Poetry (English)

The Street Light

The street light flickers,
Yellow black yellow black …
The still pattern moves on
And with it, around it,
Flies and insects
Battering again and again against
The flickering lamp.
The glass; they curse it,
For it is a hurdle, a screen.

A little girl watches
From her window,
The flickering light,
Yellow black yellow black …

A young woman takes timid steps,
Afraid of the dark and night,
Gets more frightened
When someone passes by.
A dog is barking.
She tries to revise in mind
All in defence class, she had learnt,
But the tongue instead, prays.
She finds some relief in
The dog’s bark.
She smiles, he wags his tail.
The light flickers, flickers …
The dog suddenly howls,
Perhaps, is kicked.

The little girl shuts the window
And runs to her mother

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Poetry (English)

I Saw Love

I saw love sprouting in
The ocean of red fishes
Blue lilies, white wishes

Roots hiding in the water
Green leaves little, little drops
Sun casted shadow moves, never stops

Dust and dew on cliff trials
Two sets of footprints
Songs whisper slowly, echo sprints

Flowers at the graves of jasmine
Gun powder marches through air
Fear served on each plate fair

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Poetry (Hindi-Urdu)

है कौन सा

है कौन सा सुकून जो इबादत से बड़ा है
उससे ज्यादा खुश है कौन जो मस्जिद में खड़ा है

कुरआन का हर लफ्ज़ इक अनमोल तोहफा है
इससे कीमती अल्मास कहां धरती में गड़ा है

सजदे से उठा है अभी वो अब्द अल्लाह का
नमाज़ के हर निशान में कैसा नूर जड़ा है

कितना पाक ओ ताहिर कितना नेक है वो दिल
जो दूसरों के ग़म में रो बच्चे सा पड़ा है

ہی کونسا سکون جو عبادت سے بڑا ہے
اسسے زیادہ خش ہے کون جو مسجد میں کھڑا ہے

قرآن کا ہر لفظ ایک انمول تحفہ ہے
اسسے قیمتی الماس کہاں دھرتی میں گڑا ہے

سجدے سے اٹھا ہی ابھی وہ ابد اللہ کا
نماز کے ہر نشان میں کیسا نور جڑا ہے

کتنا پاک او طاہر کتنا نیک ہے وہ دل
جو دوسروں کے غم میں رو بچّی سا پڑا ہے


© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Published Works

Cot, Cups And Chair

Published in LiveWire

… At night, she heard her cousins,
Of someone they were making fun.
One boy from them mistakenly
Had touched some Shudra’s feet.
The accused little boy was sobbing,
Refusing that such he not did …

Read here

Poetry (Hindi-Urdu)

नफ़रत के सभी

नफ़रत के सभी फूल बे-मौसम ही झड़ गए
मुनफ़िक़ों के आशियाने बस कर भी उजड़ गए

हक़ बात सुनकर जो मुंह मोड़ लेते थे
सतून उनके घरों के एक-एक कर उखड़ गए

हमने तो बस ज़िक्र-ए-हश्र किया था
न जाने उनके मिज़ाज क्यों बिगड़ गए

नेमतें ख़ुदा से इतनी मिली
कि गिनने बैठे तो तारे कम पड़ गए

نفرت کے سبھی پھول بے موسم ہی جھڑ گئے
منفقوں کے آشیانے بس کر بھی اجڑ گئے

حق بات سنکر جو منہ موڑ لیتے تھے
ستون انکے گھروں کے ایک ایک کر اکھڑ گئے

ہمنے تو بس ذکرے حشر کیا تھا
نا جانے انکے مزاج کیوں بگڑ گئے

نعتیں خدا سے اتنی ملی
کی گننے بیٹھے تو تارے کم پڑ گ

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Poetry (English)

In The Mid Of This Road

I sit in the mid of this road,
I sit.

Knees hugging the chest
And arms wrapped around,
Neck bent backwards, eyes up,
I look towards the sky,
The vast spread sky,
With no beginnings no ends.
It is of the colour I like,
Blue, dark blue,
Which at times seems to be black.
I just look at it,
Gaze, blankly stare.
Keeping the thoughts from my mind,
Away, far away,
I try to count the blemished stars
And the ones shining bright.

I sit in the mid of this road,
I sit.

From the shrubbery at the sides,
Comes a beautiful voice.
The crickets I can identify,
But many others, subdued, are there,
Their share I cannot deny.
Together they are playing a tune,
A tune I love, I feel.
The tranquil music of nature,
This peace I need, I need.
In the silence are many voices,
One of them is my breath.
Now that I hear it,
I hear,
The harmonious symphony
Of my warm breaths and cool air.

This stillness, inactivity,
This state of doing nothing.
Just breathing, slowly breathing …
How heavenly it is !

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Poetry (English)

Setting Sun

Setting sun splintered into rubies and carnelians,
Splattering across the vast spread ground.
The hues seep in slowly deep down
The surface of earth,
Colouring the crevices in its colour.
Cracks filled with blood
Beneath the land expand,
Forming roots to little flowers,
Blooming beside the rail tracks.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Poetry (Hindi-Urdu)


क़ासिद किस पते पर लाएगा ख़त मेरा
मेरे घर ने मुझे बाहरी एलान कर दिया

قاصد کس پتی پر لائیگا خت میرا
میرے گھر نے مجھے باہری اعلان کر دیا

सांझ में सहर को उसने सदा दी थी ख़ता की थी
साफ़ लफ़्ज़ों में उसने ख़ामियां अपनी बता दी थी

سانجھ میں سحر کو اُسنے صدا دی تھی خطا کی تھی
صاف لفظوں میں اسنے خامیاں اپنی بتا دی تھی

