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Interests and Hobbies

• Watching Cricket and Hockey

•  Listening Gurbani

• Reading and Writing Poems

• Playing Table Tennis, Snooker and Squash

• Reading philosophies

• Collecting pewters 

Recent Poems

This is my most recent poem.

Besides this following are some other compositions:

Pine for Love

Don't carve my name on temple walls

Don't scar time polished stones

Would you mar ancient monuments

To prove your love for me?

Don't etch my name on tree trunks till

tears of sap, trickle on weathered bark

Would you lance innocent hearts

To prove your love for me?

Don't teach the green winged parrot

the monotonous repetition of my name.

Would you cage a free flying bird

To prove your love for me?

If you have to, please etch my name

in the shrine of your heart and

let it remain thus engraved

in the only place it ought to be.

India has had many great poets and shayars. To name a few whom I have admired are Guru Gobind Singh, Mirza Ghalib, Dr.Mohd. Alamah Iqbal, Bullah Shah, Waris Shah, Bhai Vir Singh.

 Guru Gobind Singh (17th century), legendary saint, soldier and poet was a prolific writer. He spent his youth in studying Sanskrit, Persian and other Indian scriptures. Guru Gobind Singh compiled the final version of the Adi Granth. His own writings were collected by his disciple Mani Singh thirty years after his demise.The compilation, comprising over two thousand hymns, is known as the Dasm Granth-the Granth of the tenth Guru. His ballad, Chandi Di Var (Ode to the Divine Sword), is a unique composition in Punjabi. Neither before nor after it, has martial poetry of such a fine calibre been produced in the language. Chandi Di Var is the dual vehicle of spirituality and heroism. It also epitomised Punjabi identity and in a wider context, the Indian ethos. The Guru had risen against Mughal oppression, and felt the need for an image that could stimulate the entire nation which the var (martial ode) answered. It occupies a special niche in the tradition of martial poetry, because of its allegorical nature and archetypal expression. The Sikh soldiery is said to recite this var before attacking the enemy.


Waris Shah (c. 1736-90) was a consummate artiste, deeply learned in Islamic and Indian lore. His verse is a treasure-trove of Punjabi phrases, idioms and sayings. His minute and realistic depiction of each detail of Punjabi life remains unique. Of all his works, his version of the legendary romance of Heer is the most outstanding. Heer Waris Shah (or The Romance of Heer Ranjha) is believed to be based on the true account of two star-crossed lovers, who lived during the times of Mughal Emperor Akbar. It is also said that Waris Shah sublimated his own unrequited love for a girl in writing the romance. The amazing poetic mould that he worked within has not been bettered by any of his successors to date. Waris Shah's mausoleum in Pakistan is today a pilgrimage site, especially for those in love.


Bhai Vir Singh (1872-1957), Sikh writer and theologian who was chiefly responsible for raising the Punjabi language to a literary level never before attained.
He wrote at a time when Sikh religion and politics and the Punjabi language were under such strong attack by the English that the Sikhs had begun to doubt the value of their way of life. With his versatile pen, he extolled Sikh courage, philosophy, and ideals, gathering respect for the Punjabi language as a literary vehicle. The core of his philosophy is that man must overcome his pride or ego before he can realize God. Once the battle of self is won, man can then know God in all of his manifestations.
 He used poetical and literary forms never before known to Punjabi, such as short metre and blank verse. His poem "The Vigil" was published posthumously. The Punjab University recognized his contribution by awarding him an honorary doctorate.
 

Mirza Ghalib (AD 17), known to be the godfather of self realization through poetry, wrote poems as though writing for his love. But actually he was in search of God through his writings. Each phrase of his writings jumps out of the pages to reveal the conviction he had for searching  thee.

