To:Sent: Tuesday, March 05, 2013 2:04 PMSubject: GreetingsDrear Riffat.Where are Khan Sahib now a days? No news from you what so ever.I think the literary activities are raising their heads all over USA and Canada. Well, I think it is about time. But I am planing to go to NY only and that is for Attiq Siddiqi’s book opening some time in Mar/Apr.Your fans from NM to NY are missing you very much. Your fan in NY Nusrit Bajji says thatRiffat is mad at her. Do you know that Joher Mir called he Nasdurat, Bajji and since than she is Bajji of NY.Zavia is under print as we speak. Your story “Adhai Raat” is included in the magazine. Also a great collection of letter between N.M Rashid and Saqi Farooqi is there too.Our next issue will be dedicted to Dr. Zahoor Awan Sahib. and after that we will be on the road. My kind friend Abdullah Javed Sahib from Canada has kindly sent me a translation of great Kafka’s short story. I am thinking to add a short article in the same issue on Kafka.Can you assist me on that. Much obliged.. Love Irshad.……………..Dear Irsad,I agree with what you are saying.Why am I mad at Nusrat Baji? really, do not understand why she said that. Do I know her?I remember one Nusrat who wrote something in Zavia, when Mir sahib was alive and I telling him that it was a very nice article.Is she the same person? Though we never were in contact, but this much I would say that she is a good writer.So Khan sahib, I have started waiting for Zavia already.The letters between these two would be an interesting read. Waiting for that too.Kafka? My word – yes – I would do that for you.Good to know about Attiq Siddiqi’s book opening. Prose? Poetry?Okay Khan sahib … thoray ko bohat janiyay.Talk to you later.Riffat.
night …
This winter night is long
Sit down beside me,
hold my cold hands in your hands.
Let me lean my head on your warm shoulder
and tell me my story.
Hidden deep in the crevices of my soul
Where there was no separation once.
I hear the time
Tip – toeing away into nothingness
Before the darkness, dropping its final curtain, prevails,
Burning embers turn to soot, I look at you
My heaven! to take the image with me.
Hold my hand and cross the night with me
this winter night!
I cannot do it alone.
March, 06/07, 2013
1:48 pm.
‘hari’ …
On a clear night, the sky is forever, far and beyond, nothing but a star studded silence. Seeing him to the door, I saw the Orion’s Belt right in the line of my vision. After his car left the drive way, I went in put on my jacket and a cap, then went out in the cold night and watched the sky … Serene and silent sky, watching me in return. The stars blinked – they only blink! Cold rocks, dead planets, they all blink. what do they care!.
I went in and listened to < man tarpat hari darshan ko aaj>
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6p_KZXB62ck
Later when waiting for the sleep a long gone time visited my sleepy mind. My father was in service, and was posted in Sialkot. Our residence was a three storied house with a distinct feature. I do not have a name for it because I do not remember. It was a kind of Sun Roof. going through all the levels – a 4’x 4′ square ‘hole’ in the roof / floor. If on the ground floor, you stood under it, you could see the sky. I don’t know why I thought of that. Sleep came slowly.
March, 05, 2013
3:15 pm.
dear day …
It is so bright and sunny today that I just want to go out and sit by the water and NOT THINK ABOUT ANYTHING. I need to go somewhere and hide from myself. No matter how much I try to discipline my thinking, I fail miserably. M.Z Iqbal, my classmate once pointed at a beggar woman and said ” we talk about contentment and happiness .. look over there, you would see that .. in person! “. At that time we thought he was so right but today, if I saw him I would tell him how wrong he was.
I read some poems. They fluster me. But no, no reading for me today. I am going to clean the mess on my desk and start all over again. I was told to do what I desired to do. This is what i desire to do today. This should be a daily business. Ask the day every morning … dear day what do you want to do today and then do it.
Stark heartlessness!!
Those poems once again – they seem to be talking to whoever is reading them. And why I have this sneaking feeling that many fluttering hearts would swoon !!
ساعتیں وِصال کی
جانے کب پلٹ گئیں
دور جاتی آہٹیں
ہوا میں دور تک گئیں
خوب تر تھی خامشی
چاہتوں کے باب میں
اُس کا ساتھ ،ساتھ تھا
روح کے مِلاپ میں
چُپ کو اوڑھ کے شب بھر
انتطار کرتی تھی
رات کے سفینے میں
بادلوں پہ چلتی تھی
آرزو کی سنگت کیا
خواہشوں کی وحشت کیا
کچھ ادھورے خوابوں کے
خواب د یکھنے میں کیا
اک کتاب چہرہ تھا
رحل دونوں ہاتھوں کی
لو اگر لرزتی ہو
کون کس کو پڑھتا ھے؟
3 مارچ 2013
چھ بجکر تین منٹ
‘ ہم نے جس طر ح سبو توڑا ھے ہم جا نتے ہیں ”
night listens …
Majlis at the Center. jaana zuroorii thha. A friend’s father in law had died yesterday.
On our way back home, the light drizzle that had met us while driving to the Center, had stopped. There was no traffic on the roads and everything looked so open and wast and beautiful under silver edged clouds, swimming in a blue haze. The Moon the glorious Moon would come out every now and then looking for some answers. I do not have any answers – a whisper I heard.
Only an hour ago I had seen her with tears in her eyes and thought about a long ago poem –
Our car was now on Lake Jesup bridge and on both sides of the bridge the lake was alive with marine life. Alligators were out cruising in the moon-lit night. I could see their eyes burning on the water..
