Category Archives: My Poetry and Others

Why Seek The World?

hands

This world of palaces, thrones, and crowns.

This world of societies that resent humanity,

This world of those hungry for [material] wealth,

What is this world to me, even if I can have it?

 

Each body is injured, each soul is thirsty,

With confused eyes and hearts full of sorrow,

Is this the world or the dominion of senselessness?

What is this world, even if I get it?

 

In this world where a person’s being is only a toy,

It is an establishment that worships death

Where it costs less to die than to breathe,

What is this world to me, even if I can have it?

 

Here youth wanders in hopelessness,

Young bodies are decorated and sold in the market,

Where love is treated as a product to trade,

What is this world, even if I get it?

 

This world, where human life is nothing,

Where loyalty is nothing, where friendship is nothing,

Where love has no meaning at all,

What is this world, even if I get it?

 

Burn this world, set it on fire!

Move this world away from me!

The world is yours, you take care of it.

What is this world to me, even if I can have it?

____

Yeh Duniya Agar Mil bhi Jaaye to Kya Hain? (Pyaasa, 1957)

————–

Subhanallah, what a beautiful, yet tragic Urdu poem from the 1957 classic Pyaasa. It is worthy to share this ghazal in time where ‘success’ is equated to fulfilling or striving for worldly pleasures. But what happens when one attains all the so-called worldly ‘pleasures’? You gained the world, but at what cost? Does the heart feel full? How many lives were slaughtered or degraded in the process of obtaining “success” and “happiness”?

I’ve met many great souls who are tormented, silently. They were, at some point during their lives, duped into believing that they weren’t ‘successful’ enough because they weren’t attaining enough worldly ‘pleasures.’ Or, perhaps, like myself, they obtained the so-called ‘good life’ and realized it meant nothing. My desire to ‘gain the world’ has lessened. It is my hope that myself and others can gain the strength to resist the deceptively-charming-in-your-face forces that are rampant in society. Life has so much beauty to offer that isn’t always visible to the human eye. After all, what significance is the world in a superficial sense? What significance is a body with no spiritual depth? It is only the soul that is immortal.

I actually feel great sadness when I realize many people are still chasing the worldly ‘pleasures’ to the extent that they become apathetic and soulless. People are seduced by this false notion that ‘gaining the world’ makes a worthy life. Such a predisposition suggests that a life without glamour, superficial beauty, money and power is unworthy. Again, does money, prestige and power make the heart feel full? Or does one even have a heart once they’ve slowly bartered off their soul for their ego?  The world (duniya) is only temporary —  Life becomes meaningful when one focuses on enriching their soul, not their ego. 

Duniya

 

 

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An Honorable Love

I honored the memories by enduring the pain,

I did not numb, I did not run away, I just lived and accepted the torment.

My silence was my honor.

You, however, honored it by drowning yourself in alcohol.

In this new far away place,

Without heart, you perform your 5 daily prayers.

And this is how you show your honor,

Desperate to boost your ego, your faltering sense of ‘pride,’

By buying women, using them to quench your hunger, and discarding them once you’ve eaten their souls.

Oh, an honorable lover indeed.

Foolishly, I once considered our seperation akin to tales of the Great Lovers.

Only to realize, I was the only one mourning.

Oh, what wasted tears.

To realize all that flattery was really a slow, indirect rape.

Cunning foxes always use their charm,

To use others to please their own selfish desires.

Does a fox ever repent for the blood that remains on his teeth?

I will burn, I will accept the humiliation and embrace it,

For pain is ultimately strength, and I fear no longer to endure it.

Unlike you, who fears a drop of despair.

The laws of physics now apply:

“What goes up must come down,”

you have fallen from the pedestal.

And thus, no longer worthy of honor.

-Myself

———————-

fragrant garden

The following poem was written by a man, in praise of the scent of his lover:

A Woman’s Scent

That night when my mother
took me to her breasts
I knew woman had a scent
quite different from man’s…

Tonight you still remind me of
my mother’s old fragrance
though you too have your different scent –
a scent entirely your own!

