POEMT: ...Worth Having

Love of Knowledge,
and Knowledge of Love:
those are the only two things
worth having.

- owais

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POEM_: Ab thak chala hoon main / अब थक चला हूँ मैं

Ab thak chala hoon main
mere maalik
apni maangon se, aur
teri daya se.

Ab agar tujhe
kuch dena hai to bas…
ya de mujhe
apna pyaar
ya de
itna sabr
ki mujhe
koi chahat
hi na rahe.

- owais

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अब थक चला हूँ मैं
मेरे मालिक
अपनी माँगों से, और
तेरी दया से ।

अब अगर तुझे
कुछ देना है तो बस…
या दे मुझे
अपना प्यार
या दे
इतना सब्र
कि मुझे
कोई चाहत
ही न रहे ।


- उवैस

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POEM_: Doctrinaire Mindfulness?

Is it merely that
I am a little brat
inside this middle-aged exterior,
a little fool
who never grew up,
who will not accept
any authority?
Or is it that,
I am a mindful enough
human being
who rejects, being directed
by a doctrine,
no matter which?

Why do I reject
the demand of doctrinaire Islam,
which asks me to keep
a beard-length, of a fist and a half,
and condemn, some tasteless
cartoons, printed
half the world away?

Or of doctrinaire Nationalism,
that asks me to watch
a mindless game of cricket, and find it
more important
than the suffering
all around me?

And equally, the demand of doctrinaire
Mammonism, which asks me to
(shave every day, and)
find ways of exploiting
all
in order to gain more wealth,
the only acceptable end
for all,
Mammonites,
and otherwise?

- owais

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POEM_: Just OK

One day,
I figured out
that I care about
other people
more than, they care about me.
I was heart-broken. And sad.

Then,
another day,
I figured out
that these ‘other’ people
also included those
that I considered
my immediate family.
I was heart-broken.

Yet another day,
today,
I find that
I care about other people
even more than they
care about themselves.

Evidently,
the problem,
is with me.
Not with the world
(as always).
And so,
now,
I am not heart-broken,
nor sad.

Just…
…OK.

- owais

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POEM_: Aap hi badh ke karo / आप ही बढ़ के करो

Aap ke karo un ko naman ho ke na ho
Aap hi kijiyega un ko dafan ho ke na ho

Mujh se kya poochhte ho mere batan ki halat
Khar bahar bhi hain andar bhi chaman ho ke na ho

Jis ja baithoon main faqat tujh ko taka karta hoon
Tere jeevan se mera aaj gaman ho ke na ho

Tujh se milne ko chaloon saath mein kuch to rakh loon
Jaan bhi nikle to tere paas kafan ho ke na ho

- owais

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आप ही बढ़ के करो उन को नमन हो के न हो
आप ही कीजियेगा उन को दफ़न हो के न हो ।

मुझ से क्या पूछते हो मेरे बतन की हालत
ख़ार बाहर भी हैं अन्दर भी चमन हो के न हो ।

जिस जा बैठूं मैं फ़क़त तुझ को तका करता हूँ
तेरे जीवन से मेरा आज गमन हो के न हो ।

तुझ से मिलने को चलूँ साथ में कुछ तो रख लूँ
जाँ भी निकले तो तेरे पास कफ़न हो के न हो ।

- उवैस

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POEM_: Kiska main? / किसका मैं?

Mera apna
hai kya? Tum they
ya shayad
nahin they mere…
…par ab to
yakinan nahin ho.

Aur jisko bhi
jab bhi
main ne kaha apna-
usne khud,
ya kisi aur ne
mujhe yaad dilaya
…ki na mera koi,
na kuchh hai…
na main kisi ka.

Jis se
cheezen bhi door bhagen
uska hai kya
usoolon ke siva?

To phir
tum hi kaho
main unhen bhi
kaise chhod doon?

- owais

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मेरा अपना
है क्या? तुम थे
या शायद
नहीं थे मेरे…
…पर अब तो
यकीनन नहीं हो।

और जिसको भी
जब भी
मैं ने कहा अपना-
उसने ख़ुद,
या किसी और ने
मुझे याद दिलाया
…कि न मेरा कोई,
न कुछ है…
न मैं किसी का.

जिस से
चीज़ें भी दूर भागें
उसका है क्या
उसूलों के सिवा?

तो फिर
तुम ही कहो
मैं उन्हें भी
कैसे छोड़ दूं?

- उवैस

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POEM_: One Must…

…repair one’s own shoes,
not demand
that the planet be covered
with leather.

