For Baudrillard and You)

Love, we can never meet.
We: the Me and the You
(Duality is the magic)
Love is a duel,
A divine Mobius strip.
Ghalib knew it -
The duel of life and death
And the being of beloved.
Let's not become one
Under some romantic mystical spell;
Let's be two as in a duel.
Let's kill each other so that we could live:
I will be Vogel, you be von Kleist.
If that's too brutal,
Let's be 23rd April
In some part of Spain.
You search a rose for me
I will search a book
And we will meet
Under dilapidated statue of Sant Jordi. 

To My Mustard Yellow Girl

A hue of lust and love
You wore it like soul
The pleats run through my skin
An emotion -
Mustard is not a color
After you

MOURNING DIARY

Someday Barthes
We will meet over a cup of tea
(coffees taste bitter after death)
Smoking your favourite
Havana cigars
Under Srinagar skies
(not Parisian)
And discuss
My Mourning Diary
That I never wrote

BAARISH

Door kahin aasman mein
Aansuon ka ped hai
Jis pe khizaan aayi hai...
Udaas dil
Kabhi Yeh bhi sochta hai

Voodoo

Rain definitely is magical:
Piercing transparent needles
In earth's body

Aaina e Zaat

Ujde baal
Sooji aankhein
Toote daant
Aaina e zaat tod diya hai
Meri tanhai
Bilkul mujh jaisi hai

UNTITLED

Sometimes
More than beloved's laugh
You need
The Shrill cry of her pain
To lessen the burden of life

Sometimes
More than futile breathing
You need
Asphyxiation
To tell you that you are alive

Sometimes
More than the loneliness of room
You need
A mad joyous crowd
To sing you your forlorn song

Sometimes
More than emptiness
You need
The softness of a woman’s bosom
To blunt the barbed lines of fate

PURSISH

Sach tou yeh hai ki
Tumhare Jane kay baad
Sab ne mujhse
Mera mizaj poocha hai,
Haal nahi!

LACK OF EVIDENCE

My heart is a crime scene:
One can still smell
The rusty blood
Of killed dreams
Murdered desires.
Because I never marked
The premises to save detritus,
Everyone walked in
As people walk into a crime scene
Changing everything
Changing nothing.
My heart is a crime scene:
Homicide now looks like suicide.