In summer, an aroma of apple juice
envelopes your breasts. In monsoon,
the wet fragrance of wild forest flowers
in your hair. And in the winter,
your arms smacking of honeyed milk
and your lovely feet of jasmines. In spring,
this strong odour of musk in your loins,
and in your navel that faint lavender!

In different seasons, you smell differently.
In different places, you smell differently.

But when I smell you entirely at once,
my love,
your scent becomes
an undefinable something!

-Dr Tapan Kumar Pradhan

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Sheherazade Becomes Marginal in a Society that Embraces Apathy

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When you live in a society where shallowness is embraced, there will be a mass following of people who imitate shallowness.

You see, the elite can only thrive with a mass following, by creating a mass appeal, popularity.

The merciless thrive by exploiting the basic human desires, and brand their strategies with the facade of “love” or “humanity.”

This shallowness is a form of turbulence — keeping us distracted, distancing us from Light.

Light can seem invisible with turbulent vision; yet the wise know Light continues to radiate in full spectra in undetected forms.

The wise know to be wary of “charming” promises, as Plato says “Things are not what they appear.”

It is only those placed in liminal states who are able to contrast between discourses.

But you see, our state of being is not a static entity. Circumstances can harden us, circumstances can soften us —

Can one be so optimistic these days?

Something new is occurring in human history, with humans being hardened into objects, irreversibly.

Resistance is strategically kept powerless and marginal.

If only Foucault was alive to see his biopolitics now.

The once optimistic feeling of softening the soul is being negated in a new social transformation who’s future is unknown.

Long ago, Sheherazade softened the heart of King Shariyar. But this was a time when the art of wisdom was embraced by the ruling elite.

Once, people were aware of the dehumanization resulting from objectification.

An objectified human becomes inanimate, lacking substance — yet this obsolescence is embraced!

Now, increasingly, the art of wisdom is silenced, and instead ‘information’ prevails.

Modern education is information, not knowledge — and the marginal are drowning.

A life of simulated shallowness, avarice and merciless individualism is propagated as “the promise” and masks the greedy profit that lies underneath

I have softened the hearts of many men. Though, I am limited in the abundance of human drones.

A drone is taught to valorise surfaces only, like the body; it cannot detect the emotional depth of the soul.

How foolish of me to consider myself a Sheherazade in a society that is morally bankrupt!

You see, in a world where shallowness prevails, the shallow ideals will be rewarded.

Oh, the days when I was an object, I only attracted objects!

Oh, I am fully aware, that if I transformed myself into a walking simulation of stupidity (a shapely ass and big pair of tits as my sole identity), then I will reign popularity.

But you see, now, I refuse to be an inanimate object.

How could anyone be an object once they’ve reached their soul?

I speak in a language that cannot be comprehended so easily,

it will only resonate by those immersed in Love.

My silence speaks this language.

My God, I am so thankful You reign in my heart, radiating Your Beauty

The burning of my heart keeps me from solidifying into a cold, hardened object. I’m melting in Your bliss.

Love will shine, it radiates in all forms to those whose surfaces are still permeable.

-Myself

*The tale of Scheherazade is symbolic in showcasing that wisdom is what makes a human worthy of being. Scheherazade changed King Shahriyar’s murderous vengence towards women, and inevitably softened his heart. How? She used her wisdom, her knowledge — she was not simply an object. The symbolism has relevance to today’s context: When a human is simply an object, devoid of inner depth, they become perceived as insignificant, disposable as an inanimate object. Sadly, it has become a trend in modern societies for people to identify in objectifying manners, thereby neglecting the ripening of their inner beings. This trend is a reflection of the ‘popular’ social values that are advertised by all forms of media/social media. 

___________

set free

“They have taken us prisoners,

They’ve locked us up.

