Ode to Iqbal

The distant stars,
Within your reach,
As the old month of November
Approached in its surrender
As the eyes witnessed
Storms gathered in its pace,
The tumultuous ways of the world,
In confusion and lost direction,
The revival of spirit and intellect
The old paths of glory and heart
Walks with you in the old days,
Old reminders of Cambridge and Heidelberg
Where you once became the king of beggars,
But only the dervish you remained,
These beautiful words that were written
As East became the way for direction
As you travelled from one quarter to another,
As you followed truth in your pursuit
As poetry became alive
Of new forms and its shapes
Through dreams of your existence
As heavens followed its brightest star
Across those landscapes of dust and despair,
Follows in its whispers,
The morning dew of your memory
There lived this man,
The dervish, the poet, the philosopher
Dreamer of an eagle and change…….

KASHKIN

Like Indus We Travel

Like Indus we travel,
Through those ravines and paths,
Across the bends, we will meet you,
Here we come,
Our Time has come
From each corner, you will hear,
The roars of change and passion,
We have come to claim,
What is ours and yours?

Spent enough moments,
Through these nights of our existence,
In pain and seclusion,
The stories of our lives
As the image flicker past,
As you kept us tied to the ground
The old affiliations of status quo,
Watch you will,
At your peril the impact
As the river flows into the ocean
Cannot you stop or alter

Here we come,
As architecture begin to form
Its shapes and forms,
Of modernity and of progression
The revolution has just begun,
As the mind fuses with body,
In the moon lit sky across the desert
These caravans of youth
Cover we will all Pakistan,
From one corner to the other,
From one direction to the other,
Cannot you stop or alter

Our tomorrows,
Like the untrampled morning dew
Resumes its struggle
Where light is not a fire,
Where life is not a question
Where justice is not a dream
Where humanity is not a burden
Where truth is not a curse

Here we come,
Like an Indus,
We will meet you, at the ocean
As light pierces through the sky
As the truth prevails,
No longer the distant dream,
The destiny of our struggles…

KASHKIN

Allah Ho, Allah Ho………

As I forget my existence,
As I hear those echoes,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho…
In my remains
Through these corridors
As I remain in this ecstasy
As it rolls over my existence,
These finer grained moments
As my soul moves,
Engulfed in only you
Allah Ho, Allah Ho….

As I am captured,
By these words
As I follow these routines of life,
As these routines follow me,
As I hear these beautiful voices,
As I am haunted by its power,
Through its clarity and belief
Subliminal coherence
As I forget,
My intellect and my reason
Only the heart remains
As I hear these echoes
Allah Ho, Allah Ho….

No conversation and its need,
To discover you
Through these endeavours
To seek you,
No one but you,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho,
As my steps remain closer to you,
No need to discover you,
Embedded there
In these hours of creation
The truth and its essence
No need for me
To question and to travel
In pursuit of this whole universe,
Allah Ho, No one but you,
Allah Ho, Only to you I belong

In submission, my heart cries out,
In submission, my soul surrenders,
In submission, my body falters,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho
No one but You
All known and unknown belongs to you,
All that is there- in dreamer’s world
And innocence of child,
All that exists in between
These threads of life and death,
Only to you I belong, in my insignificance,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho, No one but you ……

,
The whole Universe and its dynamics
Only to you, only to you,
All its creation and movement,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho, Allah Ho…………
As my existence carries its journey
Allah Ho, Allah Ho…
No words, No conversations,
Can decipher, only the heart
Allah Ho, Allah Ho,
No one but you,
Only to you, I belong,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho,

Through these rotations,
As my soul lost in its beauty,
Allah Ho, Allah Ho,
No one but you,
Only to you, I belong
Only to you, I belong
Allah Ho, Allah Ho
Only to you, I belong
In my pain, in my elation,
In my surrender, in my journeys,
Only to you, I belong
Only to you, I belong,
In my insignificance,
As I step forward,
In my submission to you
Allah Ho, Allah Ho…
Allah Ho, Allah Ho……

KASHKIN

Whispers of Your Soul

Time will come when they will acclaim
Within the corners of their hearts
What they could not do in the open
To see and to admit
The crevices in these mirrors,
The reflections, of change and wisdom
There remains a tickle and a whisper of sound,
From the old dreamers of the past to the new,
Wherever you will go, follow it will,
The sounds of your conscience and time
Questions you asked, doubts you created,
But now you are caged inside,
Within the whispers of your soul
The prisoner of time, humbled by its sigh
The old human regret, as the moments gone
Only the reflection and whispers
In the corners of your soul,
As you await, in all your might
The caravans of change departed in its flight….

