Lovers have nothing to do with existence
When will my beloved visit my courtyard
The soulful poetry of Khawaja Ghulam Farid (1845-1901) best represents the essence of Seraiki language. Diwan-e-Farid, a collection of the poet’s verses, happens to be an outstanding masterpiece of Seraiki mystical poetry that reaches the poetic excellence and transcendence found in the messages of Rumi and Iqbal in terms of exploring the metaphysics of knowledge and being.
Shahzad Qaiser has undertaken a major labour of love by rendering the Diwan-e-Farid into English and issuing another separate volume – The Metaphysics of Khawaja Ghulam Farid – that explores the vastness of meaning in Khawaja Farid’s poetry. It is rare these days to find a civil servant who can spare time to devote himself to the cause 
of letters. In contrast to past traditions, present day civil service has become a vehicle for playing along with palace intrigues and extracting opportunities from the vicissitudes of power. Rejecting this trend, Qaiser appears to have shunned the ordinary power-mongering culture and delved deeper into the mysteries of divine love. Therefore, his endeavour to search for the inner meanings of Khawaja Ghulam Farid’s poetry has been eminently successful. These two volumes are highly readable and well-presented for specialists and lay readers alike.
Khawaja Ghulam Farid was born in Chachran, located in the south of present day Pakistan’s Punjab province. His spiritual ancestry was somewhere linked with the revered Baba Farid Ganj-e-Shakar of Pakpattan and hence he was named after the master saint of the family. It is the metaphysical understanding which talks of reality as the divine essence and removes the difference between Ahad and Wahad and one and many that constitutes the doctrine of ‘oneness of being’
THE DANCE OF SHIVA
Truly, LOVE is the sole universal experience. In modern times, we all know Human Love, but can we cross over to Divine Love, as the Sufis seemed to do?
A song ,i wrote....(Surya Rao Maturu)
THEÂ Â DANCEÂ Â Â OFÂ SHIVA
========================
 FRIENDS, I sing you the Song of Shiva
 The ancientest  God on Earth.
 He,
 Who dances the Nat, dusk to dawn
 Atop Mount Kailasa,every night;
 Night after night.
 He cannot stop ,now or ever.
 He dances on the Dance of Shiva.
 Yonder back in time,
 When the Devas and Asuras,
 churned the Ocean of Desires, for Nectar,
 Out came Hemlock Primieval,
 Deadlier than the deadliest Death.
 All fled,
 No one to save life on earth,
 But for Shiva, the Tribal God.
Four poems by Bulleh Shah (new translations)
Who I am
I know not who I am,
I am neither a believer going to the mosque
Nor given to non-believing ways.
Neither clean nor unclean,
Neither Moses nor Pharaoh.
I know not who I am.
I am neither among sinners nor among saints,
Neither happy nor unhappy,
I belong neither to water nor to earth.
I am neither fire nor air,
I know not who I am.
Neither do I know the secret of religion,
Nor am I born of Adam and Eve.
I have given myself no name,
I belong neither to those who squat and pray,
Nor to those who have gone astray.
I know not who I am.
I was in the beginning; I'd be there in the end.
I know not any one other than the One.
Who could be wiser than Bulleh Shah
Whose Master is ever there to tend?
I know not who I am.
Come my Love, take care of me
Come my Love, take care of me,
I am in great agony.
Ever separated, my dreams are dreary,
Looking for you, my eyes are weary.
All alone I am robbed in a desert,
Waylaid by a bunch of waywards.
The Mulla and Qazi show me the way,
Their maze of dharma that is in sway.
They are the confirmed thieves of time.
They spread their net of saintly crime.
Their time-worn norms are seldom right,
With these they chain my feet so tight!
My love cares not for caste or creed.
To the ritual faith I pay no head.
My Master lives on yonder bank
While I am caught in the gale of greed.
With his boat at anchor, He stands in wait,
I must hasten I can’t be late.
Bulleh Shah must find his love,
He needn’t have the least fright.
His Love is around, yet he looks for him
Misled in the broad daylight.
Come my love take care of me,
I am in great agony.
**************
Strange are the times!
Crows swoop on hawks
Sparrows do eagles stalk
Strange are the times!
The Iraqis are despised
While the donkeys are prized
Strange are the times!
Those with coarse blankets are kings;
The erstwhile kings watch them from the ring.
Strange are the times!
Its not without reason or rhyme,
Strange are the times
Says Bulleh, kill your ego
And throw away your pride.
You need to forget yourself
To find Him by your side.
