KOI AUR HAI
Tere  khaboon mai koi aur hai,aur tere sayee mai  koi aur hai
Kaisay tu dekhay hasrat mere,tu haqeeqat mai koi aur hai
Yeh dil kab tak arizoo karta rahai ,ab koi sabab-e-furkat **
Kaisay tu pehchaanay mere ulfat,tu zahir mai koi ,aur batin mai koi aur hai

Itrey sabnum ki tarah jalah hai mera daman bhi
Mai manzil ki jistu ju kya karoon, ab rasta bhi nazar nhi
yadoon kay samandhar mai dhoob chukka ab toh
Mai haar chukka hoon zindagi  aur ab toh moat bhi ati nhi

Bhulavou yeh gum kaisay ,dil ko kya dawaa doon bhar janay ki
Mai kyun nhi rub a ru khudsay  ,mai kon hoon  ya mujmai he koi aur hai

Faryaad bhi kya ** , naa ashinaa hai yahaan sabhi
Kis  mode pay kya  hogaye koi khabar nhi hummay
Mai toota huva taraa hoon mujmai ab wo  timtimhath kahaan
Lagta Aasmaan bhaag rahaa hai aur zameen fisal rahe ** jaisay

muntazir-e-humraah ** kya,jo rahai thi wo rahai he badhal gaye
Mud kay ab dekhoon  kya, akela rahai safar tha ya koi aur be hai
Mubarak ** tummay ab yeh jahaan dard baraa
Na mud kay kabhi dekhay **** issay dhoobara
Ab aur palkoon pay ashikay baar saha nhi jata
Laboon  pay ab aur bahaana bardast nhi hota

Waqt guzra hai, kyun naa mera bhi saleeka badhal gaye Rumi
Ab aur ranjishay nhi,bhula do ghar koi ghilla aur bhi hai
                                 written by: Aabid Rumi
                             suggested by:Tanzeelah Illahi

The coffee has gone cold already,
a layer of cream silently settling itself,
just as I settle myself in a corner, silently...
a book between my thumb and forefinger,
but I'm not reading.
The sun has set long back,
maybe some two hours back
and I realize that by the darkening room.
Somehow, even the darkened room
is a sort of comfort, a solace.
I keep staring at the clock in a fix.
The handles never move, it lays still
just like the thumping of my heart,
which feels numb after all this time.
Paulo Coelho screams from the paperback
which I hold a tad bit too tightly
scared of letting go of one more aspect.
He tells me of the Zahir
and makes me realize once more
that I lost my Zahir.
I feel myself moving unwittingly to my desk
gulping down the coffee in a go
and taking out my diary,
I scribble something that's incomprehensible, even to me...
"The world isn't a wish granting factory "
The poster screams at me
from across the wall.
I nod with a heavy heart, "But we all wish it was, don't we?"

I am in the space between air and skin
Finer than film
The closeness of it all
Cutting me up
Like good snow by a razor
Just before oblivions short ride
I am wedged between glass
Thinner than papers edge
I am membrane
Between skull and mind
With its churning
For illusory answers
In familiar, sullen, sodden, soil
Already turned over and over
I am stitching undone
On that prized dress
The one you wore last summer
In the stifling heat
When all we did was laugh and eat and swim
And fight
I am the reflection on liquid
That stabs your eyes
I am the glint on gold
Driving you
I am marbles sheen
Where the veins of colour snake along
Bursting from stone
Sweeping you from your feet
I am grain of wood
Knotting you up in warmth
Watching you while I grow skyward
I am dawns magic
Evaporating
Missed by the shutter click
Lost to the rising sun
In an instant between blinks
I am the Superfine
I am the Sung Strung One
I am operas Overture
I am The Zahir
I am Legend

cannot save us.
(inside from a negated self)
For its existence merely shows
(who claws at instruments and pages)
that our minds
(created not for me but for those who like to)
need some clever distraction,
(indulge delusions of grandeur)
a momentary Zahir,
(and succumb to)
a religious ******,
(messiahs of mass mentality.  From Deep within I beg myself to remain)
for illusions of the separation of ourselves from
(saying nothing and using time only to scream.)

this.

Zahir se mat tolo faqat meri zeest ka mayaar...
Ahem ke saare mudde to chupe hue hain yaar...
Pal pal mein kitna jeete hain marte hain kitni baar...
Pal pal se seenchi umr ka kaise karo Hisaar...