Main Kaisa Mussalman Hoon Bhai (What Sort of a Muslim Am I?) - a translation.

Main Kaisa Mussalmaan Hoon Bhai?
Poet : Hussain Haidry
Watch on Youtube a rendition of the same in the original Hindustani.

Sadak pe cigarrete peete waqt joh azaan sunaee di mujhko Toh yaad aaya ki waqt hai kya Aur yeh baat zehan mein aayi Ki main kaisa mussalmaan hoon bhai? Main shia hoon ya sunni hoon Main khoja hoon ya bohri hoon Main gaon se hoon yah shehri hoon Main baaghi hoon yah sufi hoon Main quomi hoon yah dhongi hoon Main kaisa mussalmaan hoon bhai. Main sajda karnewaala hoon Ya jhatka khanewaala hoon Main topi pehanke phirta hoon Ya daadhi udaake ke rehta hoon Main aayat kaul se padhta hoon Ya filmi gaane ramta hoon Main allah-allah karta hoon Ya sheikhon se ladd padta hoon Main kaisa mussalmaa hoon bhai? Main Hindustani mussalmaan hoon. Deccan se hoon, Up se hoon Bhopal se hoon, bengal se hoon,gujarat se hoon Har oonchi-neechi jaat se hoon Main hi hoon julaaha mochi bhi Main daaktar bhi hoon, darji bhi. Mujh mein Geeta ka saar bhi hai Ek Urdu ka akhbaar bhi hai. Mera ek mahina Ramzaan bhi hai Maine kiya Ganga ka snaan bhi hai. Apne hi taur se jeeta hoon Ek doh cigarette bhi peeta hoon Koi neta nas nas mein nahi Koi party ke bas mein nahin Main Hindustaani mussalmaan hoon. Khooni darwaaja mujh mein hai Ek bhool-bhulaiyya mujh mein hai Main babri ja ek gumbad hoon Main shehar ke beech ek sarhad hoon Jhuggiyon mein palti gurbat main Madrasson mein palti cheechat Main Dangon mein bhadakta shola main Kurte pe khoon ka dhabba main Main Hindustani mussalmaan hoon. Mandir ki chaukhat meri hai Mashid ke kible mere hain Gurdwaare ka darbaar mera Yeshughar ke girje mere hain Sau mein se chaudaah hoon lekin Chaudaahi kam nahin padhte Main poore sau mein basta hoon Poore sau mujhmein baste hain Mujhe ek nazar se dekh na tu Mere ek nahin sau chehre hain Sau rang ke hain kirdaar mere Saukalam se likhi kahaani hoon Main jitna mussalmaan hoon bhai Main utna hindustaani hoon Main Hindustaani mussalmaan hoon.

On the street as I smoked a cigarette, Heard the muezzin’s call for prayer, It struck me the hour of the day, Also a motherhood question pray, What sort of a Muslim was I? Am I a shia or a sunni? Am I a khoja or a bohra? Am I from the village or the city? Am I a rebel or a sufi? Am I a commoner or an impersonator? I am a Muslim of what sort? Am I one to offer devotion? Or one to suffer dissonance? Do I wear the skull cap and roam? Or make merry with my beard shorn? Do I read hymns from the Koran? Or sing tunes of Hindi film songs? Do I immerse myself in Allah’s name? Or argue with the sheikhs on a whim? I am a Muslim of what sort? I’m a Muslim the Indian kind. I am from the Deccan and from U.P I am from Bhopal and from M.P From Bengal and Gujarat, Higher and lower class too, I am a sweeper and cobbler, I am a doctor and weaver, I carry in me the Gita’s teachings, An Urdu newspaper &; its preachings, Set aside for me the month of Ramzaan Dipped in the Ganges, as well for my sins, I live by my rules,  Smoke a cigarette or two, No politics in my blood stream No party has control over me, I’m a Muslim, the Indian kind! Inside me is a blood-soaked door, Inside of me is a maze dour I am the minaret of the Babri, I am the border inside a city, In hutments I am the diffidence In seminaries I am the teaching In riots I am the flickering flame The blot of red on a shirt stained I’m a Muslim, the Indian kind! The quadrangle of the temple is mine, The square of the mosque I enshrine, The hall of the Gurdwara embraced, The bells of the church resonate in me. I am only 14 out of a 100 yet, 14 though is not one bit less, I make the 100 all complete, I carry the 100 within me, Don’t you look at me singularly, For I take 100 faces and shapes, 100 colorful characters do I make, Am a story scripted by 100 pens, As much a Muslim am I, The same much an Indian am I, I’m a Muslim, the Indian kind!