A few of my favourite shers (which i could understand out of his rich "deewan")

kisi ko deke dil koi nava sanj-e-fugnan kyon ho
na ho jab dil hi seene mein to phir mooh mein zaban kyon ho
wafa kaisi kahan ka ishq jab sar phodna tehraa
to phir ai sang-e-dil tera hi sang-e-aastaN kyon ho


phir kuch is dil ko bequaraai hai
seena zoya-e-zakhm-e-karee hai [zoya-e-zakhm-e-karee = searching for deep wound]
phir usi bewafa pe marte hain
phir wahi zindagi hamari hai


zikr us parivash ka or phir bayan apna
ban gaya rakeeb aakhir jo tha raazdaN apna


finally remebering him in his own wordings

na tha kuch to khuda tha kuch na hota to khuda hota
duboyaa mujhko hone ne na hota mein to kya hota
hui muddat ke GAHLIB mar gaya par yaad aata hai
wo har ek baat pe kehna ke yun hota to kya hota

my tributes to great shaayar :

hain aur bhi duniyaan mein sukhanwar bahut acchay
kehte hain ke ghaalib ka hai andaaz-e-bayaan aur.

Bullah Shah -This legendary writer is best known for his following charismatic composition.

WHO AM I?

This is one of the most famous of BulIeh Shah's kafis. In his quest for the nature of his self, it has a special place. Our philosophers and poets have often asked, "As a man, where have I come from, and where am I going?" But, it has rarely been asked, "Who is this 'I' who comes and goes?"
In answer to the question "Who am I?" Bullah says that he does not belong to any particular group or class. He is neither a pious worshipper and a believer, nor is he a member of the group of profligates. He is not committed to the Vedas nor to any other holy book. He is neither fully awake, nor fully asleep. He is neither affected by joy, nor by sorrow. He is neither among the wicked, nor among the virtuous. All these are contingent facts, dependent on something; but his essence is necessary, independent of everything.
He goes on to say that he is neither made of water nor of earth, neither of fire nor of air. He belongs neither to one country nor to another, neither to this religion nor to that. In fact, in regard to religion, he does not believe in its institutional and organized form. All the material elements of which man is made are perishable, but his essence is everlasting.
It is only in the last stanza that we get a clue as to what he really is, and from what source he comes. His reality is neither his body nor his mind, but his soul. The individual, shorn of all coverings, is left with only the soul as its essence. The soul is immortal, and is not subject to the laws of time and space. It is free from the constraints of birth and death, of growth and decay. It is a spark of the Absolute, and will ultimately merge back into Him. It is in this sense that Bulleh Shah claims that he is the beginning as well as the end, and that he recognizes none except the One Lord.

Bullah kih janan main kaun?

0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?

I am not among believers seen in mosques;
Nor am I versed in the traditions of unbelief.
I am not among the pious, nor among the sinful;
I am neither Moses, nor am I a Pharaoh.
0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?

I am not in the Vedas, nor in the holy books;'
I am not among hemp-eaters or wine-drinkers;
I am not among profligates, nor among libertines.
I am neither among the awake, nor among the sleeping.
0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?

I am impervious to joy as well as sorrow;
I am not among the virtuous, nor among the wicked;
I am neither of water, nor of earth;
I am neither of fire, nor of air.
0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?

I am not from Arabia, nor from Lahore;
I am not from India, nor from Nagore.
I am not a Hindu, nor a Muslim from Peshawar.
Nor do I reside in the city of Nadaun.
0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?

I have not solved the mystery of religion;
Nor am I a progeny of Adam and Eve;
Nor have I a specific name of my own;

I am neither among the settled, nor among the roaming.
0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?

I take myself to be the beginning and the end;
I do not recognize any one else.
There is no one who is wiser than I.
0 Bullah, who is the Lord standing there?

