Waiting for the morn
In the last two decades, I have trans-created over 300 of my Urdu poems in the medium of English. ("Translation" would be an incorrect word...
Author : Dialogue Times
Recuerdo… A Heathrow Heartthrob: The story of a kiss
The baby I caught in midair like a ball. The kid behind rolled over her …safe. Did not cry at all, helped the limping mom...
Kahlil Gibran on the Courage to Weather the Uncertainties of Love
That is what the great Lebanese-American poet, painter, and philosopher Kahlil Gibran (January 6, 1883–April 10, 1931) explores in one of the most stirring passages...
The Path and I
(Originally written in Urdu) When I stop, the path raises itself a bit Looks at me and says: “Why did you stop? To get rid...
Symbiosis
(Originally written in Urdu) Old, dry, and shriveled up Bereft now of new shoots and green leaves Bent almost double like a century-old man The...
Part – II: I confess I was that woman
They redefined it and made sure that It had only one eternal standard, for both sexes, that all the virtues professed around them were founded...
Come My Slayer
Written when my first child was born. (Culled from my poetry collection A VAGRANT MIRROR) Come, my slayer Let me hold you in my arms...
Part – I: I confess I was that woman!
Meanwhile, using their right of beauty, women enjoyed the respect they received by degrading themselves in front of men, all the time thinking that they...
Names, Nicknames & Pet-Names
Now as an Indian born in a metropolitan city like Delhi, Surinder had no idea of what a Daisy flower looked like. Diwedi, with his...
Till Death Do Us Apart
TILL DEATH DO US APART A John Donne epigram retold (Written a decade ago, at my wife’s death) Poison the winds with fingers; say of...
Who Am I?
Who am I? Asks my hidden self Not one of the many who roam about here Different, yes… Distinctly different From those shreds and shavings...
Eye of the Storm
How nice it would be if we too could be calm and serene in the midst of chaos – in the eye of the storm!...
The Eternal Clock
Whom do I ask? When I burn up like a shooting star And fall on the hard ground with a thud Will someone ask, “Who...
A Vagrant Mirror
Originally written in Urdu under the title شہر میں گھومتا آئینہ۔۔۔ A vagabond vagrant mirror I am I roam about the streets of my town...
Maya Angelou
In Southeastern University, Washington D.C., back in 1986, I met a young Afro-Asian teacher who had a not-very-uncommon name, Maya. I told her that Maya...
Horns
(This poem was originally written in Urdu under the title سینگ ) Something did happen last night, He thought absent-mindedly. Well, what was it? Yes,...
A Student Clad in ‘Abaya’
It was the third month of my stay in Riyadh in 1992 that I had to face a ticklish situation. My assignment was framing of...
An Interview with Myself
Who will ever think of interviewing someone who has interviewed others scores of times? Reflecting on this tragicomedy of a man – no other than...
The Alternative Path
Tiptoed I have On twisting, turning, twirling path A single path nonetheless Till I’ve reached where it forks into two. Both trails beckon me “Welcome,”...
A Vagrant Mirror Series of Poems – 1
THE PRODIGAL SON WILL BE BACK (ADDRESSED TO MY HOMELAND THAT I LEFT 40 YEARS BACK) Suddenly past the midnight hour Yes, I will come...