ए बशर देखते हो क्या निगाह-ए-मुतजसस यूं तुम
तुम्हारा ही कफ़न तैयार तो शह-ज़ोर करते हैं

اے بشر دیکھتے ہو کیا نگاہیں متجسس یوں تم
تمہارا ہی کفن تیار تو شہ-زور کرتے ہیں

फ़क़त चाहने से होता यहां कुछ भी नहीं
न चाहते हुए भी आंसू छलक जाते हैं

فقط چاہنے سے ہوتا یہاں کچھ بھی نہیں
ن چاہتے ہوئے بھی آنسو چھلک جاتے ہیں


© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Short Prose


She moved ahead slowly, taking a step or two carefully, lest she would frighten the squirrels and they will run away. Only if she could get a little closer, but the path was covered with dry leaves. She liked it not to crush them under her feet. That voice! How can she inflict such pain on the little leaves. Dry leaves, they always attract her. While strolling here and there, in the morning, noon and evenings or even while going to or returning from somewhere, she has this habit of picking up fallen dry leaves. She would pick them up, move her fingers slowly over the patterns on the lamina, feeling it, absorbing it and then put it down carefully at the foot of some big tree. Dry leaves. Fallen dry leaves. How beautiful they are. Once lush green, they danced with the winds, rustling, swaying. Sequined with pearls, adorned with flowers, they floated high, like a queen, in the air. Now, on the ground, slimed with mud, dried and withered, they are crushed, while someone negligently steps on them to praise some newly formed bud. She hunched down, sat in the little clearing and picked up a red leaf. Her fingers were tossing it over, making random lines and circles on it, while she herself was drowning in the deep circles of memories, dark impressions which had wilted her, withered her.

She hunched down, sat in the little clearing and picked up a red leaf. She could hear them, calling her, searching her. And here she was hiding in this little clearing in the mid of these thorny bushes. She sat quietly trying to suppress her giggles, when anyone of them passed from there. There were many leaves and little wild flowers. She started playing with them, forgetting entirely that she was playing something else, while the rest of the children too forgot her, young as they were, as soon as some movie began. Her little fingers carefully picked up the yellow and red flowers from the ground and tried to fix them in the braid. She would adorn herself and would surprise everyone. With the red and yellow flowers against her swarthy skin and olive green frock she looked heavenly. Carefully she emerged out from the hiding, running zealously towards the home, excited as she was, to surprise them all. The afternoon road was quiet and sun had enveloped everything in a lazy heat. As a ripple breaks out in silent waters, she ran with little steps. Redness sprouted its branches on her angelic visage. She was a bud, half opened, about to bloom into a full flower. But suddenly the sun drowned in the darkest of waters, the yellow and red flowers fumed into black ashes, the gleam of her eyes got lost in some ghoulish hollow. The petals shattered, the bud would never bloom. Covered in olive green tatters, she crawled to reach her home, blood dripping down from between her thighs, leaving behind traces, traces of …

A tear drop fell on the little red leaf, and settled on the dry surface like a glistening pearl. A squirrel which had came very slowly near her, finding her perfectly still and lost, and was about to snatch the leaf from her hands, at the fall of the tear, got really frightened and in no time ran away from there. The hasty movements of the squirrel forced her to laugh, but the laughter only deepened her pain. The fear of the squirrel reminded her more intensely of the black day and a sudden outburst of tears wrapped her. She sobbed and cried, tears flowed freely, endlessly, but at the same time she felt a strange lightness. Something which she had not felt since. The tears had washed the little red leaf, it was dry still, but was dazzling brightly under the sun.

© Muntazir
Picture Credit

Poetry (Hindi-Urdu)

हम फ़ैज़ की नज़्में

आज़ाद वतन में आज़ादी का नारा फिर से गूंज रहा
सड़कों कूचों चौराहों पर बार इक फिर निकल हुजूम रहा
ये ज़मीं हमारा घर यहीं हम आशियां बनाएंगे
हम फ़ैज़ की नज़्में गाएंगे

है हक़ हमारा जो उसको तुम छीन नहीं हमसे सकते
वाबस्ता है जो हमसे वो कर दूर नहीं हमसे सकते
तुम ज़ोर लगा लो पूरा हम अपनी आवाज उठाएंगे
हम फ़ैज़ की नज्में गाएंगे

है ढला नहीं अब तक सूरज तुम रात नहीं ला पाओगे
तुमसे ऊपर एक गद्दी है कब तक यूं जुल्म बढ़ाओगे
हम हर एक मोड़ मकान बस्ती को शाहीन बाग़ बनाएंगे
हम फ़ैज़ की नज्में गाएंगे

آزاد وطن میں آزادی کا نعرہ پھر سے گونج رہا
سڑکوں کوچوں چوراہوں پر بار اک پھر نکل ہجوم رہا
یہ زمیں ہمارا گھر یہیں ہم آشیاں بنائینگے
ہم فیض کی نظمیں گائینگے

ہی حق ہمارا جو اسکو تم چھین نہیں ہمسے سکتے
وابستہ ہے جو ہمسے وہ کر دور نہیں ہمسے سکتے
تم زور لگالو پورا ہم اپنی آواز اٹھائینگے
ہم فیض کی نظمیں گائیںگے

ہی ڈھلا نہیں اب تک سورج تم رات نہیں لا پاؤگے
تم سے اوپر اک گدّی ہے کب تک یوں ظلم بڑھاؤگے
ہم ہر اک موڑ مکاں بستی کو شاہین باغ بنائینگے
ہما فیض کی نظمیں گاینگے

© Muntazir
Picture Credit