0 Bullah, what do I know who I am?
 

After `Ghalib' had left the world and signed his name on the chair of poetry, few believed that there would ever be another poet of his level again. When the sun went down for Urdu poetry for a while, it rose in a small city, many miles away from Delhi, the center for Urdu poetry then. Born on February 22, 1873 in Sialkot Iqbal started a revolution, with which ushered a new era in Urdu poetry. We count Iqbal for inheriting the throne after `Ghalib'. A small fire was lit in the age of darkness and will keep shining as long as the world will last.
The facts of Iqbal's life can be briefly stated. He finished his early education in Sialkot and migrated to Lahore in 1895 for higher studies. In Sialkot he was lucky to have as his teacher Shamsul-Ulema Mir Hasan, a great Oriental scholar. This great man did not take long to recognize the perspicacity of his young pupil's intellect, and encouraged him in every possible way. At Lahore, Iqbal came under the influence of Sir Thomas Arnold. Sir Thomas Arnold's company introduced him to all that is best and most noble in Western thought, and at the same time initiated him into the modern methods of criticism. Iqbal graduated from the Government College, Lahore , in 1897, with English Literature, Philosophy and Arabic. In 1899, Iqbal took his M.A. degree in Philosophy. As advised by Sir Thomas Arnold, Iqbal went to Europe for higher studies in 1905 and got his Doctorate in Philosophy from Munich University in 1908 . Iqbal also qualified for the Bar in this interim. The Governor of Punjab, impressed by Iqbal's poem on the death of Queen Victoria, conferred knighthood upon him in 1922.
In Europe, Iqbal began to see the larger horizon of things and to move in spacious realms. He stayed there for three years, and these years played a great part in the development of his thought. It was not a period of deeds but one of preparation. His outlook on life underwent two important changes about this time: he got a n utter dislike for narrow and selfish nationalism which was the root cause of most political troubles in Europe, and his admiration for a life of action and struggle became more pronounced.

One simply cannot set a definition on Iqbal, as he was able to convert everything in poetry. There is no subject he hasn't debated upon in his poetry: Politics, life, love, religion, philosophy, literature, West, East, countries, legends, history, etc. The list is longer as one goes deeper and deeper in Iqbal's poetry - not least discovering that Iqbal beheld the true meaning of poetry, whereas his ambitions and abilities to move the masses were yet still indiscussable subjects. There was never any doubt why he got the title: "Shayer-e-Mashrik" - the Poet of the East.

To the Indian nationalist he appears a fervent nationalist who wrote, `Of all the countries in the world, the best is our Hindustan' (sarey jahan se achcha Hindustan hamara), exhorted Hindus and Muslims to come together, build new shrines where they could worship together and who regarded every speck of dust of his country as divine. Iqbal exhorted the peasantry to rise against its oppressors, uproot the mansions of the rich and set fire to crops which did not provide sustenance for them.

It could be said that Iqbal sang in many voices: he was a nationalist as well as an internationalist, a Marxist revolutionary as well as a supporter of traditional Muslim values and a pan-Islamist. Whatever he wrote was born of passion and executed with the skill of a master craftsman. Few poets of the world have been able to cram so much erudition and philosophy in verse; and fewer still use words both as colors on an artist's palette to paint pictures as well as deploy them as notes of a lute to create music. He was fired by a creative zeal which could only be explained as divinely inspired. Three years in Europe (1905-1908) brought about a complete reversal in his beliefs. The world became real; life had a purpose to serve; latent in every man was a superman who could be roused to his full height by ceaseless striving to create a better world. This post-European phase has been designed as Iqbal's philosophy of khudi. As used by Iqbal what comes closest to khudi is assertive will-power imbued with moral values. This is apparent from these oft-quoted lines:

Endow your will with such power
That at every turn of fate it so be
That God Himself asks of His slave
'What is it that pleases thee?'

What exactly did Iqbal want human beings to strive for? Obviously towards some kind of perfection. But he does not care to spell it out in any detail. It would appear that for man ceaseless striving was not to be for material gains in this world or with an eye on rewards in life hereafter. Thus to Iqbal a man who inherits wealth without having striven for it is worse than a beggar, while a poor man who works for the good of humanity is truly rich. Iqbal writes:

In man's crusade of life these weapons has he:
Conviction that his cause is just;
Resolution to strive till eternity;
Compassion that embraces all humanity.

However, Iqbal did not accept the Hindu belief in predestination and assured man that he could be the master of his fate and make the world what he wanted it to be:
'Tis how we act that makes our lives; We can make it heaven, we can make it hell. In the clay of which we are made Neither light nor darkness (of evil) dwells.

Iqbal would have had little patience with the current obsession with meditation (transcendental or otherwise) to induce peace of mind, because he believed that anything worthwhile only came out of a ceaselessly agitated mind:

May God bring a storm in your life;
The sea of your life is placid, its waves devoid of tumult.