KASHKIN

The Rain

It belongs here not,
The rain,
Travelled from a distant land,
The nomads,
Follow it well,
Only to a distance

Remains in view,
The old barricades
Of the past,
Buried in the torrents,
The poems of droplets,
As the blue tribes search
Through years of prayers

The dusty faces,
Leaps into spring
As it falls upon
The crevices of skin,
There somewhere,
In a distant land,
Awaits, through its pain
The moments of peace

Travelled it has far,
To the places alien,
As the old nomads,
Dig up the deserts,
The quest never ends,
For the tiny droplets of life
Now the napes begin to feel
The beautiful effect
The dance finally begins
Through the crimson effects
Of the monsoon and its storms…

Kashkin

Disturb Me Not…

Disturb me not my friend,
All this opium and its effect
Awake now Coleridge in the dales
In search for old metaphors and rimes
From  the old seas and mariners
Or the half written poem on kubla khan

Disturb me not my friend
the doors that you shake
escaped those words in style
Never to be written only in dreams
as your conversation around in circles
the airwaves that carry the old wine
Fumes of intoxication and the old tales

Disturb me not my friend
the great injustice that will fall
As those whispers walk in the corridors
Strange and slow, the shades
Of our thoughts and history
Piercing and afraid, awake I am not
the constant battle
As it finds its victims
let me remain alone in dreams
Offer me you the world
The heaven remains
An old illusion into that voyage
Built from the old spectacles
Of fires and travel and mind

Disturb me not my friend
only the memories split
The shift above in the heavens
the moments of insanity
Disturb me not my friend
the strange laughter
Grows out in wilderness
As the old chords find its music
Through that silence as you step away

Disturb me not my friend,
The crimes you commit and its glory
The half written poems and the open doors
Gone forever the tales and it’s voyage
Only the empty oceans and its mind
Disturb me not, my friend…….

Kashkin

Hamid Mir’s Column- Imran Khan’s First Dharna- Translation

Imran Khan, you are making a mistake. Imran Khan there is danger and fear upon these streets of Peshawar. Imran Khan, in Peshawar you  can’t even gather 200 people…..Imran Khan please listen……..Imran Khan you are making a blunder as the  voices flowed in from all quarters, near and far…

All tactics were highlighted to put fear into Imran Khan regarding the Dharna (sit in). In Peshawar the concept of Dharna is dangerous and risky. Every day in Peshawar, there are bomb blasts and because of city’s worsening situation, the culture of organising protests and jalsas are no longer in vogue. The advice flowed in; instead of having a sit in on the road it is better to address the workers, in a hotel in Peshawar. But Imran Khan remained undeterred. A day before the Dharna, advice flowed from many friends to Imran Khan that “go ahead with the Dharna but please make sure there is enough security as well”. Imran Khan smiled and said “All is with Allah and He Knows best”. And finally the day came; 23rd April. He had e achieved which no other politician in Pakistan had ever done before.

As he entered into Peshawar the tail end of the procession was still in Nowsherra as people flocked together in the form of procession. The 20km long line of procession constituted all- in thousands, huddled together, men and women, young and old, in presence to raise their voices against Drone Attacks in Peshawar. The history was in its making. All these thousands were warned by their loved ones, near and far that anything can happen as Peshawar is volatile and engrossed in violence. Don’t go to Peshawar- Imran Khan is mad and don’t become part of his madness. What will happen if there is an explosion?

