In English we say :
possessiveness
But in urdu we say :
“Nahin pasand mohabbat mein milaawat mujh ko,
Agar wo mera hai toh khwaab bhi mere dekhe”.

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In English we say :
possessiveness
But in urdu we say :
“Nahin pasand mohabbat mein milaawat mujh ko,
Agar wo mera hai toh khwaab bhi mere dekhe”.
Time may seal the scar but not the memory of what caused it.
Zakhm theek ho jane se haadse nahi bhoola karte...
"tumne shayad galati se dhund liya tha mujhe,
tumhe talaash kisi aur ki thi"
log toot jaate hain ek ghar banane mein
tum taras nahin khaate bastiyaan jalane mein
Bashir Badr
Gregory Orr, from ‘Orpheus & Eurydice: A Lyric Sequence’
To guide someone
through the halls of hell
is not the same as love.
Margaret Atwood, from The Collected Poems; “Dream 2: Brian The Still-Hunter,”
-Shiv Kumar
Zante, Greece
#where’s 👏 that 👏 life 👏 changing 👏 field 👏 trip
BONG JOON-HO accepting Best Foreign Language Film at the 77th Golden Globe Awards for PARASITE
Nanak* - by Jaswant Singh Zafar
Forgive me,
It’s quite hard for us
To bring to mind the true picture of Nanak.
Legs dirty with the dust of winding paths,
Cracked heels,
Dry beard, tangled by the turbulent wind,
Skin toughened by extreme hot and cold weather,
Sunken cheeks,
And from the sockets of his face,
dazzling and sharp eyes.
Eyes which refute
Hierarchy
Monarchy
And clergy.
The real Nanak can be proven to be very dangerous for us.
We cannot bring to mind the image of such a Nanak
Who can shatter homely institutions
Can spoil our kids
Can point his feet towards the Kaaba
And lay in the circumambulation area to make a point,
Can make our legs be fractured or chopped,
And may instigate us for many more deeds that seem wrong.
For instance,
We can see the hollowness of religious symbolism,
We can create a manifesto to divert superstitions
And break societal constructs.
We are wary of this dangerous Nanak,
All we want is benevolence, comfort, tranquility.
We need luxurious graces,
A flourishing family tree,
And subsequent wealth.
For us, the Nanak of Sobha Singh’s paintings suits best,
Tranquil, meditative,
Hand raised in blessing, like the goddess Lakshmi,
Ensuing grace from his palm,
Eyes overflowing with genteel grace,
White Sunsilky beard,
Chubby pink cheeks, Fair and Lovely,
Rosy Tipsy lips,
Soft Gemini feet,
Delicate Barbie hands,
Prophetic robs, cleaned with Ariel.
The walls of our homes
Can only hold Nanak’s Sobha Singh depiction.
The true image of the dangerous Nanak that rejected the mainstream,
Our walls cannot bear.
Forgive me,
We cannot afford to lose our houses that we we killed ourselves to make,
We cannot afford to lose the children we begged from God,
We cannot bring to mind the image of the real Nanak.
Forgive me.
*English translation from original Punjabi poem
ਦੁਨੀਆ ਦੇ ਭਰਮਾਂ ਨੂੰ ਸੱਚ ਮੰਨ ਕੇ ਬਹਿ ਗਏ ਆਂ ਜਿਹੜੀ ਦੌੜ ਨੇ ਮੁੱਕਣਾ ਨਈਂ ਉਸ ਦੌੜ ‘ਚ ਪੈ ਗਏ ਆਂ ਅਸੀਂ ਸਭ ਕੁਝ ਜਾਣ ਲਿਆ ਤੇ ਸਾਨੂੰ ਕੁਝ ਵੀ ਨਈਂ ਪਤਾ
- Harmanjeet, Vairaag De Parbat
“For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life…”
— Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes (via theclassicsreader)
~visual poetry artbook
Van gogh museum, Amsterdam.