It’s all in One contained
Understand the One and forget the rest.
Shake off your ways of an apostate pest.
Leading to the grave to hell and torture,
Rid your mind of dreams of disaster.
This is how is the argument maintained,
It’s all in One contained.
What use is it bowing one’s head?
To what avail has prostrating led?
Reading Kalma you make them laugh,
Absorbing not a word while the Quran you quaff.
The truth must be here and there sustained,
It’s all in One contained.
Some retire to the jungles in vain.
Others restrict their meals to a grain.
Misled they waste away unfed
And come back home half alive, half dead.
Emaciated in the ascetic postures feigned,
it’s all in One contained,
Seek your master, say your prayers and surrender to God,
It will lead you to mystic abandon
And help you to get attuned to the Lord.
It’s all the truth that Bulleh has gained.
It’s all in One contained.
Bulleh Shah, a renowned Muslim spiritual leader of the sub continent of Indo-Pakistan, was a Punjabi Sufi poet. His spiritual master was Shah Inayat Qadiri of Lahore and because of this Bulleh was referred to as a saint or spiritual leader. Bulleh's real name was Abdullah Shah, but he was known as Bulleh to his family and that was the name he chose to use as a poet.
Dumbfounded by Love
Dear soul, Love alone cuts arguments short,
for it alone comes to the rescue when you cry for help against
disputes.
Eloquence is dumbfounded by Love: it dares not wrangle;
for the lover fears that, if he answers back,
the pearl of inner experience might fall out of his mouth.
Rumi - translation by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Jewels of Remembrance"
Threshold Books, 1996
“The Whole Place Goes Up” – Rumi
Spring is here, friends.
Let's stay in the garden
And be guests to the strangers of the green.
We'll fly from one flower to the other,
Like bees making the six corners
Of this earth's hives prosperous.
An envoy came from this fortress
And said, "Don't beat the drum secretly.
With our yells, we would tear down the place
Where that Love's drum is beating."
Hear that voice which comes from the sky,
"Rise, all insane ones.
I sacrifice my Soul to the insane.
Let's scatter our Soul today."
Let's break all the chains.
Every one of us is a blacksmith.
Let's go to the fireplace where the pincers are.
Let's fan the flame of the Heart's fire
Like the furnace of blacksmiths.
So we can have iron Hearts
Under our control with breath.
We'll put fire in this universe,
Incite riots in the sky,
Make his sober, resisting mind
Turn around, become dizzy like ours.
We are like a ball, without hands and feet,
Sometimes at the end
And sometimes at the beginning of the square.
Who told you we could do what we want?
Who told you we are independent?
No, no. We are like a club
In the hand of the Sultan.
We send hundreds of thousands of balls
To His feet.
Let's be silent. Silence is made
With some material like craziness.
His mind is such a fire
That we hide this fire by wrapping it in cotton.
-- Translation by Nevit O. Ergin
"Divan-i Kebir" -- Meter 1
Walla Walla, Washington: Current, 1995.
The folded moment
Well, this evening I was bored with my writing. To amuse myself I assembled this little poem.
This was just another day
humdrum, ordinary, plain
save the few words
of assurance ..
nameless affections
and vacant moments.
So I picked up
a moment, casually
and put it away
in my silly pocket.
I am home now
looking for it;
and just found out
that the crumpled moment
has grown into a premonition
of things to happen
of words that could be said
or left unsaid.
So I have folded that moment
neatly and gently
and placed it in a book
that I intend to read
but might not actually read.
And yet, tomorrow
I want to see what happens to it.
Will it gaze at me,
with a sardonic smile
and inquire: "Are you looking for me"
Again?
Raza Rumi - April 18 - 11 pm
the world I do not need..Amir Khusrau
Amir Khusrau
I am a pagan (worshiper) of love: the creed (of Muslims) I do not need;
Every vein of mine has become (taut like a) wire; the (pagan) girdle I do not need.
Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this no medicine does he need.
If there be no pilot on our ship, let there be none:
We have God in our midst: the pilot we do not need.
The people of the world say that Khusrau worships idols.
So I do, so I do; the people I do not need,
the world I do not need.
A poem of love and longing by Parveen Shakir
I rediscovered this exquisite poem by Parveen Shakir after years. This is an intense love poem of rare beauty. It is composite, taut and melodic. I have tried to translate it - however, the impossibility of a translation haunts me..
More so, the reality of days gone by, the visions lost haunts me even more..
