Monday, September 22, 2008


Burnt earth bereft of sky,
Eagles swoop to stay behind,
Vultures rule the mangled heaps,
Caskets unveiled by shadows blind.

Owls sing in the praise of hawks,
Bats blinking in endless gaze,
Unknown noise screams within,
As night descends to skulk on preys,

And we all stay silent.

Monday, September 15, 2008


Satin slashed, swell and sway,
Shredded, sweltering on the way.

Mangled bodies burning the furnace,
Minds indulging in mindless play.

The state solves the jigsaw puzzle,
My city back, beautiful and gay.

The idol of god is lit of course,
In the graveyards all night and day.

Let’s paint our faces to hide the tears,
Fears are for weak as they say.

“Mirage” you too, shall chatter and babble,
To hold the terrible silence at bay.

Monday, September 08, 2008


Let’s write our destinies on the leaf of desire,
Let’s bring back the dead from the burning pyre.

Why smear some ash, some vermillion on the face,
Why act like mercenary puppets on hire.

Let’s not think for thinking makes it hard to remember,
Let’s forget for once that we created the fire.

Why blow over cinders and feed them with straw,
Why not let it be subsumed in its own mire.

Let’s pour some libations for the spirits, who watch,
Let’s not knowingly get into the gyre.

Why pretend to sleep while dying tonight,
Why fall “Mirage” and pretend to go higher.

Post script: This post/gazal is an appeal to the people of Kandhamal(a small district in Orissa) and Kashmir, where they are killing each other in the name of religion, in the name of God. Do we have a right to take away something that we cannot give to others? It is honour killing. Which honur? Whose honour? The pseudo secularism in India has not failed to bring shame to humanity for so long now. the bloodshed in the name of religion has to be stopped. There is only one religion, the religion of LOVE. How difficult is that to follow?

Secondly, this genre of English Gazal has been inspired by Agha Shahid Ali's innovative use of the Gazal Genre into English.

Thursday, September 04, 2008


I burst the blisters that cling to my flesh,
To dye the blood, with my frozen hands;
My cracked heels, thawing toes, perform,
A strange barter, between me and sands.

Together we grow, Together we suffer,
Finding our way, through times untold;
Moving past mirages, searching for oasis,
That exists, for we believe, will unfold.

I wouldn’t reach, the desired place,
I was desert, Desert was me;
I still fought on, shifting landscapes,
Churning constantly the cosmic sea.

I knew, the oasis was within me, yet,
Centuries of time to seek and strain;
Becoming the oasis, drop by drop,
Let go the desert, grain by grain.

The eternal moment on the vortex stands,
As the epochs ripple along with lands;
Yet I know, I will transform,
Renouncing the oasis, revealing the sands.

I am Sorry!

Koi kissa kahani nahi kehna chahti, Roohein roz bikti hain yahan, Aur humne outraged ho kar khoob dekhein hain tamashe yun hi. Mai...