Yeh jo reyg-dasht-e-firaaq hai
Yeh rukay agar
Yeh rukay agar toh nishaan miley
Yeh nishaan miley
Ke jo faaslon ki saleeb hai
Yeh garri hoi hai kahaan kahaan!
Merey aasmaan se kidher gai
Terey iltefaat ki kehkashaan
Merey bekhabar merey benishaan
Yeh rukey agar toh pata chalay
Mein tha kis nagar, tu raha kahaan!
Ke zamaan makaan ki yeh wuusatein
Tujhey dekhney ko taras gaeen
woh mere naseeb ki baarishein kisi aur chat pe baras gaeen
Merey char su hai ghubaar-e-jaan, Woh fishaar-e-jaan
Ke khabar nahin merey haath ko mere haath ki
Mere khwaab se terey baam tak
Teri rahguzar ka to zikr kya
Nahin zoofishan tera naam tak!
Hain dhuaan dhuaan, mere istakhwaan
Mere ansoo-on mein bujhey huay mere istakhwaan
Merey naksh gar, merey naksh jaan
Isi reyg-dasht-e-faraaq mein
Rahey muntazir....terey muntazir
Merey khwaab jinke fishaar mein
Rahay merey haal se bekhabar tere rahguzar
Tere rahguzar
ke jo naksh hai merey haath par
Magar is bala ki hai teergi
Ke khabar nahin merey haath ko mere haath ki
Woh jo chashm-e-shoabdaa saaz thi
Woh uthey agar merey istakhwaan mein ho raushni
Isi ek lamha-e-deed mein teri rahguzar
Mere teerajan mein chamak uthey
Merey khwaab se terey baam tak
Sabhi manzaroon mein damak uthay
Usi ek pal mein ho jawidaan
Mere arzoo jo hai beykaran
Meri zindagi ke hai mukhtasir
Yeh jo reyg-e-dasht-e-firaaq hai.. yeh rukay agar...
Yeh rukay agar
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Monday, March 5, 2007
Swaaha
My ashes in the Ganges
Soul cleansed and agleam
No hell for me now
I’ve won my reprieve
Tell me, tell me,
How does putrid water heal
wounds I inflicted
on those who still grieve?
...Anita
Soul cleansed and agleam
No hell for me now
I’ve won my reprieve
Tell me, tell me,
How does putrid water heal
wounds I inflicted
on those who still grieve?
...Anita
Catch 22
The Teacup
There was a couple who used to go to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup. They said, "May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful." As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke.
"You don't understand," it said. "I haven't always been a teacup. There was a time when I was red and I was clay." My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, "let me alone", but he only smiled, "Not yet."
"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. Stop it! I'm getting dizzy!" I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet."
Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I wondered why he wanted to burn me, and I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as He shook his head, "Not yet."
Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. "There, that's better," I said. And he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. "Stop it, stop it!" I cried. He only nodded, "Not yet."
Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening nodding his head saying, "Not yet."
Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf. One hour later he handed me a mirror and said, "Look at yourself." And I did. I said, "That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful."
"I want you to remember, then," he said, "I know it hurts to be rolled and patted, but if I had left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened; you would not have had any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive for very long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I first began with you."
God knows what He's doing (for all of us).He is the Potter, and we are His clay.He will mold us and make us, So that we may be made into a flawless piece of work To fulfill His good, pleasing, and perfect will.
~~~
'Insipirational' bullshit like this makes my blood boil. I just got this in my mail. Either God is a despot or a retard. I mean if he couldn't produce what he intended to to begin with, he isn't God as we define him anyway. Besides we're not clay to be moulded and we do feel pain. If he does intend to mould us "to fulfuill his good, pleasing and perfect will" then he might as well not give us individual brains or nerve endings to percieve emotions and sensations.
When you go thru shit and come out smelling of it, they tell you that is wrong because all that pain was supposed to make you stronger, not obnoxious. But how does one suffer and not get a tad disillusioned and bitter? I guess that calls for another round of inspirational bullshit about how pain and pleasure are the same thing as percieved by yogis. Dammit, if we were all yogis and perfectly comfortable with what we're given, how do we evolve? Progress is about gettting better. If things seem perfect to all of us what will we aspire for, work towards, look forward to?
And what exactly is wrong with clay? It is perfect in that it is in its natural state. We're meant to be clay, not tea cups. We're moulded by other human beings into what we think is in tandem with HIS 'good , pleasing will" and from that stems all disease. Do you see what a multilayered word that is? - DIS-EASE?. We spend our lives conforming to labels prepared by other human beings. Why we even define God the way we want Him to be.
And so it goes on. ..this endless finger pointing. Either you have changed and are not the person you used to be, which is tragic...or you haven't changed at all and are hopeless and stagnating. Either way the world thinks you need help! If being a teacup pleases you, lie back and enjoy the patting and spinning and preheating and reheating! If you want to be clay, be prepared to be trampled upon. Either way you have a hanging judge!!
There was a couple who used to go to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup. They said, "May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful." As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke.
"You don't understand," it said. "I haven't always been a teacup. There was a time when I was red and I was clay." My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, "let me alone", but he only smiled, "Not yet."
"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. Stop it! I'm getting dizzy!" I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet."
Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I wondered why he wanted to burn me, and I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as He shook his head, "Not yet."
Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. "There, that's better," I said. And he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. "Stop it, stop it!" I cried. He only nodded, "Not yet."
Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening nodding his head saying, "Not yet."
Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf. One hour later he handed me a mirror and said, "Look at yourself." And I did. I said, "That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful."
"I want you to remember, then," he said, "I know it hurts to be rolled and patted, but if I had left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened; you would not have had any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive for very long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I first began with you."
God knows what He's doing (for all of us).He is the Potter, and we are His clay.He will mold us and make us, So that we may be made into a flawless piece of work To fulfill His good, pleasing, and perfect will.
~~~
'Insipirational' bullshit like this makes my blood boil. I just got this in my mail. Either God is a despot or a retard. I mean if he couldn't produce what he intended to to begin with, he isn't God as we define him anyway. Besides we're not clay to be moulded and we do feel pain. If he does intend to mould us "to fulfuill his good, pleasing and perfect will" then he might as well not give us individual brains or nerve endings to percieve emotions and sensations.
When you go thru shit and come out smelling of it, they tell you that is wrong because all that pain was supposed to make you stronger, not obnoxious. But how does one suffer and not get a tad disillusioned and bitter? I guess that calls for another round of inspirational bullshit about how pain and pleasure are the same thing as percieved by yogis. Dammit, if we were all yogis and perfectly comfortable with what we're given, how do we evolve? Progress is about gettting better. If things seem perfect to all of us what will we aspire for, work towards, look forward to?
And what exactly is wrong with clay? It is perfect in that it is in its natural state. We're meant to be clay, not tea cups. We're moulded by other human beings into what we think is in tandem with HIS 'good , pleasing will" and from that stems all disease. Do you see what a multilayered word that is? - DIS-EASE?. We spend our lives conforming to labels prepared by other human beings. Why we even define God the way we want Him to be.
And so it goes on. ..this endless finger pointing. Either you have changed and are not the person you used to be, which is tragic...or you haven't changed at all and are hopeless and stagnating. Either way the world thinks you need help! If being a teacup pleases you, lie back and enjoy the patting and spinning and preheating and reheating! If you want to be clay, be prepared to be trampled upon. Either way you have a hanging judge!!
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