Life Is A Joke

Friend 1: What’s life?

Friend 2: Life is a joke. You’re born, you study your whole childhood, work your whole adulthood and then die in the end. A good joke, right? So share this joke with your friends and family, hurt no one, live your joke in such a way that everyone remembers…. and laugh.

After Life

By Shayaan Khusro

 

After life, some say

Comes heaven or hell,

Some say yet another life

Among more to come,

While others claim nothing

But dust and abyss.

 

If eternal damnation is my fate then

Let your salvation be my respite.

If the cycle of rebirth is our curse

Then let’s meet again and again.

If dust is all that will be left of us

Let ours forever merge in soil.

 

For until death do us part

And after parting we will unite

This I promise you, my beloved.

What if Mother Earth is feeling suicidal?

By Shayaan Khusro

 

What if Mother Earth is feeling suicidal?

And human evolution is nothing but

The longest ongoing suicide attempt?

After all, of over eight million species

She could choose from why select the one

With no regard for her fate or wellbeing

Except to end it all in smoke and polythene?

 

But wouldn’t a comet to the surface suffice,

To end the suffering since before the age of ice?

Earth already tried that, several times in fact

Yet, except craters and dinosaurs, she is intact.

On the other hand, though slow as a snail

Mankind is a deadly poison seeping through

Air, water and land, killing one life at a time.

 

But why end a life meant to last aeons more?

Perhaps she misses her siblings Mars and Venus?

Maybe she is wary of being the only living planet

In a cold dead universe void of others like her?

Maybe she feels overwhelmed by her fate

Of being swallowed by a burning red giant.

Perhaps all of the above in varying proportions?

 

So, if Earth is depressed and committed to suicide

Should we see this euthanasia through the end

And jump onto the next ship and then another

Till all the worlds end the same way she will?

Or do we wrap Earth with trees and flowers

And give her the therapy she always required

To show her that life isn’t as woeful as it seems?

Words Don’t Flow Anymore

By Shayaan Khusro

 

At the tip of the tongue

Like my own name

But now I can’t

Recall the words anymore.

 

Once clearer than crystals

Like the truth itself,

But now the verses,

Don’t make sense anymore.

 

Ink once flowed on paper

Like a river through the plains,

But now my thoughts

Don’t flow anymore.

 

They used to hide

Like a treasure

But now meanings don’t lie

Between lines anymore.

 

Once sought after

Like an antique

But now my books

Don’t sell anymore.

 

Once refreshing

Like the morning tea

But now my sonnets

Don’t please anymore.

 

Once hummed

Like a song

But now my lines

Don’t rhyme anymore.

 

They once adorned my poems

Like paintings on a wall,

But now no metaphors

Come to mind anymore.

 

Were once played

Like a piano

But now the syllables

Don’t have rhythm anymore.

 

They once spread

Faster than rumours

But now people don’t

Recite my stanzas anymore.

 

Once stuck in the head

Like a jingle

But now my readers

Don’t know my name anymore.

 

Once put together

Like bricks in a wall,

But now my paras

Don’t stick together anymore.

 

Once crafted elegantly

Like Nadir Shah’s throne,

But now my works

Don’t employ techniques anymore.

 

Once laid out

Like a battle plan,

But now my elegies

Don’t follow directions anymore.

 

Once precise and concise

Like a bull’s eye,

But now my rants

Don’t end anymore.

The Last Play

By Shayaan Khusro

How can I smile

When my heart is bleeding

How can I rage

When I am hollow within

 

How do I monologue

When words and thoughts

War with my feelings

 

How do I walk onto the stage

Knowing this is the last time

Knowing there’s nothing afterwards

 

How can I be brave

Knowing I’ll be remembered

For how this play goes

Unsure if it’ll be loved or hated

Knowing there’ll be no chance

To correct my mistakes.

 

I can’t, I can only act

Better than I ever have

And hope that this end

Is indeed a new beginning.

Running Like the Wind

By Shayaan Khusro

Running like the wind,

Like there is no end,

Soaring like a falcon,

Roaring like a lion,

Beyond truth and lies,

My hands reached the skies,

To put it all in a gist,

Had the world in my fist,

None could stand in my ways,

Such were my childhood days.

Clay Doll

By Shayaan Khusro

 

Unsheltered, the clay doll stands outside,

It refuses to dissolve

With the monsoon that pours upon it,

It refuses to crack

When the sun scorches it bare,

It refuses to fracture

Under the chill of winter winds,

It refuses to be

Hurled away by the raging storm,

It refuses to bend

To the childish whims of men.

 

Over time the doll grows

As hard as rock,

Cold to touch,

Rigid and

Lifeless.

 

Yet an honest smile is enough

To crack the shell that

He built around himself.

Delta Of Love

By Shayaan Khusro

You may place between us,

A thousand dams and trenches,

But in the end,

The river will meet the sea,

At the salty-sweet place

called the Delta of Love.

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है

साढ़े तीन के पाँच बजा दे

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है,

पाँच के आठ बजा दे

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है।

 

चालीस के तीस रह जाते

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है,

बीस के इकतीस बन जाते

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है।

 

जनवरी से मार्च टल जाए

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है,

आखरी हफ्ते सारे आए

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है।

 

हार में मुँह लटकाए बैठना

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है,

जीत में खुशी फूले न समाना

वो भी एक आग़ाज़ है।

 

समय गुज़रते कुछ का साथ छूटा

वो अब भी आग़ाज़ है,

समय गुज़रते कुछ और आए

वो एक नया आग़ाज़ है।।

–शायान ख़ुसरो

 

Transliteration

Saadhe teen ke paanch baja de

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai,

Paanch ke aath baja de

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai.

 

Chalees ke tees reh jaate

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai,

Tees ke iktees ban jaate

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai.

 

January se March tal jaye,

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai,

Aakhri hafte saare aaye,

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai.

 

Haar mein muh latkaye baithna

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai,

Jeet mein khushi phoole na samana

Vo bhi ek Aghaaz hai.

 

Samay guzarte kuchh ka saath chhoota

Vo ab bhi Aghaaz hai,

Samay guzarte kuchh aur aaye

Vo ek naya Aghaaz hai.

-Shayaan Khusro

 

Translation

3:30pm turns to 5pm

That too is an Aghaaz,

5pm turns to 8pm

That too is an Aghaaz.

 

Thirty remain from forty

That too is an Aghaaz,

Which increases to thirty-one

That too is an Aghaaz.

 

January to March wasted

That too is an Aghaaz,

Everyone comes last week,

That too is an Aghaaz.

 

To mope about in a corner in loss

That too is an Aghaaz,

To exceed excitement in victory

That too is an Aghaaz.

 

With time some had to leave

They are still Aghaaz,

With time a few more joined in

That is a new Aghaaz.

-Shayaan Khusro

Butterfly With A Broken Wing

By Shayaan Khusro

I am a butterfly,

With a broken wing,

And even though I can’t,

I must fly,

For it is all I know,

Even though I was born,

Inside the city’s bricked bounds,

My home is the grassland outside,

So I’ll go there at all costs,

Even if it’s my last flight.

 

I had just come out of my cocoon,

Stretched my wings for the first time,

When the lizard struck,

I escaped his bite,

But my wing did not,

And since then,

I’ve been on flight,

If you can call it that,

Away from the concrete jungle,

Towards the lush fields.

 

I can barely hover,

A foot or two,

Every flap of my wings cause me agony,

I know not what will kill me first,

The birds, the lizard, the children,

Or pure exhaustion,

I know not if I will ever reach,

But to the meadows I must fly,

For even with a broken wing,

I am still a butterfly.