Night is long and silent … very !
Feb, 25, 2013
11:49 pm.
tidings …
Someone in the family wanted some particular poem of Faiz Ahmad Faiz. I handed the book, nuskha hai wafa, the only book of his poetry I have here. But while looking for this I got Browning. So handed the book , and myself started reading his “Last Ride To-gather”.
I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did back in university days. Some lines suggest that he is – perhaps – dying and that is the reason he has requested a last ride.
Can I call it morbid? nah, I cannot. I take it more like a metaphor.
Words are not always what we read and think they are. They sometimes deceive – living deep inside their own shell – deep down somewhere, and not always saying the same thing. Every word a mystery! So this poem is not what I read. Once written, maybe even the Poet had no control to contain it.
Just a thought!
Feb, 15,2013
Our Sand Hill cranes are becoming demanding by the hour. Their feeder was filled in the morning and now at 1:45 pm, they are standing outside my glass door staring at me. I mean here are these two big birds looking at me without a blink even! very disconcerting !! Cannot think – brain has stopped working – have to stop writing – go out and fill the bird feeder again. Why they are so demanding?
Feb,17,2013
What are you doing? he asked.
I just had a bath and now am sitting here in the sun, drying my hair.
I am glad that ‘dhoop’ is female.
hunh? what kind of talk is that?
Feb, 19, 2013
“You should have a heart in order to feel other people’s heart.” “Flaubert” Wise guy, things never change. What was then, is now too.
Feb 22, 2013
I learned a valuable lesson.
If you want to score some points to boost your ego, to impress your listeners or whatever.. then engage the person sitting across you in a nice and polite chit chat nice sugar tasting talk, heap the praise in truck loads – no matter deserving or not – like doing it or not, just keep doing it. Just remember that you are doing this for you, yourself. You keep in focus just one thing. You are serving yourself. So being nice is just establishing you as a nice guy in the eyes of your friend across you.
Is the person totally floored by your charm? If so, then take the opportunity. Pounce on the poor gullible and bash him with your onslaught of verbal missiles. Make it so intense that the poor soul has no way of escaping the situation.
Now when you see bewilderment on his face, in his voice , a pasty smile – stop, lean back and gloat. You have scored successfully !!
Feb 23, 2013
Strange ! how one negative situation helps solve another negative situation.
Problem was or is that I had been shut out. I take myself an educated, intelligent person. I know how to hold a conversation. I love literature, read whatever I can get my hands on and I love interaction, exchange of ideas, appreciating viewpoints, all that sensible grown up people do. Talking nicely, discussing seriously, spending a few quality moments to-gather. What is wrong in that?
Gender has never been a problem for me. I just think ‘friend’ That is all. You certainly would feel affinity with some but it is never threatening in any sense of the word. But when I am not ‘let in’ on gender basis, I feel rejected, ignored, stumped.
What a horrible, horrible feeling!
Feb, 24,2013
On Saturday, we had a wonderful day at the beaches.
My brother in Sussex called. Wants me to come visit him in summer. I ‘ll see.
conversations about love ….
I am telling you. He is so handsome, so beautiful, has such engaging smile. His looks have the power to turn your knees into jelly. If he looked at you a moment longer, I swear you would die.
Okay.
Okay? just okay?
So what do you want me to do?
Nothing. Just stay away from him. If I was his age I would marry him in a heartbeat. I would wash his socks. I would make a new dish every day, and feed him and feed him until he got fat , so fat that no other girl would look in his direction. And then … he will be mine – all mine!
Loser.
What did you say?
Nothing .
that was me …
I had started writing from a very early age. They were mostly school assignments but my style and imagination would turn it into … at least not the usual, factual, dry and dull essay.This always earned me good grades. Though I still had to struggle with my Math.
I had started reading from even an earlier age. A very quiet, loner by nature, somewhat neglected child of a very social mother , I had started reading when I was four. How did it happen? I have no clue. This earned me the nickname “paRhaku”.
I was certainly a little older than four when I was given a ‘thonk’ on my ear for being caught reading ‘ Sultana Daku ‘ 🙂
We were visiting some relatives in Mochi Gate. All the elders were visiting, comparing notes, joking, laughing, sharing ‘hukka, having fun. A very fine smell of tobacco was hanging in the air and I was sitting docilely on a big bolster when my mother asked me to go play with other children. ( I loved tobacco smell – I still do. The only condition is – it has to be of good quality. Then I can sit with the person for hours, even knowing it is as bad as smoking)
I got up, strayed in the house and finally landed in the host’s library.
I was lying down on my stomach, my feet up in the air, my chin resting on the back of my hands, the book opened and supported against another heavy book resting on the carpet when suddenly the book was snatched.
“what is it?” It was my brother, forbidding – as always.
” kitab” I said.
” I can see that but what kitab? hooN, hooN.. lets see … Sultana Daku ??” his tone was too threatening.
I got up and made a beeline to the door.
” wait”. he said.
Now a brother, ten years your senior, tells you to wait then you have no other choice but to wait and be prepared for – whatever is in store for you.
” if I ever again catch you reading books, you would be sorry that you did. You only read ‘Hidayat’ and “phool” that abba has subscribed for you. That is it. Understand?”
I nodded my head and ran out of the library.
Did I stick to his “recommendations?”
You bet I didn’t.
Tuesday Feb 19,2013
12:22 am.