Tuesday, 19 April 2016

Waqt . . . What is Time by Javed Akhtar


Watch Waqt by Javed Akhtar

Thought provoking poetry by Javed Akhtar  . . . Waqt

English Translation 

What is time? 
What is this thing that goes on without pause? 
If it did not pass, 
Then where could it have been? 
It must have been somewhere. 
It has passed. 
So where is it now? 
It must be somewhere. 
Where did it come from? Where did it go? 
Where did the process start? Where will it end? 
What is time? 
These events
Incidents
Conflicts
Every grief
Every joy
Every torment
Every pleasure
Every smile
Every tear
Every song
Every scent, 
It may be the pain of a wound
Or the magic of a tender touch, 
Or lonely voice or cries around; 
Success and failures assailing the mind; 
The upheavals of care, the tumult of the heart. 
All feelings
All emotions
Are like leaves
Floating on the surface of the water. 
As they swim along
Now here, 
Now there, 
And now they disappear, 
Gone from site, but
There must be something
Flowing along. 
What is this river? 
What hills has it come from? 
To what sea is it going? 
What is time?

Tuesday, 12 April 2016













Watch Beth Jata Hun Mitti Pe Aksar

A wonderful poem about Life Dear Life whose Author we are still researching; however recited by one of the finest voices . . . Syed Jassim Ali with poetic visuals . . . Enjoy!
Poem Beth Jata Hun Mitti Pe Aksar
Poet Under Research
Voiceover Artist Syed Jassim Ali
Actor (Stills) Courtesy of Mikaal Zulfiqar
Produced & Edited by Tahira Rana

Poem in Roman Urdu

Beth jata hun mitti pe aksar,
Kyun ke mujhy apni auqat achi lagti hai…
Maine…
Samandar se seekha hai jeenay ka saliqa,
Chup chap se behna,
our apni mauj mai rehna…
Aesa Nahi hai ke mujh mai koi aeb nahi hai,
Par sach kehta hun!
Mujh mai koi faraib nahi hai…
Jal jatay hain meray andaz se meray dushman!
Kyun ke ek muddat se maine,
Na mohabbat badli,
Aur na dost badly…
Ek ghari khareed kar hath mai kya bandhli,
Waqt peechay hi parh gaya meray..
Sochta tha!
Ghar bana kar rahunga sukun se,
Par ghar ki zarurton ne musafir bana dala…
Sukun ki Baat mat kar ae “GHALIB“,
Bachpan wala itwar ab nahi ata…
Shouq tou Maa Baap ke paison se puray hotay hain,
Apnay paison se tou bas!
Zarurtain hi puri hopati hain…
Zindagi ki bhag daur mai,
Kyun waqt ke sath rangat kho jati hai?
Hansti, khelti zindagi bhi aam hojati hai…
Ek sawera tha!
Jab hans ke uthtay thay hum,
Aur aaj!
Kai Baar!
Bina muskurae hi shaam hojati hai…
Kitnay Durr nikal gye,
Rishton ko nibhatay nibhatay,
Khud ko kho dia hum ne!
Apnon ko paatay paatay…
Log kehtay hain!
Hum muskuratay bohat hain,
Aur hum thak gye,
Dard ko chupatay chupatay…
Khush Hun!
Aur sab ko Khush Rakhnay ki Koshish Karta hun…
Laaparwa hun!
Phir bhi sab ki parwa karta hun…
Maloom hai!
Koi mol nahi mera!
Phir bhi,
Kuch anmol logon se rishay rakhta hn…

Beth jata hun mitti pe aksar,
Kyun ke mujhy apni auqat achi lagti hai…

Tuesday, 5 April 2016


Watch Poem Aye Arz-e-Watan

This short poetry film Aye Arz-e-Watan by Faiz Ahmed Faiz by Poetry in Motion is firstly, dedicated to ALL who perished in the Lahore bomb blast this Easter; in a heinous act against a nation and humanity and their distraught families left behind and secondly, it is directed to the Power’s that be, on who's watch this terrorist act occurred.

Faiz Ahmad Faiz (13 February 1911 – 20 November 1984) was a legendary Pakistani Poet.
He was a MBE, NI, Lenin Peace Prize was an influential left-wing intellectual, revolutionary poet, and one of the most highly-regarded poets of the Urdu language, having been nominated four times for the Nobel Prize for literature. A notable member of the Progressive Writers' Movement (PWM), Faiz was an avowed Marxist, for which he received the Lenin Peace Prize by the Soviet Union in 1962. His work remains influential in Pakistan Literature and Arts. Faiz's literary work was posthumously publicly honoured when the Pakistan Government conferred upon him the nation's highest civil award, Nishan-e-Imtiaz, in 1990.

Poem in Translation

O land of my birth, How many inhabitant’s blood do you want?
That may colour your colourless cheek,
How many tragic sigh’s will it take to calm you,
How many tears will it take to irrigate your deserts to flower,
In the corridors of Power how many good intentions get shred,
How many promises were made only to be broken,
How many lives were sacrificed by the evil eyes of insincere persons (politicians)
How many dreams were stoned on the highways (How many dreams are killed in the annals of power)
O land of my birth, how many inhabitant’s blood do you want, how many do you want to lessen your frenzy for blood . . .