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For there are those of other faiths
Among whom many sinners be,
Some humble, others puffed with pride,
Drunken in their effrontery;
Yet see how still Thy bounties rain
On roofs of unbelieving clans,
While strike Thy thunderbolts the homes
Of all forbearing Mussalmans!”
Fresh blood was flushed in the dead limb of East,
It is a secret incomprehensible to Avicina and Alfarabi:
Muslims discovered themselves by the tempest of the West,
The circling waves of water bring out the precious pearl
by
Dr Allama Muhammad Iqbal
Little by little, the wind of fate changed,
I lost all hope
How can I describe the great pain,
My heart is wounded by grief.
Has anyone heard of such oppression,
Of hanging the innocent in lakhs?
No doubt, they have malice in their hearts,
Against the Mussalmans!
There is no joy here at all,
Such is the amazing fate.
For us, spring has turned into fall,
And for them , autumn has turned into spring!
What silly questions you ask, O! residents of the east!
You see us poor and so joke about us;
There was a town called Delhi, the chosen of the world,
The world's best used to live there to earn living,
The heavens have ruined it and
We are the residents of that ruined city
Where you see the desolation now,
was a bustling settlement before,
where the jackals are hiding today there used to dwell humans before
Where the stone pieces are scattered today,
there used to be rubies strewn all around,
in place of the pebbles there used to be gems gushing forth
Where there are barren fields and thorny bushes today,
there used to be castles, trees and gardens before
Where the whirlwinds are kicking up dust storms today,
there used to glide wealth, and beauties used to dance & provide fu
Nothing is consistent in this world Zafar,
the sight here today is totally different from what it was yesterday
not the light of any one's eyes,
nor the solace for any one's heart
of no use to anyone,
I am that one fistful of dust
I am not the song infusing life,
why would anyone want to hear me
I am the sound of separation,
I am the wail of much distress
my complexion and beauty is ravaged,
my beloved is parted from me
the garden that got ruined in autumn,
I am the crop of its spring
I am neither anyone's friend,
nor am I anyone's rival
the one that is ruined, I am that fate
the one that is destroyed, that land
why should anyone come to sing a requiem
why should anyone come to offer four flowers
why should anyone come to light a candle
I am the tomb of that destitution
cannot find peace, this heart of mine,
in this wrecked land
who has succeeded in this
transitory world
having asked for a long life
I brought back four days
two passed away in yearning
and two in waiting
tell these desires
to go and settle down elsewhere
where is so much space
in the scarred heart
how ill-fated is Zafar
that for his burial
could not even find
two yards of land in the street of the beloved Country
Neither I am the apple of someone’s eye,
nor the peace of any heart,
I am just a handful of dust,
which is of no use to anyone
I have lost my charm and friend,
I am the spring of a garden that is wrecked by the autumn now
Neither I am friend to anyone, nor foe.
I am a star-crossed fate...a ruined castle
Why should someone visit my tomb and place a wreath..
I am the epitome of helplessness.. better leave me in the dark
My heart is not happy,
In this barren land
Who has ever felt fulfilled
In this temporary world
Please tell my emotions
to go away somewhere else
there is not enough room for them
in my sad heart
I had requested for a long life
a life of four days
Two were spent in praying
and two were spent in waiting
How unlucky Zafar is !
For his burial
he could'nt get even two yards of earth
in my beloved country.
by
Last Mughal King
Bahadur Shah Zafar
Western vices are ruining our morality,
affecting even the religious folk;
the Sheikh left the mosque before dawn,
as his graying hairs were reflecting from the fading colour of the dye
Don't be upset with the system, if you are not having a monopoly of your own
It is difficult to feel the diplomacy of the world; it spins like the earth but never jolts
It is natural to get angry at times, but bad to have grudges; aim high and keep your heart clean
By
Akbar Ala Abadi
