Dil Hi to Hai: It’s my heart, my sorrow – Let me cry a thousand times over (Ghalib, who else!)

I love your translation and explanation!

frosted+glass

If the deep sadness in one’s heart, unrequited love would be a piece of cloth, then Mirza Ghalib has pulled every single thread out of it and painted with the deepest of his emotions. Although I have felt the deepest sadness from “Ye na thi hamari qismat”, this one’s on special request from the most special person in my life. What I like about “Dil hi to hai”, is (apart from the lyrical genius of Ghalib, which is unparalleled) the way it is composed and sung by Nawabjaan in Gulzar’s serial. The slight sense of enthusiasm and resignation (a touching paradox) juxtaposed gives it an almost dreamy feeling. That to me is so quintessentially Ghalib – in the deepest sadness, when it has so much become a part of you, you forget the sorrow for a moment. He sums it all so well in another one liner of his:

Mushqilein hum…

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Undecided

Have no idea what I am writing or why probably not even going to complete it!! Forgive my mistakes Just something I wanted to write, its been a long time …

    The year is 2080 in a small village on the outskirts of Muzaffarabad near the river Neelum, it is the mind of a cold bitter winter in the month of April. Over the past decades, the drastic shift in climate has pushed the months in which seasons occur. Ali is a gym instructor in the local college of the village, he is strong, tall, quiet man with green eyes and short hair. Ali is a retired captain of the Pakistan Army. He was honourably discharged after Jammu & Kashmir became an independent state in the year 2075. Ali decided that he wanted to spend the rest of his life in Kashmir although that for the most of his youth all he had desired was to serve in the Pakistan Army. It occurred to him finally when Kashmir was moments away from becoming a free state that he no longer felt the same way and realized that his true calling was his homeland.

 

    Kashmir became independent on 10th, July in 2075 after decades-long struggles by the people and the international community. In 2071, India and Pakistan military forces were ordered out of the occupied territories of J&K and AJK. Gilgit & Baltistan according to the negotiations was not included in this agreement. This didn’t happen overnight, it was the duty of established UN Peacekeeping force to one by one replace and discharge both Pakistan and Indian military bases, barrack and posts one by one. This was completed only after 21 long months and at this point, in time the region of Kashmir was occupied by the UN. The referendum elections were scheduled to take place on July 10th, 2075 and the result of the elections was to determine if the Kashmir would be a part of Pakistan, India or remain Independent. In the case, the people would choose India or Pakistan the armed forces of that country would regain power and establish its rule. But that did not happen and Kashmiris elected to be an independent state.

    After its independence with the help of the international community, Kashmiris were successful in holding the general election and appointing a newly elected government to rule the country. This was not something that was a shock to the world that Kashmir became an Independent state. The threats of nuclear war between Pakistan and India had died off years ago when technology was able to solve much of the problems of the modern world. In fact, India and Pakistan had finally come to its senses to solve this problem once and for all. The countries in the world no longer had powerful governments or dictatorships. Much of government became redundant and technology took most of its place.

 

    In the current world, governments have much more limited powers, most decisions are made by computer programs. For Example, the budgets of countries are not decided by politicians but by intelligent computer programs that make decisions based on data collected from the entire country that is stored on a central blockchain. Most of the bureaucracy has disappeared and the only role human government officials play is to maintain, improve foreign relations and direct military. Some countries still were involved in conflict but much of war had ended in the world and no longer was something that was desirable. Central banks and International banking cartels had been long destroyed and institutions no longer existed that could profit from war. India had come a long way and was at the forefront of all this, it was India that finally deemed it necessary that the Kashmir issue is resolved as it didn’t have much interest in the region anymore. India was more interested in space exploration and colonization of mars along with the USA. Pakistan also on the other had made great progress and didn’t hesitate to let Kashmir become a free state. The world was a much better place and the society at large had changed a lot thanks to advancement in technology. The root of all problems did not lie in religion, politicians or government it was all hunger, poverty and disease. With the help of technology when all this disappeared the world slowly moulded into a utopian paradise.

 

    Ali was sitting near the bank of the river Neelum skipping stones, he was recollecting good days he had spent in the Pakistan Army with his friends. Ali never joined the Jammu Kashmir Army he felt that is was not in best interest. Ali would often drive back to Pakistan to visit his friends, the borders on both sides were open. The subcontinent had become like Europe with open borders and no conflict. While sitting by the river Ali noticed something weird on the river bank. It was some sort of round shaped gadget that had no buttons or screen on it. Ali with curiosity pointed his mobile camera to find a match for the object. Surprisingly for the first time in his life Ali got no result for an object he was scanning. AI and machine learning had become so powerful that any object or person you put your camera one, one would get all the information he would need. A gadget that has no information about it on the internet Ali thought to himself. That is impossible, how could that be? Ali took the object along with him to his house and left it on his desk next to his bed. Ali went to sleep and woke after a long nap, he went into to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for himself. Ali was married and had two kids but they were away attending a wedding. Ali hated weddings he even hated his own wedding day, he hated places where too many people were gathered together. Ali picked up the gadget again and started violently shaking it so maybe he could hear something inside. But there was nothing, he didn’t want to waste his time to try to open and examine the object so he took a walk to the market to have it looked at by a close friend of his Raza. Raza who owned a drone delivery service and operated all over Muzaffarabad District. He was having all his drones replaced with better less noisy drones that could also carry more weight and fly longer distances without being charged …………

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You are beautiful. And, this is my confession.

