A Plan...

They didn't even knew that they were going to die too early. It wasn't early as compared to most lives, but in terms of gathering, it was indeed early for the joy they planned to gather. So they made a plan. Simple and simple enough. They made a plan, like everyone else did, the thought they were doing something new, like everyone else thought. They made a plan, never realizing that life wasn't worth for making plans. It was the courage, to be "up to the mark" for the terms of survival that they truly needed. But they anyhow made a plan. And the plan was to utilize most of their time. Simple and simple enough. On implementation, they realized that life was shorter for them to even ask questions. They dreaded it, they dreaded time that was too short. And now the dread wouldn't let them live, it seeped within, impregnated their beings with doubts regarding the "plan" of life. And that doubt made them ever more solitary, ever more confused. What they didn't do was to realize that they were still within plan. And that being within the plan didn't required the complexity to go through the "ways" of plan. Now that life was even more shorter to ask questions, they became silent. And that was all that took for them to breathe the breath of joy again, to sit together and say everything to each other without saying anything. Now they filled those leftover gaps with songs of silence. Now they were "up to the mark" for the rules of survival: Life never let you ask questions, it just happens...

A day off, or maybe two...

I entered the church and sat on the floor for a while,
Not knowing what i was doing,
I crossed my legs and hid my head,
For as i was longing for a day off,
Or maybe two,
I was very tired,
My soul felt already retired.

I closed my eyes for i was yearning for silence,
For i wanted every despair to flow away,
For as i wanted to step out happily,
Or maybe i wanted to stay inside forever,
As i was wanting for a day off,
Or maybe two,
From this world, from the crowd,
From the hatred and from the love,
From the people and from the nature,
From every self and even myself...

Then i heard the sound of pigeons flapping their wings,
I turned around and felt the light in my closed eyes,
And as i opened them,
Prepared as a gift for me, lying before my eyes,
Were the rows of benches,
And rows of light, rows of shadows,
Falling from the window panes,
And as i inhaled, history welcomed me,
Ancient wisdom comforted me.

For a while, i thought of staying numb for a while,
As the mere sight felt a comfort from the ruthless world,
And that smell transported me to heaven.

Being silent for a while,
The sight and the smell broke me down,
And there, lying my forehead on the floor for a while,
I cried and cried and cried,
As loud as i could,
As much as i could.

At that moment,
Dipped within the fairy tale before me,
Of the divinity the smell was pouring unto me,
I thought of dying for a while,

Empty and alone, in the church, in the middle of nowhere.

I entered the church and left the world behind,

Or maybe the world left me behind.

For as I was wanting for a day off.

Or maybe two..

Meray ghar ki chatt se itna he aasmaan dikhta hai...

Meray ghar ki chatt se itna hi aasmaan dikhta hai,
Lekin muhabbat ka saara jahaan dikhta hai,
Har charind parind ka apna he ek andaaz dikhta hai,
Woh qudrat jis ko ooper waley ne bari hi muhabbat se banaya hai,
Uss muhabbat k aqs main apney ghar ki chat se thoraa sa aasmaan dikhta hai.

Aur yoo'n nazar parti hai ik uqaab par meri,
Bohut buland jis ki parwaaz hai,
Bohut ooncha jis ko rab ne nawaza hai.

Aus yoo'n iss dil-e-nadaan main ik khayaal dorta hai,
Uss uqaab se mukhatib honay ka ji karta hai,
K ae uqaab! Kya tu mujhey sun sakta hai?
Itni oonchaai se mujh zameen wali ko dekh sakta hai?

Hawa k jhonkon main tera ajab khel,
Teray parro'n main hawaon ki sarsarahat,
Teray naazuk jism ki woh khoobsurat sakht,
Aur uss k saath gharv se phelaye huey teray par,
Yeh sab main dekh sakti hun, sun sakti hun, mehsoos kar sakti hun...