In the introduction to his Persian work, Asrar-i-khudi ('Secrets of the Self'), Iqbal writes: 'Personality is a state of tension and can continue only if the state is maintained.' What was true of the individual Iqbal believed to be equally true of races and communities. According to him the real sign of vitality in races is that their fortunes change everyday:

In every age this alone marks a vibrant race
That every morn and eve its fortunes change.

So far as Iqbal was concerned, from now onwards there was complete accord in his thought, the goal was clear and the future lines for his work were well-defined. The task that Iqbal had set himself was gigantic and lesser people would have quailed at the immensity of the mission which involved shaking millions of people out of moral inertia that had been paralyzing their spirits for centuries. He flung a challenge to the forces of reaction, inertia, and stupor in unmistakable terms, and never faltered in his mission.

Think of thy country, O thoughtless! Trouble is brewing,
In heavens there are designs for thy ruin.
See that which is happening and that which is to happen,
What is there in the stories of olden times?
If you fail to understand this, you will be exterminated, O people of India!
Even your story will not be preserved in the annals of the world!

It is ironic how beautifully these words apply to every Indian today and tomorrow. There is no doubt that Iqbal fought for freedom with his words: a freedom that started with self-realization and finished with ceaseless striving.
'


A few of his well known compositions which I want to share with you are:

A mother's dream

As I slept one night I saw this dream
Which further increased my vexation

I dreamt I was going somewhere on the way
Dark it was and impossible to find the way

Trembling all over with fear I was
Difficult to take even a step with fear was

With some courage as I forward moved
I saw some boys as lined in nice array

Dressed in emerald-like raiment they were
Carrying lighted lamps in their hands they were

They were going quietly behind each other
No one knew where they were to go

Involved in this thought was I
When in this troupe my son saw I

He was walking at the back, and was not walking fast
The lamp he had in his hand was not lighted

Recognizing him I said "O My dear!
Where have you come leaving me there?

Restless due to separation I am
Weeping every day for ever I am

You did not care even a little for me
What loyalty you showed, you left me"!

As the child saw the distress in me
He replied thus, turning around to me

"The separation from me makes you cry
Not least little good does this to me"

He remained quiet for a while after talking
Showing me the lamp then he started talking

"Do you understand what happened to this?
Your tears have extinguished this


A Cow and a Goat

There was a verdant pasture somewhere
Whose land was the very picture of beauty

How can the beauty of that elegance be described
Brooks of sparkling water were running on every side

Many were the pomegranate trees
And so were the shady peepul trees

Cool breeze flowed everywhere
Birds were singing everywhere

A goat arrived at a brook's bank from somewhere
It came browsing from somewhere in the nearby land

As she stopped and looked around
She noticed a cow standing by

The goat first presented her compliments to the cow
Then respectfully started this conversation

"How are you! Madam Cow"?
The cow replied, "Not too well

"My life is a mere existence
My life is a complete agony

My life is in danger, what can I say?
My luck is bad, what can I say?

I am surprised at the state of affairs
I am cursing the evil people

The poor ones like us are powerless
Misfortunes surround the ones like us

None should nicely deal with Man
May God protect us from Man!

He murmurs if my milk declines
He sells me if my weight declines

He subdues us with cleverness!
Alluring, he always subjugates us!

I nurse his children with milk
I give them new life with milk

My goodness is repaid with evil
My prayer to God is for mercy!"

Having heard the cow's story like this
The goat replied, "This complaint is unjust

Though truth is always bitter
I shall speak what is fair

This pasture, and this cool breeze
This green grass and this shade

Such comforts, were beyond our lot!
They were a far cry for us speechless poor!

We owe these pleasures to Man
We owe all our happiness to Man

We derive all our prosperity from him
What is better for us, freedom or bondage to him?

Hundreds of dangers lurk in the wilderness
May God protect us from the wilderness!

We are heavily indebted to him
Unjust is our complaint against him

If you appreciate the life's comforts
You would never complain against Man"

Hearing all this the cow felt embarrassed
She was sorry for complaining against Man

She mused over the good and the bad
And thoughtfully she said this

"Small though is the body of the goat
Convincing is the advice of the goat!"