So said,
a Dalai Lama.
But, why is it,
that for me, my desires
are no less than
sacro-sanct?

Why is it
‘My Way,
Or No Way’?

Have I read
too much of Ayn Rand?
Or is it that
in this age of Mammon,
we are all brats,
never men?
Those, that have the courage
to fight their fiercest rival,
their own Self?

- owais

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POEM_: I and My Desire

I, and my desire
we often talk –
each claiming to be
greater than the other.

The never-ending debate,
always inconclusive,
makes us experiment –
with each-other...

Sometimes,
I give in, to ‘him’.
And he, the
ever-unappeasable brat
inflating his expectations,
always,
never even thanks me
for accommodating him;
he squeezes me,
till I give up, in exasperation.

At other times,
I dam him up –
“Control him!”, I command myself…
…with only one result:
each passing moment,
makes him stronger, and he,
one day, breaches the dam.

Always winning,
he has the classical
dilemma, of a virus:
Kill the host,
and you die with it.
Thus, my weakness
in turn, weakens him –
and I win.
For a while,
I can live a sane,
rational life.
But only, for a while…

So,
where does this leave us?
Does this stale-mate,
have a better ending?

Happily, probably, yes:
We now, have a pact –
We duel no more:
each will try, instead,
independently,
to rise, above
the other…

…

…thus, each of us
downgrades the other
from a foe, to a mere
rival. May the best
‘man’ win.

- owais

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POEM_: If I Had not Loved You So

If I had not loved you so,
your distance
when with you
would not pain me thus…

If I had not wanted
to spend every moment
of my life with you;
I would not, now,
see every moment
with you, a pain.

But if you were not meant
to test me, at my most intense,
why were you ever destined
to come into my life?
Like the zillion others,
why did you not flit in
and out, like a butter-fly:
Beautiful in,
forgotten out?

Were you here
to test the very peaks
of my passion,
the very depths
of my despair,
the very last
of my patience?

Or were you here
to bring me the knowledge
that life can best be lived
if only lived free…

…from the encumbrances
of desire…

…even,
from love?

- owais

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POEM_: An Inferno Named Desire

Put out
the flame of desire,
and I stop burning.
My suffering ends.
But,
what do I then live for?


Or else,
choose the other option:
I burn, and burn well,
like a forest fire
ravishing all that I find
in my way…?

But,
what do I then, leave in my wake?
Pain, lost life, ugliness?
And, I too
die in the end…
…with nothing left to burn.

With my temptations, my fuel gone,
the inferno of my desire,
then eats itself.
Eats me.


Which was a better life?
…and a worthier death?

- owais

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POEM_: Induced Schizophrenia

I wish you, my love
a very happy birthday.
And, many happy birthdays
to come.

Do you know, that
it has been six months
since you saw me last –
and even today,
when no one bothers,
but I,
to remember your birthday; in your eyes,
I see no spark of love, for me;
no glimmer of hope, for me,
to still believe
that we have
a future, together.

I thought,
you were the love
of my life.

Perhaps,
it is so.
But am I,
the love of your life?
(Or even,
a love in your life?)

Evidently,
it is not so.

But who will convince
my stupid heart,
my ignoramus desire?
Evidence, it seems,
counts for nothing.

Am I destined
to forever
burn for you?

Or,
can I cut away
that large part
that humongous part of me,
which does nothing
but pine for you?

Can I
induce schizophrenia?

- owais

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POEMT: Faqirana II / फ़की़राना II

Main to faqir hoon, har dar pe sada deta hoon
Jise dena ho de, saath chalna ho chale

- owais

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मैं तो फ़की़र हूँ, हर दर पे सदा देता हूँ
जिसे देना हो दे, साथ चलना हो चले

- उवैस

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POEMT: Faqirana I / फ़की़राना I

Ruka dar pe, phir badh chala
Faqir na chahe kuchh, na koi

- owais

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रुका दर पे, फिर बढ़ चला
फ़की़र न चाहे कुछ, न कोई

- उवैस

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POEM_: The Final Rainbow

If
I have to live on a rainbow,
why should it be
less than The Best?

I have had enough
of part-time lovers--
Now,
I want to make love to You,
God.

- Owais

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POEMT: I Love You

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I love You,
but permit me to do that
through Your creatures.

- Owais

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POEMT: Seeds

Desire is the seed of Misery,
Consumption, that of Poverty.

- owais

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I regard this couplet as my life's work. The first line is dedicated to the mature reader, the second, to the maturing one.
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