Ae Khuda, ye tu ne kya namoona bana dala hai,
Ik uqaab ko aasmaan ki bulandiyon main urna sikha dala hai.
Muhabbat ka mara hua kabhi idhar kabhi udhar woh magan hai,
Shayad tu ne ussey hum se behtar andaaz-e-muhabbat sikha dala hai.

Tabhi main ussey zameen se dekh sakti hun,
Uss ki khush qismati pe rashq kar sakti hun,
K tu ne shayad ussey muhabbat he karna sikhaya hai.

Tabhi meri pukaar sun kar bhi woh nahin sunta,
Meri bad-qismati par shayad ussey afsos hai,
Ya phir ye tera hi ik dastoor hai.
Main jissey tu ne ghor-o-fikr ka tohfa de rakha hai,
Do raastey dikha rakhey hain,
Ik imtehaan main daal rakha hai.

Ae uqaab! Shayad k tu sun sakey meri pukar,
K zameen par se tujhey koi dekh raha hai,
Teri khoobsoorti, teri khush-qismati par rashk kar raha hai,
Tu jissey khuda ney muhabbat, sirf muhabbat hi karna sikha rakha hai...

9/16/2012

Staring above my entire life...

As I stared above into the sky,

I thought of rather staring above my entire life,

Just at that moment, staring peacefully,

While lying in my "charpoy",

Were the clouds, with silver lining,

And hawks against the black sky.



As stared above into the sky,

I thought of staring above my entire life,

And it seemed a whole universe facing me,

Mighty oceans and unending horizons fascinating me,

Tiny droplets of rain, as they fell, tickling me,

The flying group of sparrowhawks teasing me.

The sunset and everything around it illuminating me.



For a moment, it all seemed an end of world to me,

The blending of colors seemed a painting to me,

For a moment, it all seemed enough to carry on within life,

For a moment, i thought of staring above my entire life...

Messed up...

It is all so messed up,

That i dont have have time to pile up,

All that is scattered,

All that is broken,

Is it me or is it just a bad time?

All i want is just stick to one thing,

As i am tired,

Of being high someday,

And low the other day.

And even if it costs me to run away from this world,

Or lock myself up in a small place,

I wont mind for as i am screwed,

My concepts too ruined.

Maybe my mind is cloudy to understand,

Or maybe I have a habit to neglect,

Maybe it is not me,

Or maybe it takes more for me to accept,

More time probably,

And that time leaves me behind,

The world goes ahead,

Maybe the world is too fast, too dizzy,

Or maybe I am too slow, too nervy,

The doubt that surrounds my world,

Or the trouble to accept,

Is probably for good,

or maybe i am too messed up...

O Pain!

O pain! You once passed through my gates,

And indeed at full pace,

I am not saying that i mind that,

i accepted it as i just only could.

But what is it that is now happening?

Please! Can i break all this down?

As within the bounds of these times,

I am in a state of great confusion,

Confusion regarding my highs and lows,

No matter how odd it might sound,

The truth is that i just cannot write that shit down.

All i do is, or all i can do is,

To cry for mercy, to beg for light!

Not knowing the cause, O pain!

A spark arises from the deepest wounds,

The wounds that leave my heaven of dreams in ruins,

My heaven that i created with so much zeal,

My heaven that i always kept hidden from everyone who could steal.

O pain! my fragile heart cannot stand these moments,

The moment of haunting, 

In which the breathing is dense,

Every muscle is tense,

The soul is longing to scream in agony,

The mind aching to run away...

O pain! You left me tethered in the middle of nowhere!

You made my being naked for my wildest nature.

O pain! I have got many complaints piled up against you!

But still there couldn't have been any better teacher like you.

Here's to the sacred truth

For all that i know, if I won't write it,
It shall vanish and I won't like it,
So, here's to the sacred truth:

It is not about your prettiness or your ugliness,
Not even about your faithfulness or unfaithfulness,
Or about your filthiness or cleanliness,

Neither about you being arrogant or down to earth,
Nor about you with your classy homes or smelly ghettos,
Nor even about your optimism or pessimism.