An Eye for the Relevant

"Awareness is important,
For it has a bearing,
On the immediate & distant.
Pick up your bows,
Archers, step up as I call,
But first, answer me my question."

Along came Durya,
First of the Kauravas,
An ace of weaponry.
Yodhana the warrior,
Puffed chest, he strode,
All pomp and show.

He took position, beside his bow.
'You see what, Prince?'
The Acharya, whispered.
'The tree, leaves & birds,
Branches, twigs et al,
Awareness extreme, I see all!'

Drona nodded gravely,
'Step down Prince,
A lesson's still undone!'
Trooped up & down, the princes,
Unable to satisfy the master,
Kaurava, Pandava, others.

Finally Drona called upon,
Arjuna the archer, ever dutiful,
His favorite pupil, sharply mindful.
He eased into a stance.
'What do you see Prince?'
Drona whispered, giving him chance.

'See an eye, is all'
Drona sought to distract,
'No leaves, twigs et al?'
'For your call, am ready,
Arjuna sees what he sees',
Pleased Acharya asked him to go!

The arrow zinged from the bow,
Clean through the clay eye of,
A parrot on a tree yonder.
To the lost students,
Chance begone, bit crestfallen.
'So then princes' advised Drona.

"The lesson of the day
Was not in shooting,
But in un-recognizing.
Awareness, while good,
Most of the time,
In life what matters is,

Simplicity & focus,
Clarity & aim,
Uncluttered zeal,
Stillness of gaze.
Important of all,
An Eye for the Relevant!"

Leftovers

the prompt was "Leftovers" with a 1000 char limit :

"Look Mother, what I have brought" Arjuna said, calling out to Kunti, the Pandava’s mother, having won Draupadi from amongst a court full of suitors, piercing the eye of a fish atop a circling wagon-wheel with a single arrow.

“Share it equally with your brothers” she said. To the five brothers, her pronouncements were above negotiation.

‘Impossible and improbable!’ said Bheema, always the one with the quick temper,

‘Doesn’t Draupadi have a say in all this?’ asked Nakul the first half of the twins of Madri.

‘Krishna, I am all ears. I would like to see you sell this one to me!’ said Draupadi to the great advisor of the Pandavas, sure nothing would come of this preposterous ask.

“Well it really is of your own doing. The fulfillment of a boon from a previous birth and penance. Lord Shiva had appeared before you and granted a wish. You wanted to be married to someone with five specific qualities. Each time you asked for that quality, the Lord had said Tathaastu – So Be It! He added, such a thing was possible only when the Pandavas were born, which is your current birth!’

‘Ah so this is a fulfillment of leftovers from a previous birth?’

‘Indeed my pretty one. The great cosmic reconciliation of accounts,' said Krishna knowingly.

Waqt Ne Kiya

Film: KAAGAZ KE PHOOL

Lyrics : Kaifi Azmi

Music : SD Burman
Singer : Geeta Dutt

Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam Tum Rahe Na Tum, Hum Rahe Na Hum Beqaraar Dil Iss Tarah Mile Jis Tarah Kabhi, Hum Juda Na The Tum Bhi Kho Gaye, Hum Bhi Kho Gaye Ek Raah Par Chal Ke Do Qadam Jaayenge Kahan, Soojhta Nahin Chal Pade Magar Raasta Nahin Kya Talaash Hai, Kuchh Pata Nahin Bun Rahe Hain Dil, Khwaab Dum-B-Dum