Dedicated to those who stand by the sea of evening colours and moods and want to merge with their expanse. And, to someone who lives with time present and time past with equal ease..
yay haseen shaam apni
yay haseen shaam apni
abhi jiss meiN ghul rahi hai
teray parahan kee khushboo
abhi jiss meiN khil rahay heiN
meray khawab kay shagoofay
zera dair ka hai manzar
zera dair meiN ufq par
khilay ga koi sitaara
teri simt daik kar woh
karay ga koi ishara
teray dil ko aayay ga phir
kissi yaad ka bullawa
koi qissa-ay judaaee, koi kaar-ay naamukamal
koi khawab-ay naa shagufta, koi baat kehnay wali
humeiN chaahiyay tha milna
kissi ahad-ay mehrbaaN meiN
kissi khawab kay yaqeeN meiN
kissi aur aasmaaN par
kissi aur sarzameeN meiN
humeiN chahiyay tha milna...
Here is the odd translation rendered by this blogger.
This melting evening of ours
Where everything dissolves
the scent of your clothes
the blossoming
sprouts of my dreams
All dissolves
A deferred vision, this is
In a little while,
a star will emerge on the horizon
To gaze at you
Meaningfully...!
Your heart shall then reminisce
the echo of a memory
The tale of a separation,
Of an unfinished moment
Of unblossomed dreams, things unsaid
We ought to have met
In times, considerate
In pursuit of attainable dreams
On a different sky
On a different earth
We ought to have met
Picture by Raza Rumi
Khowaja Fareed – the mystical voice of Southern Punjab
A friend, for the lack of a better term (why are we always hankering after labels and identities for some associations that lie beyond the act of defining), wrote this piece for Jahane Rumi. She is a follower of the Sufi creed and this is what created a bond between us that refuses to go away despite the different paths and lives we have led. The connection has stood the winds of time. There is an audio-link at the end as well.
Recently while going through some of my late grandfather's books, I was struck by a feeble looking Deewan of Khowaja Fareed. Feeble because it bore the date of 1964 for its inclusion in his impressive book collection. Expressing the thrill of holding a book which had travelled 44 years in time to reach me is beyond words. Needless to say with what intensity the book's contents kept me immersed in them for almost two hours with un -interrupted focus which is a rare event in an ever-reaching-out-to-meet-a-target kind of life style we are used to.
Singing of youth and beauty, life and death
by Vidya Rao
 I was fortunate to be one of the women invited to the first meeting of the Grandmothers' University at Bija Vidyapeeth early this year.
Ecstasy and Order – Salman Chishty on Rumi
My young friend, Salman Chishty, from Ajmer (India) wrote this piece for the HTÂ on the eve of Rumi's birth anniversary.
Longing – a short poem
This little poem by the famous Turk poet Aziz Nesin was left on Jahane Rumi by Sherry - I love it so much that I am re-posting it here -
You made me wait so long, so long that
I got used to missing you
You came back after a long time
I now love longing for you more
than I love you
(translated by Suleyman Fatih Akgul)
Any Chance Meeting
In every gathering, in any chance meeting
on the street, there is a shine,
an elegance rising up.
Today, I recognized that that jewel-like beauty
is the presence, our loving confusion,
the glow in which watery clay
gets brighter than fire,
the one we call the Friend.
I begged, "Is there a way into you,
a ladder?"
"Your head is the ladder.
Bring it down under your feet."
The mind, this globe
of awareness, is a starry universe that when
you push off from it with your foot,
a thousand new roads come clear, as you yourself
do at dawn, sailing through the light.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
"Say I am You"
Maypop, 1994
Weave not, like spiders..
There was a tragedy in my family recently. It has been a sobering week, reflective as well as chaotic.
 Last night, I read this translation of Rumi and understod how important it was to have faith and trust the power of Love.Â
Weave not, like spiders, nets from grief's saliva
In which the woof and warp are both decaying.
But give the grief to Him, Who granted it,
And do not talk about it anymore.
When you are silent, His speech is your speech.
When you don't weave, the weaver will be He.
-- Translation by Annemarie Schimmel
I will take you to the depths of spirit
I am the Spirit Moon
with no place.
You do not see me for I am hidden
inside the soul.
Others want you for themselves but I call you
back to yourself.
You give me many names but I am
beyond all names.
Sometimes you say I am deceitful
but as long as you are
I will be too.
Until you remain blind and deaf
I will be invisible.
I am the garden of all gardens
I speak as the King of all flowers
I am the spring of all waters.
My words are like a ship and the sea
is their meaning.