But that’s nothing…

The worst

is when people –knowingly or not —

carry prison inside themselves”

-Nizam Hikmet

(trans. Sisir Kumar Das 378)

___________

Do Panjereh

(…)

always been a distance

between your hands and mine.

always with this bitterness

our days and nights have passed.

 *

there is not a very long distance between us, but

(even this short distance) seems so far.

the only connection between you and me

is the kind caressing hands of wind.

*

we are forced to stay captive.

we will stay captive as long as we live.

for us the only way to freedom is death.

as soon as we are set free, we will die.

*

Oh, I wish this wall would fall down

so that you and me will die together

and in another world

we will be able to hold hands, be together.

may be in that other world,

the pain of shunning and hatred wont exists in hearts.

(may be in that new world) between their windows

wont be any barrier of walls.

-Googoosh

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Three Years Of Escort Diary

Old Man: “From the hot fire of being apart, comes the flame that burns the heart”

Lateef: “That was beautiful, you speak very well.”

Old Man: “These are words from the heart, my son”

-Dialogue from the film Baran (2001).

courtesan-dressingI started this blog three years ago. I started it during an important change in my life. I had just left my engagement. I had just immersed myself into the realm of working independently for the first time, without knowing what to expect. I was also a full-time University student. Three years later, I claim myself as a high-end courtesan, and strangely enough I feel a similar emptiness that I experienced when I started this blog three years ago. But much has changed indeed.

It would be incorrect to say that I’ve been empty and sad continuously. A prostitutes life and experiences witnesses an amalgam of emotions; nothing is static. In the past three years, there has been happiness and many blessings, and I’ve had many beautiful experiences. I am very thankful for them. My heart was grasped by my great lover, the Sheik, whom I wrote about in these past years. And as I had written, our love did eventually hit a brick wall, shattering our hearts. Wounds remain fresh. Burning, I am trying to see the beauty in this pain. For the moment, I honor this love by lonesome tears, finding the torment of separation unbearable, hopeless at times. The beautiful memories are starting to become clouded amongst the pain. And worst, I never showed any sorrow outwardly. Strangely enough, I concealed all of my pain with the facade of pride, thereby masking the tears of honor. In hopeless moments, I wanted all the love to turn into hate. But the truth remains in the heart. God only knows the extent of my heart, the honoring of love through tears.

Here is an incomplete poem I wrote a while ago: 

In the midst of helplessness, I sought to destroy my image.

Perhaps intentionally, I destroyed myself before your eyes,

Tarnishing your perception of my beauty, my grace,

Converting the good memories into hate, regret, despair.

But my intentions were for the sake of survival,

So that you can feel no remorse, so you forget my beauty, forget our bliss.

You can say, “She never loved me. She only loved money. She is happy selling herself. She has other men in her life.”

I painted this false impression.

Yes, in my state of helplessness, I wanted you to believe these things, so you feel no guilt.

For hating me will make your life easier rather than seeing that I loved you with all my heart and life.

Though silent and concealed, God only knows the extent of my honor,

The secrets lay concealed in my heart.

______________________

For this post, I will share some meaningful, poetic lyrics to a song:

madhubala-tawaif

Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya  – When we love, why should we fear?

The following lyrics are from the masterpiece film Mughal E Azam (1960) which is filled with the most enriching Urdu dialogue and songs. The film depicts the legend of Anarkali, the tragic tale of the Mughal Prince Salim and his love Anarkali, a courtesan. In the film, Anarkali sings the song Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya to defend her love with Prince Salim, and also to defend the honesty of her heart (she was accused of deceit). By revealing her heart in this song, she was risking her own life. Her honest heart lead to her imprisonment.  Her love, Prince Salim, also endured all the punishments for the sake of their love. For as the song says, “We have only loved, why should we be afraid?” The Urdu lyrics are powerful and expressed so beautifully. Visually, I love watching the actress Madhubala performs this song so eloquently. Here is a translation of the lyrics:

It is but once that man falls in love with another

In anguish he lives, in anguish he dies

When we have loved, why should we fear?