वक़्त ने किया क्या हंसीं सितम तुम रहे न तुम हम रहे न हम बेक़रार दिल इस तरह मिले जिस तरह कभी हम जुदा न थे तुम भी खो गए, हम भी खो गए एक राह पर चलके दो क़दम जाएंगे कहाँ सूझता नहीं चल पड़े मगर रास्ता नहीं क्या तलाश है कुछ पता नहीं बुन रहे हैं दिल ख़्वाब दम-ब-दम

Time will do this, Treachery sublime, You’ll steadily change, Me too, I don’t remain. Fluttering Hearts do Mate in trepidation, As though we ne’er were, Ever in separation. You are pretty lost, Better I fare not, On a lonesome path, Couple of steps along. This journey wherefore, Undecided, unknown, Hardily we set out, On roads unmade yet. That which we seek, Unfound, Undefined, As our hearts stitched, Dreams beat by beat.

When my younger daughter created the above art, which she calls the "Ramayana Cards" series I was inspired to pen the below. Read on......

Out of the ground she came,

A 'child of the soil' fame,

Ideal daughter to a king,

Picked an excellent suitor, from a ring.

'Twas fun with him for years,

Until banishment with her dears,

Forest life was long and hard,

No distress, all a lark. 

Then events her bro-in-law spun,

Caused a brother to seek revenge,

A learned man, otherly wise,

Turned a rakshasa with premise!

Against her will & by force,

Abducted, taken to a faraway shore,

A captive, hunted by loved ones, 

Was sullied but not yet broken.

Purushottam, for the rescue gathered,

A ragtag band of devoted followers,

Much, much before Helen of Troy,

An army had launched for Sita Mai!

A war was waged and roundly won,

Seemingly whole, Mai came home,

Summarily her chastity was questioned,

A trial by fire cruelly summoned.

Here's how the story should've turned,

A different route, need to have taken,

Instead of quiet and uncontested submission,

Societal boors should've rebelled against.

Tossed her mysteriously demure nature,

Finally rethought her trial by feuer?

Been long, since being carried away

Stepped upto claim, what's rightfully hers.

This card represents the tough one,

Someone that wont take it lying down,

She's the Mai the world needs now,

Sita redrawn, repainted and reborn!

Celebrating Individual Strengths Collectively is Diversity

i was asked to contribute an article for a neighborhood magazine on what diversity means to me. Here's what I wrote :

At the peril of falling prey to clichés, let me open by saying I claim no expertise to what it means to be a diverse individual, but will attempt to put forth what it means to me.
We were one of the first to move into the Ryland built set of homes. From the time our foundation was laid to the time we moved in, we have witnessed wonderful neighbors move in around us. We have enjoyed with them bonfires, wine parties, weekend evening revelries and the odd graduation party. Every instance is a learning when you have the opportunity to interact with a diverse set of people. Every interaction is a story and anecdote you store away for a later recall.
The more one travels, the more one realizes that people truly are the same everywhere, regardless of the language one speaks, follows a faith, has a skin tone/color and preference of sexual orientation. At the bottom of everything are some basic needs that have to be fulfilled universally. Hunger and thirst are the same, the need to provide for loved ones is the same, the sense of right and wrong is the same. If we could perhaps uncouple all the rest of the many man made complications down to some of these basic things, one would think it would be easy to get along, no?
The word diversity is so commonly used these days, our collective consciousness seems to have become desensitized to what perhaps it should truly mean. Diversity is not limited to color, or gender or sexual orientation. Diversity is also being able to co-exist with different thoughts and agree to disagree. It means providing the best chance for each one of us to excel in what we do the best. Being our best at what we do allows in us an ability to see the best in others. Diversity has no place for one-upmanship, just healthy acknowledgement of every strength that should be collectively celebrated.
 In that spirit our experience after we have moved into Cobblestone has been that which we would like to keep very simple. Respect every individual for their intellect, allow room for sharing which can never be a one-way street and embrace differences as an addendum to what we were hitherto unaware of. We believe this is what keeps our neighborhood bubbling, effervescent and exciting. More power to such microcosms, that hopefully leads to a larger sage macrocosm!

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