Come to me and I will take you
to the depths of spirit.
Rumi
Translated by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Endowed with Love
Truly, those who are faithful
and do righteous deeds,
the Compassionate One will endow with Love.
- The Quran, (19:96)
Sahir Ludhianvi’s Taj Mahal
Sahir Ludhianvi's immortal poem Taj Mahal has always fascinated me. It takes a most unconventional take at this beautiful monument where the poet protests at the choice of a romantic rendezvous.
Today, I found a lovely translation of this poem. I am reproducing it below - but first a few lines from Urdu:
Yeh chaman zar yeh jamna ka kinara yeh mahal
Yeh munaqqash dar-o-deevar yeh mehrab yeh taaq
Aik shahanshah nay daulat ka sahara lay ker
Hum ghareebon kee mohabbat ka uraya hai mazaaq
Taj Mahal
The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!
How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
'Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren't truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.
These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor's very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.
This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.
Translation by K.C. Kanda, appeared in Masterpieces of Urdu Nazm published by Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd. - found here
Bulleh Shah – poems and musings
I am free, my mind is free,
I can be imprisoned nowhere.
Today Bulleh Shah's Urs (death anniversary) celebrations have commenced in Qasoor, Pakistan. Bulleh Shah was an iconoclastic Sufi poet from the Punjab who rejected convention, orthodox religion and conventions. His message of peace and individuality continues. In all respects he was ahead of his times. This time delegates from India will also attend the ceremonies and his timeless verse shall be sung.
Centuries before we knew existentialist thought, this was uttered by a small town Sufi poet:
I know not who I am
I am neither a believer going to the mosque
Nor given to non-believing ways
Neither clean, nor unclean
Neither Moses not Pharaoh
I know not who I am
I am neither among sinners nor among saints
Neither happy, nor unhappy
I belong neither to water not to earth
I am neither fire, not air
I know not who I am
(Translation by K S Duggal)
Another poem berates the classes and hierarchies that divide people:
Let us go O Bullah
let us go then you and I
to the kingdom of the blind;
where none debates our caste or creed
none respect us thus.
This transient world
is neither thine nor mine;
all is finite
why then this quarrel
this contest
for all is ephemeral there in.
Mullah and the torch bearer
are both alike,
professing to light the path for others
themselves dwell in darkness.
(from ‘Kalaam Bulleh Shah’ printed by Pakistan International Printers, Lahore )
On the futility of ritual and uttering that Reality is about unity of all existence - Ik Nukte vich Gal Mukdi Eh (Its all in One contained):
Understand the one and forget the rest.
Shake off your ways of an apostate pest
Leading to the grave to hell and to torture.
Rid your mind of dreams of disaster.
This is how is the argument maintained.
It’s all in One contained.
What use is it bowing one’s head?
To what avail has prostrating led?
Reading kalam you make them laugh.
Absorbing not a word while the Quran you quaff.
The truth must be here and there sustained.
It’s all in One contained.
Some retire to the jungles in vain.
Others restrict their meals to a grain.
Misled they waste away unfed .
And come back home
Emaciated in the ascetic postures feigned.
It’s all in One contained.
Seek you master, say your prayers and surrender to God
It will lead you to mystic abandon
And help you to get attuned to the Lord.
It’s the truth that Bulleh has gained.
It’s all in One contained.
(Translation by K S Duggal)
What an inspiring corpus of verse Bulleh Shah has left for us.
Wish I was in Qasoor, too.
Please do watch Abida Parveen singing here and here.
Jahane Rumi Links: On the rejection of meaningless formal learning here and on freedom of the mind here; and on love sickness here.
In silence
There is a channel between voice and presence,
a way where information flows.
In disciplined silence the channel opens.
With wandering talk, it closes.
-- Version by Coleman Barks
That one is my desire
show me your face
i crave
flowers and gardens
open your lips
i crave
the taste of honey
come out from
behind the clouds
i desire a sunny face
your voice echoed
saying "leave me alone"
i wish to hear your voice
again saying "leave me alone"
i swear this city without you
is a prison
i am dying to get out
to roam in deserts and mountains
i am tired of
flimsy friends and
submissive companions
i die to walk with the brave
am blue hearing
nagging voices and meek cries
i desire loud music
drunken parties and
wild dance
one hand holding
a cup of wine
one hand caressing your hair
then dancing in orbital circle
that is what i yearn for
i can sing better than any nightingale
but because of
this city's freaks
i seal my lips
while my heart weeps
yesterday the wisest man
holding a lit lantern
in daylight
was searching around town saying
i am tired of
all these beasts and brutes
i seek
a true human
we have all looked
for one but
no one could be found
they said
yes he replied
but my search is
for the one
who cannot be found
-- Translation by Nader Khalili
Like Children
Recognize that your imagination and your thinking
and your sense perception are reed canes
that children cut and pretend are horsies.