It is about the higher, more evident "Self"
Here's to the prisoners of the body,
Over the lines of these poems,
Shall i reveal the truth, the sacred one,
But the interpretations would be yours..

A secret of all that i know about,
It is about a deeper understanding,
Of an underlying story, of a deeper "Ego",
It is about the beating of heart and how hard it beats,
It is about the assumption and perception,
And about experience, nature and knowledge.
It is about a soul and its universe,
About a tiny raindrop in a mighty ocean..

Respect the diversity around and thus embrace yourself,
As no one gets the whole universe to fit in,
And not everyone gets the beloved desired...

LOVE_an essence of all religions.

My name is anonymous, I am from nowhere,

Beyond the time, and the worldly persuits,

Because i am who i am,Empty and joyful,

Happy and peaceful.

Love is what i seek,

Love is what i breathe!

I give up the worldly persuits for the sake of my soul,

I live the love! the laughter!

As i am the divine whole...

-Khadija Farrukh

Let us together...

And it rained until midnight tonight,

Those moments filled awe in my sight

And washed away all the mysteries,

And now the world is new,

The history is washed up, you see!

A new mystery is to start up, you see!

And with every gust of cold breeze,

A new folklore unfolds,

O hey you!

For all that i know it wont last longer,

Let us together scream till the end,

Let us together play, together in the meadows stray!

Hand in hand, let us together wade through the 'gone',

Let us together embrace the new!

Nature's first green is gold behold!

Let us together seize the glory,

Let us together gather some madness,

Let us together become wings before it all goes!

Come on you fool! come on!

Open your arms to the celebration of rain,

Stretch your very being to the revival of birth!

Oh, dont be sad for we shall mourn some other day,

And i shall be by your side that day!

But dont let the rain go wasted,

Look, just look at the beauty it offers:

Let us make a legend to be told,

Let us together become nature's gold!

The Rain

Each droplet of rain,

Makes a sound that echo pain,

And when they fall down on my terrace's grill,

Make a sound that is very shrill,

And when they land on my skin.

Each droplet to shake my aura,

Each droplet to make me feel alive!

Every droplet of the rain,

Is a diamond for them,

Who play in my street,

Under the open sky.

And every droplet of rain,

Is a tear for me.

I who sit beside my window,

Too weak to go outside..

But when i put my face out of the window,

Under the open sky,

And when my face gets washed up by the divine,

And tears flow away with water,

All I am able to reflect is:

Is it all worth living? cherishing?

And then i go restless,

I long to scream,

To break the riddle of this heart.

Oh rain! you aroused my lost, desperately burried mysteries,

O rain! you took away my carefully hidden away treasures!

The Rainy Night Of January Winters

Outside the barrier of the glass window of her room was a world, which was celebrating rebirth. The clouds were thundering and every bit of nature was washed away for renewel, for hope. She wanted to go outside in that cold night of January winters and celebate renewal of her being, but she couldn't. She was not that genetically strong. So she accepted her fate, maybe beacause she didnot want to change her being, or perhaps she had gone used to of it. But she couldn't stop the thundering of the clouds and cooing of the pigeons at the back of laundry of her home to penetrate into her world. Trying to concentrate on the silent whispers of her unknown, of her micro cosmos, of her God within her, she finally gave up and opened the window.

        She couldn't seem to response at that time, her flesh was tired, and her mind yearned to be silent, to be drowned away with the chilling wind, with the particular scent, with tiny droplets striking her face and shaking her aura, and giving her the feeling of being alive. She wanted it all. At that time, being empty, she began to cry in the middle of nowhere, all of the sudden, like a silent cry that came thousands of miles from within of the flesh and has forgotten its very cause.

