Poessay: Noon Meem Rashid and the White Cliffs of Dover

dear dear:

the tower...big ben...white cliffs of dover...when i was there Sap took me to see the sites...sensing my boredom he asked me if am ok...am fine, i said...it is deja vu...different from noon meem rashid's take...not his gumaan ka mukin or sulaiman ser b'zanoo or hasan kooza ger...but the one where he makes passionate and violent love to a white women and thinks he is single-prickly taking revenge on the goras and their rajfestation over hindustan...that my dear is an abuse...as ismat chugtaitold me....'arey bhai oos nay yeh kyuN nahiN soucha kay woh gori bhee enjoy ker rahi hogi?"... (why did he not think that she would have enjoyed him too?)... i understood the import...much later...

nahiN, am unafraid, dust to dust, ashes to ashes i understand, hum nahiN zindagi se darnay walay....those are a different cowardly breed

ae meri hum raqs mujh ko thaam le...zindagi se bhaag ker aaya hooN maiN...maybe so...am having second thoughts...but am an admirer not a blind follower...i would do no harm nor force myself upon another human being...in my book it is not done...born under the arch of dichotomy...duck gandhi and jinnah...where walls rise up with times...where the poor walk with envious hate and the rich in borrowed american accents splash gonna and wanna...sounds that i escaped from...but not really...because yaar log have recreated indian bazaars in the gorascape here...and with words as well as deeds they reincarnate desh in pardesh...and am left to wonder about the white cliffs of dover...what would i do? i never escaped from normandy...was not even born then...i had no clue about the sun that never set....for my land...once sunny is clouded...clouded not cloudy...and living here...paying taxes due every cruel april...and taking out the garbage every tuesday...and yank the weeds in the summer and clean the snow from the driveway in the summer...and do the dishes and sit down for quality times dutifully...beside lit fireplace in winters read ghalib and rashid and faiz and aktar ul imaan...why should i visit and enjoy stratford...you are one confused puppy i say to me self...saving the breath...you should be strait jacketed...and then i laugh at the suggestion...harmless me...them...they should be incarcerated, castrated, strait jacketed...my thoughts, words, deeds have not killed a fly...their greed and lust has all but undone the fury of the bhagats and azads...why should i witness the rise of the cliffs of dover?...haiN aur bhee ghum zamanay maiN muhabbat ke siwa


kal jo achanak
phir oon se takraeeN nighahaiN
wahimyay aa'aye ho ker oojager
oon guzray rishton ka bojh magar
ab kaun ootha'aye kaisay ootha'aye

[yesterday's chance encounter
richocheted once commpromised doubts
these time ravaged shoulders
cannot bear that weight today)