The Knowing of mystic Lovers is different.
The empirical, sensory, sciences
are like a donkey loaded with books,
or like the makeup woman's makeup.
It washes
off.
But if you lift the baggage rightly, it will give you joy.
Don't carry your knowledge-load for some selfish reason.
Deny your desires and willfulness,
and a real mount may appear under you.
Don't be satisfied with the name of HU,
with just words about it.
Experience that breathing.
From books and words come fantasy,
and sometimes, from fantasy
comes union.
Rumi
Version by Coleman Barks
I thought I must give up on life..
Solomon Marni has contributed this beautiful poem for JR.Â
I thought I must give up on life
And turn into a stone;
The desert wind quite suited me:
No heart, no mind–just bone.
I thought it would be dumb to try
To want something again;
Wanting turns to need, and then
Transmogrifies to pain.
I laughed at people still in love
Who trusted someone’s word;
To make my happiness depend
On faith seemed quite absurd.
I lay alone and wonder-struck,
Sleepless in my bed,
Still numb, still dumb, still ice, ice cold,
Not knowing I was dead.
And then you came and shone upon
My meadow full of snow,
And saw the flowers only love
Could recognize and grow;
And made me feel so beautiful
I shed my cold, cold skin,
And opened up my heart to you,
And, fearful, let you in.
And now, my dear, I am in love,
With all that I’ve been through.
I know the worst of all the world,
And I believe in you
I wasn’t like this before….
believe me
i wasn't always like this
lacking common sense
or looking insane
like you
i used to be clever
in my days
never like this
totally enraptured
totally gone
like sharp shooters
i used to be
a hunter of hearts
not like today
with my own heart
drowning in its blood
nonstop asking and
searching for answers
that was then
but now
so deeply enchanted
so deeply enthralled
always pushing
to be ahead and above
since i was not yet hunted down
by this
ever-increasing love
RumiÂ
-- Translation by Nader Khalili
"Rumi, Fountain of Fire"
Cal-Earth Press, 1991
Courtesy Sunlight
Hope – A poem by Ayesha Salman
I had earlier posted a few poems by Ayesha Salman. She has sent me her new poem which, true to her style, is original and inventive with the diction.
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- Sufism (186)
- Technology (4)
- terrorism (12)
- theatre (2)
- Tragic (26)
- Translations (21)
- Travel (51)
- Turkey (5)
- Uncategorized (83)
- Urdu (103)
- Urdu Literature (78)
- video (24)
- War (37)
- women (2)
- World Artists (53)
- World Literature (127)
- World Writers (131)
- Sufism and Sufi poetry (25)
Posts Archive
Raza Rumi @ flickr
- Asim Butt's mural for T2F, Karachi
- T2F remembers Asim Butt
- Haris Gazdar at the memorial
- Asim's friends will always miss him
- George recites his poem
- Sabeen speaking about Asim Butt
- In attendance -
- The tribute to Asim Butt
- Asim's picture published by GT
- Another mural for The Second Floor-Asim Butt
Pak Tea House
- Lord Chief Justice Of Lahore High Court Is At It Again!