We have loved, not committed a theft

We have only loved

Why should we be afraid?

I’ll reveal today the secrets that stay in my heart

Death is what the world witnesses

What good is dying a death of sufferance like this?

We have loved, why should we fear?

In desire of him, I shall burn

For love, I shall live

For love, I shall die

Nothing more is my will

Now that I am in love, why must I fear?

Our love will not remain hidden

Everywhere around us are stories of our love

There is nothing that separates us from God

Why should we create barriers between humans?

We have loved, why should we fear?

Watch Madhubala’s beautiful performance of Pyaar Kiya To Darna Kya in Mughal E Azam:

On a final note, here is another powerful line that is attributed to Anarkali:

While flowers wither away, “Thorns live not in fear of wilting”

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Sacred Bond

flame

 

In our love, I burn.

As I am now the moth, burning in the flame.

In this pain, let me endure the fire.

As the flames only reveal your beauty further.

Thus, I shall not seek pity,

As the greatest pleasure is worth all the pain of the heart.

But the heart does not die, like the perishable body.

Our love was ihsan,

a way of experiencing the glory of Holiness

The meaning of life,

As nothing is no longer comparable.

We reached the zenith of love, immersed together as one.

I burn now, longing for this beauty of Union.

Even in separation of our bodies,

Hearts hold on.

You are always in my heart, even though no longer physically there.

And when this physical life is over,

the journey, once unclear, becomes fully understood.

You were there, all along.

And thus, this pain is to be honored.

As love is God’s beauty.

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Fruit Fly

Image

As I tidy my kitchen, I gaze at the fruit flies devouring the juices of my leftover fruits and drops of honey that seeped out of its container…

Isn’t it a marvel of how when something oozes beyond it’s confinements it provokes an attraction; separate entities become bonded as one by this irresistible liquid. For a quick second, I applied this metaphor to our bodies — oozing of fragrant juices, seeping out….ready to ignite the attraction of another. It doesn’t require further explanation as to why some lovers have referred to the valley between one’s thighs as ‘honey’…honey that drips for a purpose.

One day, my lover asked me, “How did these (fruit) flies get here?”

I live high-up, where little buggers cannot reach such heights. Only when the nectar of these fruits seep out do I see these flies appear from who-knows-where….

How is it they, these little buggers, can detect this sweet, juicy nectar from so far away, from so high above the earth?

It’s the simplest, most majestic manifestation of beauty — this magnetic-like desire to feast on delicious juices …that require far journey’s and distances, and, perhaps, even self-annihilation to attain such bliss. After all, the poor little fruit flies are very susceptible to fatality (via human annoyance) during the quest of their desire.

My little fruit fly, once so devoted to it’s nectar…..completely seduced by the scent, taste, feel, the beauty of the sweet nectar that continuously seeps out, that awaits.

Sadly, like the moth gets burned by it’s attraction to the flame, a little fruit flies intense devotion for nectar was cut short and zapped dead.

I understand the longing…..the devotion to an unknown fate….such beauty is worth all of one’s life.

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It’s not obvious, but …

bw

This soft haven that I am, created and sold, has a history…

It repulses some, excites others… or perhaps both.

How many …

..tongues have searched the skin..

.. times has hot arousal of another poured onto the breasts, the tummy, the posterior…or inside..

..insatiable mouths have tasted the slippery arousal seeping from warm areas..

Just how many phallus have entered me?

Many..

..brands of saliva have coated me..

..fingerprints lay evidence to this sensual past.

These nipples, loved and suckled by countless lips and mouths; cuffed by endless fingers and hands

Yet nobody would guess that this body has been on all fours or on its back spread for countless men.

Every inch of my body has been discovered, yet only one conquered it to render me powerless.

And I think to myself, would the conqueror even know the title of having conquered such a popular destination?

I hide it all so well, this history which only I know.

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