But why did these people leave behind the comfort of their homes and the advice of the loved ones. The answer was simple and common. Imran Khan had left his home as well and he was there with them. Imran Khan knew that he will not be able to stop the drone attacks with this protest and sit in but he wanted to dispel that sense of fear and decadence in the city of Peshawar. He wanted to give hope to those thousands who were with him and those who could not come; someone is there with them in these hours of pain and grief, without any security, bullet proof jackets and cars. He was there with them in t flesh and blood as they were. He wanted to sit with them and feel that anguish and pain through the night and days for next 48 hours.

All those critics who feverishly complained and bitterly stated that it was the establishment, the military and the army who had  brought him and supported for this sit in to add another dimension to political play and tactics. But I wish they had heard him in Peshawar. Not only did he criticise Americans for their policy of drone attacks but also the army as well for their continued attacks and killings of innocent civilians. Not only were there- , the tribals who had lost their loved ones, but people from all places, from Bajur, Orakzai, Mohmand agency and more- the young and old tribals who bitterly complained about the Army and the situation they faced.  People from North Waziristan complained heavily that in all these years they have yet to discover and to see any dead bodies of Taliban and Al-Qaeda leaders over there.

In each of these drone attacks scores of women and children and young are killed but in papers we see Al-Qaida and Taliban deaths. This old man from North Waziristan mentioned the Army and Americans are all in this together- they criticise each other in public and yet they are all working together in pursuit of this policy of terror and mayhem in the form of drone attacks. They all are tied with each other and the money that flows. The old man shouted the only hope is Imran Khan and if Imran Khan could not get these drone attacks to end, then he and his tribals will declare Jihad  on the Army and this time not in Waziristan but in Lahore and Rawalpindi.

The significance of these two days was not simply how many turned up but the manner and the courage they displayed to attend this sit in from all corners and to spend those 48 hours amidst fear and chaos with their leader, in the open skies of Peshawar. It was a spectacle not to be missed to see their leader amongst them on these streets of Peshawar.

These young people and workers may not have the experience of coordination but their emotion brunt with fervour and their hearts filled with this light and peace that finally they can together get rid of this fear, this fear of death and hopelessness together with their leader.

Also present in this procession, an old woman from Lahore. She was 10 years old when Pakistan came into being and her family had sacrificed a lot. And today again this country is being destroyed and I come here to offer my presence and support for this man, Imran Khan. Another woman, in Burqa from Swat with her eight year old son. She asked me about people involved in Mukhtara’s Mai case and how they got away   as there was not enough evidence provided to the court. The women involved in NGOs started to protest. But why don’t these NGOs protest and raise their voices when innocent children are butchered to death in drone attacks? Why don’t their conscience gets stirred by those images of horror and mayhem?

And another significant change I noticed that every single person was at the height of their political awareness. And the whole procession went wild when Imran Khan mentioned that if someone drops a bomb upon my house and kills everyone, then Imran Khan will become the biggest terrorist himself. This fervour and this enthusiasm provided that sense of fear in status quo what this youth can do. Their collective awareness and wisdom now could bring a revolution. This crowd was wild in its muse and they wanted answers to those years of sufferings.  A student from Peshawar University had vowed to himself that he will seek revenge to all the deaths in Laal Masjid but Musharaf ran away from the country. Now he has vowed to himself that he will seek revenge upon those responsible for the deaths of people killed by Raymond Davies – Asif Zardari and Shahbaz Shareef.

Almost an argument ensued with this young student from Peshawar the more I asked him about these things and his views. He mentioned about three well known journalists on the payroll of America and stated that in next sit in (Dharna), he will give these journalists the honour of having their pictures and posters clad with shoes in public. And if I do not disassociate myself from these three journalists, then he will consider me as well with them and the same treatment will be meted out to my picture as well. I wondered what if this student and hundreds more in this fervour on the streets of Lahore and Islamabad, imagine the impact these young souls can do. They can create a riot in their passion and from that sense of injustice that has dwelled upon them.