I found her-
Somewhere in this world.

I only watched, silent,
and i somehow changed.

Her sorrow,
feels like a cold winter night, spent in loneliness.
But her joy, is the rising of the warm winter sun.

As my eyes slide away from her to look at the world,
I notice the air has taken her scent,
and the sight has taken her color.

You are beautiful.
And, this is my confession.

By: Khawaja Hamad

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I walk With the moon ….

I walk with the moon and I talk to the stars,
I fly with fireflies and live with my scars.

I mend broken flowers for living and I listen to the night breeze,
I sing to the sea and with my sorrows come to appease.

It seems as if I have lived in this darkness for so long,
I have forgotten how to translate right from wrong.

Saqi ! tonight measure this ocean with your wine,
Separate my tears from the salt and draw a line.

Oh Beloved ! Open your eyes again as I search for a lost soul,
This may be to you Just another dark night, but to me it is a black hole.

BY : Khawaja Hamad

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Let the flowers be filled with color

Let the flowers be filled with color,
Let the first soft breeze of the spring flow.

Do come over,
So the garden can get on with it’s daily business.

Let the flowers be filled with color,
Let the first soft breeze of the spring flow.

Gloom reigns in the cage,
My friends do say something to the breeze,
Somewhere, For God’s sake,
There must be discussion about the Beloved today.

Do come over,
So the garden can get on with it’s daily business.

Let the flowers be filled with color,
Let the first soft breeze of the spring flow.

 

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

 

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Road Trip

 

Germany, Switzerland, Italy and Austria. +2500 KM drive into count less small villages, towns and big cities. Just a few Images from my road trip, I am not much of a  photographer and like to enjoy the moments, rather than to be worried about taking pictures like most people seem to these days.

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I am …

I am a shattered firefly , I am a misspelled word, I am a poet insane,
Who will tell me my script? I am a writer in Pain.

I am a misplaced dream, I am an irretrievable tear, I am the ecstasy betrayed,
Who will guide me to shore? I am a sailor astray.

I am an unheard voice, I am a forgotten song, I am the dance ignored,
Who will listen to me ? I am a drinker absorbed.

I am a broken heart, I am a lost traveler, I am a searching soul,
Who will tell me my way? I am a lover in despair.

BY: Khawaja Hamad

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Travel

Hi, it’s been a great pleasure sharing my poetry and travels with all of you on WordPress. I am extremely sorry that I have not been able to reply to comments and be more interactive on this blog. All your comments, love and support for my poetry on this blog has really motivated to keep on writing, I am very grateful to all of you. Thank you!

I have recently been unable to write much poetry as I have been caught up in this materialistic world we live in and haven’t gotten to travel as much because of work & other problems. I am a Software Engineer by profession and will most likely end up writing more Code than Poetry in my lifetime.

For me to write poetry I need some form of inspiration which usually comes from listening to music or reading other poets, Programming doesn’t help at all. But the soul and one’s imagination is truly opened to writing meaningful poetry when one is able to travel and experience nature. Poetry is written from the bottom of the heart and It is either Travelling or Wine that is mostly responsible for unleashing a poet’s true ability to write.

Good News is that Hopefully I will be travelling across Europe in a couple of days and will be able to get back to my natural state of; peace of mind and soul. Then be able to write more poems. I think I will not be able to blog during my trip and will most likely compose new blog posts when I come back to the States. That is why if you wish you can follow me on snapchat or Instagram where I will be sharing my travels more often.

Instagram: khawajahamad217

Snapchat: khawajahamad

Goodbye!

 

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Sangam

From the city hidden behind a hundred mountains,
At the bank of Jhelum as I stand,
I write a poem for my dear homeland.

I dream of moments that bring me back to such a time,
I dream of me at the top of a mountain, sitting next to a sufi shrine.

I yearn the rivers that run through the city, like the desire for freedom,
runs through our blood,
I yearn a gardened red fort for the night, rain such, making the earth become mud.

I remember you in every unfulfilled season I experience in exile,
In every journey I take, all distances I cover, every mile.

The soft wind is calling for me, Beloved don’t close your eyes,
Just a few more moments, we will meet again near Sangam at sunrise.

BY : Khawaja Hamad

Sangam : Specifically referring to location where river Neelum and Jhelum meet in Muzaffarabad City. Two things meeting one another is known as sangam.
Red fort : A fort located near the banks of Neelum river in Muzaffarabad, Kashmir.
Jhelum: One of the many rivers that flow through Kashmir.
Sufi Shrine: Referring to Peerchanasi in Muzaffarabad, that beds the shrine of sufi Pir Shah Hussain Bukhara. 

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