- An Article On Tahira Mazhar Ali
- Precautionary Blood Measures
- Be Part of the Change
- Samina Khawar Hayat: 200 kilos of Reason Why The Pakistani Reservation System Is Flawed
- Let Pakistan Make Its Own Progress
- Roving Report – Ayub Khan Era
- Total National Backlash Against Shahbaz Sharif
- Understanding Islamic Revival In Its Proper Context
- DANYAL MUEENUDDIN WINS
Development Industry
- Pakistan: 92 per cent of USAID projects go to US NGOs
- Learn from the UK. Open up data sources in South Asia
- Kiran Bir Sethi teaches kids to take charge
- State of research in Pakistan…
- Reforming Pakistan Civil Service
- Pakistan – Restructuring of PSEs
- Newinpk
- PAKISTAN: Reinventing microfinance
- Dissent as Democracy
- Pakistan 4th on regional list of adult illiterates
World music on NPR
- Solas: America's Wild Irish Rose
- The Thistle And Shamrock: Fiddle Styles
- Umm Kulthum: 'The Lady' Of Cairo
- Los Amigos Invisibles: A 'Commercial' Breakthrough
- The Thistle And Shamrock: Welsh Roots
- SXSW 2010 Preview
- Elis Regina: The Feeling Between The Notes
Tags
- West Bengal in turmoil – end of an era? - 2 emails
- Imam Hussain: The Beloved of the Beloved - 1 email
- Shah Ast Hussain - 1 email
- Holi has a Muslim History too - 1 email
- On Bhagat Singh, his vision and Jinnah’s support for his struggle - 1 email
- Voices of the oppressed – Dalit literature - 1 email
Pages
- “Man-Bitten” Ghalib: introducing himself
- “Seeds of peace on cricket field”
- ‘Author’s Plea’- Foreword of Aag ka Dariya by Qurutul-ain-Haider
- ‘O City of Lights’ by Khalid Hasan – A book review
- About Thumri
- Adieu Naguib Mahfouz
- adsense sample
- Amrita Pritam is no more 2/6
- Amrita Sher Gil’s Lahore
- An Essay on Nizamuddin by Marta Franceschini
- Basant Moods – Lahore and Beyond
- Beautiful Bird
- Bulleh Shah and Rumi 2/5
- Contact
- Dhaka by degrees
- Dhaka by Degrees – TFT
- Documents Archive
- “Iraq’s four-year looting frenzy, the allies have become the vandals”
- “step into the tavern of ruins..”
- A little more recogniton..
- A Little poem
- A recent Book on Faiz Ahmed Faiz
- Against Forgetting and No Poem is Mine
- Another accidental painting
- Fresh translations of Faiz
- Glimpses of nineteenth century Iran
- Go not without me
- Hope – A poem by Ayesha Salman
- How Art made the World
- How the British Raj took roots in India
- I finally moved here – “You lack a foot to travel?”
- Little Flute, Why So Proud?
- Master strokes
- Mother Goddess – Indus Valley
- Murree Ghosts – my recent painting
- Music Master
- My Journey (Mera Safar): Ali Sardar Jafri
- New paintings inspired by the golden Bengal
- New translations of Parveen Shakir
- No Tolerance for Richistans – Obscene Wealth is not victimless!
- Ominous shadows
- Pakistani media – an alternative view
- Qurratulain Hyder
- Sonargaon – A poem by HUR
- Story of a Painting – Mehrgarh, Indus and Ghalib
- Sufi Zikr – inspiration for a painting
- The rescued letter of Mahatama Gandhi
- Waves of anger and fear…
- Welcome Hatshepsut
- What is arrogance?
- Faiz translated by Vikram Seth
- Faiz translations (by Rehan)
- Femme Feryal
- Halaku, when you will come to Baghdad this time…
- I found Roses in Konya… 2/3
- I found Roses in Konya… 3/3
- I will meet you yet again – Amrita Pritam
- Ideology of intolerance
- Images from Data Saheb’s Shrine
- Images from Mahboob Ali
- Jal gaya tha ik roshniyon ka shaher
- Kafka Country – published in the Friday Times
- Kafka Country published in the Friday Times
- Links
- More of Bulleh Shah – keep swooning
- Mughal Princess Zebunnissa
- Muhammad’s Sword
- Muslim Bloggers from India
- On ‘The Great War for Civilisation’
- On Qurratulain Hyder –
- On Vidya Rao
- Open the Door
- Peace to Beirut with all my heart… 2/3
- Petal to Petal …..More of Parveen Shakir
- Qasmi – Urdu literature mourns a giant 2/4
- Qasmi, Literary Fueds and National Neglect
- Rare objects discovery points to ruins treasure
- Raza Rumi
- Revisiting Kabir – the Weaver, the Myth, the Master
- Sadequain 20 years later
- Shared visions: Khushwant Singh and Fahmida Riaz 2/2
- Standing Alone in Mecca (book review)
- Surveys show that Pakistanis (and Muslims) reject “terrorism”
- Teray Ishq Nachaya – Bulleh Shah – full text
- The Lost Jewel – Rediscovering Hazrat Ali’s Letter
- The roar of Rumi – 800 years on
- The Sultan of Hearts – Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya
- This world without Dr. Schimmel… 2/3
- Tum bilkul hum jaisey nikley
- Ustad Bismillah Khan is no more
- Web resources on Qurrutalain Hyder
- Why I love Pakistan? Top 5 reasons
- Darwin and the grand unity of life
- Khusrau: The shadow of power
