Tag Archives: loss

Is it Time?

‘I believe in good’,

that was the past.

Is it time to make a change?

Do I rue the past for what it was?

Do I see in the ashes a flame?

Or is it a negative still

that shows false colours to me?

Black, blue and green

Is the world truly a better place

Than the lens lets me see?


Questions, questions,

useless rhymes.

Floating petals,

littered far.

Lick , lick the ragged fragment of sweetness

and make ashes ever more.

The dust that raised the grain of trust

will be dust and nothing more.


The autumn hues of sadness burst

and leave in place a taste

of molten gold, of coffee burnt,

of just another name.

3.50pm. 12/12/2011

‘And…’ A dedication to Prof. Kausar Bashir Ahmad

Dedicated to my late father, Prof. Kausar Bashir Ahmad – a visionary, educationist, architect, artist, poet and gentle soul who left us for his eternal abode on this day, five years ago. May Allah grant him the highest of places in Heaven and bless him in every way.

For more on his life and work, please visit: http://kausarba.wordpress.com

And it will be November again.

The evening chill reminds me

That I have but little time

Before the shadows of the past bestir me

And take me on that incline

Where progress is slow.


And it will be November again,

When dark corridors take on meanings anew,

When footsteps dwell in places small

And life begins to ebb and stall.

Bitter sweet, sour,

I dream of the summer sky instead.


And it will be November again,

When the eyes will search and rue – .

A life fulfilled, the bonds outcast

And the Earth out spins what’s due.

Yet that not there will be untold

And November, Daddy, will stretch again.



8:00 P.M

Sunday, 25th October 2009

To Farah

If joy could fill a tear

your tinkling laughter

would shatter the cloudy cocoon above

and be radiant in cat’s eyes.


Aspirations unknown

between the patterned mosaic

of life that ebbed

before the tide at dawn.


The heart not healed

but meant to heal

the ripples of a shadowed moonlit bed

of promising buds.


Rest in peace cherub

of the twinkling eyes.

Your oyster shell

remains unopened.

02/07/2011 Dedicated to my student Farah Sadia who passed away today at dawn.  May Allah bless her and give strength to all her family members and friends to bear with the loss.

N.B. The name Farah ‘joy’ or ‘happiness’. She was a good student, the proud owner of nearly 20 cats and a cherished friend for those who knew her. May her soul rest in peace.

The Fifth Day of Power Failure


Ramazan in the eyes of a four year old:

oozing jalebis, tangy samosas and chilled red blood,

that he likes and doesn’t.

Call of the muezzin; the call for lights off

and such sweetness are memories made of…


Shadows that lengthen.

The scenes fade away.

And all that remain are the spoils of that day.


Gathering dust, storm clouds flit to the north.

Barren rocks do not empty bellies fill but

will lightning leave its stormy drill?

The earth has treasures and so does the sky…


Leg shackled to the pole of power

will he look up or down?

That clot, that blot, that mortal wretch

who fifth day of loss with tearless eyes

faces the winds of change.


The lights go off in those selfless eyes

and he stands with shoulders bent.

The burden of a fiery spirit

chained in bliss of solitude

that has never led the feet astray.

He stays where chained,

he stays where put.

The rubber burns, the smoke rises,

the chains fall down,

he …


Where is he?


10:00 pm



To Zenia

When from the rosy cheeks of morn
sunlight beams in heaven’s eyes,
I think, I pray, with all my might
that the earth beneath my feet
glowing with the warm blush of youth
makes you feel all I want to say
of love, of innocence and friendship deep.

When the tints from twilight burn
like hot tears onto feverish skin,
I know that what I feel within
is duskier than my living dust
and heavier than your spirit free.

When darkness drifts in grassy plots,
the carefree skip along
till in the gloom they trip and fall; their petals plucked away,

Flowers no more to be.

(This poem, written in 2003 is dedicated to the memory of a childhood friend “Zenia’ who passed away in a fatal road accident in Karachi, Pakistan.)

11.45 A.M