CURSE

I enter Nizamuddin
and exit through Select City Walk
Somewhere between Old and New Delhi
I wish for Kashmir.
The overburdened soul of this city
Where motors creep endlessly
Through its veins
I am an itch
That crawls through the skin of this city.
I imagine every chai a kehwa
A Nun Chai
But the thirst for Kashmir never ends.
I meet people
Discuss Politics
Culture, whatever is left of it
But Kashmir hangs perpetually -
An icicle in my frozen memory,
Like a curse.
Finally, I fly over Himalayas back to
Kashmir
I scratch the barbed skin of my country
To find its wounded soul
The curse is not lifted

I am perpetually cursed
To find Kashmir in Kashmir. 

BILDUNGSROMAN

Her soul was written
All over her body
My illiterate fingers
Read her without punctuation
I have pushed the skin away
My fingertips drip words

RX

You have a canker
In your heart
The metastasis of memories
Has increased
You may experience
Diziness in your art
Your poems may cry in pain
And
You cannot smoke love -
Otherwise
You are fine

EMBRACE

I love your every dress
Because they do
What I wish to do

AZAAB

Usne kaha tha
Jab bhi udaas rahungi
Tumhe yaad karungi.
Usko buht khush dekh kr
Azaab mein agaya hoon

DEATH BY WATER

You can still see Her
Torn Dupatta waving
Like a holy thread
By Amira Kadal bridge, where
She jumped off
And you can still hear His cry
In the iron railings of that bridge
Whenever buses move
Rattling like the cries of Azaadi.

Or were they pushed off
At gun points by armed people?

Jehlum knows all our secrets.

We Kashmiris have our name
Written in water but
Like Sohni.
We all travel in our pitchers.
If we don't drown in Jehlum
It will drown us.

At the back of our minds
We always hear water dripping,
Drowning us.
Somewhere
Our children drown
In the waters of their blood.
Somewhere our Poet
Will be drowning in the
Waters of ink.

Who pushes us in and out of our veins?

Whatever we do
At some point Chenab will always
Kiss Jehlum.
However we die, it will always
Be by water. We always drown.
We always die as lovers.

NOVICE

When I lost my precious smilie of hope
Ideas were arrested like political prisoners
Words curfewed
I finally cried out to God
"Teach me poetry,
What is metaphor?
Teach me God, I have lost it all"

My sullen God replied
With a violent deluge
That took away my home.
I cried out again
"Teach me what is this? "

Deluge, my child
Is poetry
And Home -
Home is the metaphor you seek

GEET

Aaja jaldi sey
Mai tujhe apni nayi nazm kay
Bantey bigadtey,
Maani bemaani,
Kuch lafzoun kay darmiyan chupa loon.
Phir jab ye nazm mukammal hojaye
Iska husn tujhsa hojaye
Mai ye nazm kagaz pe
Na likhun
Balki ise zahan se utar kar
Dil mein basa loon
Taki jab tu
Saari duniya sey chup kar
Mere seene pey sar rakhey
Mera dil isey dhadkanu pe gaaye
Aur Tu sunte sunte sau jaye

TO HIS COY MISTRESS

You shy away from everything
Gentle touches and passionate kisses
Garland of arms
And nooses of suicide
Loving yourself
And hating society

Next time you come
I will recite Neruda
Like the voice from holy minarets
I will sprinkle Bukowski
Like holy water
I will read Sade
Like holy books
I will marry
Sane and insane
Sacred and profane
Fuck and love

Next time you come
I will touch you
Like autum
And disrobe you
Of leaves Of shame
And when you will tremble
Under my wintry breaths
I will embrace you
Like spring

DIL KA MAUSAM

Shouq tumhare husn ki baarish mein bheegne ka
Darr tumhare hijr kay sailab mein dhoobney ka bhi 

Dil ka mausam bhi aaj kal Kashmir jaisa hai