The most interesting thing came from Sardar Soran Singh. He said “When I had asked you to start a dialogue with Talibans, these people on the payroll of America and affiliations with the West screamed and protested about this”. …Now America wants to have a dialogue with the Talibans, and these very same people remain silent? Sardar Saab was representing the non Muslims in this Dharna (sit in).  Dr Fouzia Siddiqui, sister of Dr Aafia, proclaimed upon stage that she intends to present the bangles to President Zardari and Army Chief General Kiyani. So much passion and sense of pain her words created that one young man from remote village of Jaoti, in South Punjab, cried in pain and tormented and raised his hands towards the heavens, loudly offering Dua “Ae Allah Rid Pakistan from these Mir Jaffars and Mir Sadiqs”….Oh My Lord, help me and give me the strength so I can stand with Imran Khan and block this NATO route for a month and bring Dr Aafia back from America”. Seeing this young man, wildly crying in his bewilderment, it occurred to me all those intellectuals, whom had stated our allegiance to America and slavery as a ground reality, drone attacks the need of the time, and national pride and dignity simply an artificial and empty emotion.

As I wondered what if Imran Khan really decided to block roads going from Peshawar into Torkham and from Karachi into Chaman, what will the Americans do? What will they do if all routes going into Afghanistan are blocked upon call of Imran Khan? It is abundantly clear that our elected government is not going to do that – then Imran Khan will have to do what our elected government could not do.

 

 As I wondered, this man will carry the aspirations of this youth from all corners of Pakistan, these women who carried their children and the old who carried their pain and grief with them and sat through the protest. He will have to DO ALL what our elected government could not do. As I wondered……….of all what he will do, this Imran Khan what they could never do in past 60 years or so- our elected governments and our establishment. As I wandered through the streets of Peshawar, there was no fear, death and violence..Only the open skies and the man asleep amongst his people on the container….He had finally come home..As I wondered….the whole Pakistan was there, in pitched up tents, in open skies, finally freed from that bondage of slavery for 48 hours….As I wondered what the rest will do???…

As Quetta Weeps..Wali Khan Babar

Another son of Pakistan we lost-
Departed from this world,,,
Find they have new ways
Of submission and to silence
The one of fear and oppression
As the murderers roam free
The wounds too many to count
The faces too hard to forget

As everything crumbles
Inside our souls, the world
And outside, only the rage
Silenced, as they carry him
In two sheets to his grave
The final tribute from us,
Of guns and bullets
As Quetta weeps,
Only 29, lost forever….
Only crime, he spoke…
Kashkin

Asiya Bibi- The Water Fetcher

Mother of five and farm worker
To earn her bread and ale
The old routines to fetch water
As await her four angels
The empty stomachs
To fend off hunger and poverty
And yet remains in view
With disdain and hatred,
The old refusal
To the hands and its toil
Cannot you serve us?
You don’t belong to our clan
Cannot you run away?
We have our laws,
We have our might
Follow we will to your place,
Burn we will you to death
Cannot you escape?
We will find you
Through the laws, to the gallows
Take your choice, you are the one
The weak and in fear
As you play havoc in our farms
Your hands are not clean,
Your soul is not to our beliefs
And your body, consume we will
The rights we have derived
As we practise our ignorance
As we invoke laws and its existence
In our tightened chests and minds

The annals of history heavy,
The story of human civilisations
Minorities don’t reflect
Minorities don’t offend
Opinions of the majority
Why will they insult?
There are no grounds
Created out of hatred
These testimonies
As they run riots

Here in the West, where we become
The weak and minorities
How often do we cry and scream
Upon Church of England and Pope,
Even when the options are there,
The freedom in action and through speech
Why only in Pakistan
Driven out of their homes
The death sentences and damage
To their properties and children
This is not Islam they practise
Only the hatred in their hearts
The manifestation of the times unknown
As the games are played
To persecute minorities and weak

The practise that goes unnoticed
These ways of fear and intimidation
Pushed upon them these laws,
Through reasons not religious
The total abyss, in our morals and ethics
All forgotten we have our own,
Prophet for whole mankind and his message

Tied down to the gallows,
The woman and her children
The tales of water fetcher
Her only crime- weak and in fear
Not from the same clan as rest
The embedded irony of our times
As we play havoc in the Garden of Eden…

Kashkin