        Perhaps she wanted to wade through naked nature, silent trees, sacred mountains, holy lakes, all on her own with no one around. She wanted to experience the fascinating beauty, the beauty that ancient civilizations have worshipped throughout ages, those emptiness, that wholeness.. Her little being was moved by that rainy night, by the wind, the scent, the droplets, she wandered at what was that beauty that was worth being worshipped!

        After a while, descending back from her thoughts, she realised that the droplets are no longer shaking her aura. She looked upwards, the sky was clear, with stars more in number than usual. She wanted to go outside, alone, just at that moment, the moment of awe. She wanted to carry herself through the wet street to the park near the back of her little home and to drink, drink endlessly, the very song of her, the song of her story. She wanted uplift, and to go away....

        But she couldn't, because she was surrounded by the serville bands, the bands which she wanted to free herself from. She had always been a free bird, dreamt to go to a place that was beyond the world because the place where she lived was somehow uneasy for her. Uneasy because she had never understood socialism. To her, the greatest set back of human civilization was speech. To her, language never exposed the true song of her heart. There was always something left, she never knew what it was, but it always troubled her. For her, language was like a barrier to expose her, to find her, it always promoted self-conciousness,  but she always wanted to be free, to be silent, for ages and ages...

        She had thought sometimes of dying, of escaping the world on her own, but then she started living in the beautiful valley of her thoughts, about nature, about lakes, mountains, wind, scent, rain, the divine feeling that felt like crackling her chest, making her feel divine, feel like sacred and great, and which always kept her within its pleasure, and kept her from dying...

She was always there...

She was always there. Some part of her was always in struggle. She waded through solitary forests, vast plains, crowdy places but still, she was always there, more solitary than ever. She was still there, it was like as if she was beyond the bounds of time. Her body was a clear proof of how she was bounded within the world but she was lost. For her, the concept of time was finished. It was like as if she has left her greatest mystery over there. Her only secret. And she was still into that time, lost in there... But still she walked within people, within naked nature, hiding her nakedness somewhere far away where she has left her greatest mystery. She had an impossible desire, a desire that was full of pain. She was hungry to go beyond, she wanted to fly, to break the bounds. Sky never gave the feeling of openness to her. It made her feel stuffy. Whenever she looked upwards, she screamed to fly and vigorously tear the sky, to go beyond it. She wanted to break the chronicles of times, and go back. To go back to where she had left her part, her greatest mystery. But she was going on and on, like everyone did, she cried and cried to hold it, but she was flowing away and away like a river, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. And with her she carried the hollow valley of despair within her chest and a stream of impossible beauty within her head. And she was always there, because her heart was always there! With her greatest mystery, the mystery of her little Being...

Seeketh or seekth not?

O little heart of thine,

From where have you got such mysteries for thee?

Some seeketh something,

Some seeketh not that thing,

And some say seeketh not anything!

O Buddha! How come you seeketh not?

Thy fancy that thou did seeketh within!

O yes! Thou still swayed within vacuum and battled!

Battled for peace, the eternal peace...

O little heart of thine,

What is it that you have for thee?

As when the pounding is hard within thy chest,

Thy wander at the universe and segas it walks and talks about!

What thy seeketh is, is not yet known to thee,

And what thy seeked long forgotten.

Hey wait! Does thy seeketh or seeketh not?

O insensitive dreamer, ofcourse thy does!

As in thy living is thy seeking,

And in thy cherishing is thy seeking,

And in thy hating is still thy seeking,

When thy seeketh not, thy still seeketh,

And that seeking is thy very own death!

Still, when the sun goes down,

When the dark embraces thy kingdom,

Or before sunset, at some lakeside,

All that thy is able to reflect at the dark hour is:

O little heart of thine!

From where have you got such mysteries for thee?

The mysteries that walks through unknown streets,

Whispers to thee of unknown people,

Reminds to thee of forgotten scents,

As if some long left legacy is still there to unfold.

And in the midst of it all,

Stands thee, caged within the flesh,

Still not able to comprehend:

O little heart of thine!

From where have you got such mysteries for thee?

-Khadija Farrukh