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Thursday, 20 December 2012

Genealogy of Grief

How strange is your grief
Does it dash your heart
Does it benumb your presence
Do you name it

A tear answers all

Too familiar it all seems
Strangely too familiar.

You trace
Genealogy of grief 

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Tic Tac Toe Love

Let us meet at the crossroads
Of life.
And exchange
And jumble
And criss cross
Some hard moments
With good ones.

Let us not
Dwell deep again
Upon the vagaries of feelings
A moment of meeting is far better
than death itself.

Let us
Exchange Breaths  –
Jumble them  –
And then
Criss cross the equation –

Come Dear
Come then
We have work to do
Come far
Too far
Where the noises of this life
take rest.

Let us meet at the crossroads of life
Let us meet deep down the heart
In the scarlet abyss
Where love lies wounded
Waiting desperately for help.

Tuesday, 11 December 2012


The Tragedy is that...
...that is the Tragedy.

I love you... love I.

Friday, 7 December 2012

I Survived

When my pen snowed

I broke its shishargaant

And wrote

About Our cold relation.

Words froze on the snowy page

My hands shivered

I kangried my thoughts

 I survived.

See love

How you have Wintered my life?


I tread the frosty lines of my page

Like chillaikalan

Ready to pinch strange vacuums.

(Shishargaant = Icicle, Kangri = Traditional Fire pot, Chillaikalan = Coldest winter period)

Thursday, 29 November 2012


Sooner or later
For one reason or another -
Everyone leaves you
like Life……

This World is nothing -
A Museum of Sorrows
How antique we are!!!


Wednesday, 21 November 2012


I am the residue of your tricks
O!! My magician of sorts!!!!!!

I am
What you perform not.

Sunday, 18 November 2012


I am not -

I am not 
the snow
that falls silently
in the wintry nights.
But the one
which obstructs your path
and is cleared to the margins
so that you could walk. 

Neither am I
the Chinar leaf
that falls swiftly like a poem
in that yellowy ambience.
I am but its heap
which is collected and burned
in the morning hours
by the still sleepy sweeper.

My Love
I am a ‘Rose’ -
a rusted rose
which craves for your Love
and which
you have forgotten
in the jungle of your Heart.

I am also one 
among many scattered stones
left on the road
after the stone pelting is over
which listens carefully to the 
cries of Blood
in the city of Screams.
My Love
It is quite good enough
‘To Be’ -
than ‘Not To Be’ -

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

No Random Thoughts

I have forgotten
everything about you.
But –
I remember it too well.
Love is more an aftermath
than an event.
You are too vacant in me -
Sometimes, I lose the space within

I have died long ago
In the cradle of your smile

Death has a style.
Due to various misperceptions
We, conventionally,

Call it Life.

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Synopsis Of Love

Love via Love
A Comparative Study Of Love

I Envisioned you
and fell in Love.
You my destiny
My design.
I will frisk
“My Love is selfish [and why] I cannot breathe without you”[1]

I’ll critically examine
the deep sea of Love
inside -
Will surely ruminate over
“I Love you as one loves certain dark things
secretly, between the shadow and the soul”[2]

To be in Love
with you

Review Of Literature
A lot has been
written and performed in Love
The stories of Laila Majnu,
Shirin Farhad and Romeo Juliet
will surely be my anchorage.
But my Love
will try to redefine
all this
I will thereby prove that
“There is always madness in love.
But [that] there is also always
some reason in madness”[3]

I will adopt
an analytical methodology
and will probe
deep in the
soul of my beloved
and will
critically prove that
“Reason is our soul’s left hand
faith her right”[4]

Primary Sources
Our Love of sorts

Secondary Sources
Everything on love
with Love
as Love.

[1] John Keats, Letters  to fanny Brawne, 13 October 1819
[2] Pablo Neruda, Love Sonnet XVII, trans. Mark Eisner, The Collected Poetry Of Pablo Neruda (2003) FSG publication pp 513
[3] Friedrich Nietzsche, Reading and Writing, Thus Spake Zarathustra(1999) trans. Thomas Common ,Pennsylvania State University, pp 46
[4]To the countess of Bedford by John Donne, Volume II, E K chambers ed. (1896) Lawrence and Bullen, pp15- 17

Thursday, 4 October 2012

I Love Loneliness

I Love Loneliness
It drives me mad

Madly I love u!

I like it

Caress it
your memories

I have made myself
An effigy of your absence
I burn it
Beat it
Torture it
to yield you

I sell my words
In the bazaars of intellect
They smell of you.

I take refuge in loneliness

It drives me mad

I love you

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

Politics of Love

The ‘uprising’ erupted
She ceased to be
My 'integral' part

The metaphysical 'newspaper'
discoursed about
Our 'tense situation'
conjectured about
Future emotional 'strategies'
People became 'experts'
Labelled it 'political' egoism

We said "nothing"

As an 'ambassador' of emotional 'affairs'
She smiles 'diplomatically'
And I 'pelt' Words

Saturday, 29 September 2012

Postmodern Sisyphus

The number
you are trying to dial
is currently
not answering
your call

Please call
after sometime
 (ad infinitum)

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

A Kashmiri Is Never Alone

Never alone

A Kashmiri is never alone.

Countless Souls
Always accompany him
They prove his Existence.

Countless unmarked
Raped Souls

Always accompany him

They can't Curfew Souls 

Every Kashmiri is a mortuary
Every Kashmiri is a revolt

Every Kashmiri is an instant death

Never alone
A Kashmiri is never alone.

Thursday, 20 September 2012


The Moon is my dead body
fished out
after countless stars
from the sea
of your tears.


I hang
on the peg of your eye.

Friday, 7 September 2012



Every Love
Is a part
of the
History of Sadness.

I have lost
Civilizations of Emotions
in you.

Tuesday, 21 August 2012

Communicating Gift

I 'pick up'
your gift

Your cracked Voice
attentively toned 
to produce
Mein bilkul theek hoon  effect.
I see it
Carefully wrapped 
in twinkling tears.

Miles away
I receive
from the dilapidated balcony
your gift
as dear to me as your silence.

We stop talking.
We exchange same gifts.

The phone call ends.

Thursday, 16 August 2012

Dasht e Imkaan

My blistered feet of Love
tread the dreaded path
again and again....

Love takes me
to a labyrinthine journey
devoid of you...

On the fringes of nothingness
I wait
for no one to come...

Scarlet footprints of heart
My love bleeds...

Sunday, 12 August 2012

"The Liberty Tree"

That Tree
commercially painted
once green
in the corner
of a crowded lane
kept thinking and
thinking of future….

One busy day
The Heritage workers
cut the tree down
“A thing from the past
should, at least,
act old”
they kept assuring themselves

The Stump remains
Its roots are out
in the streets now.
They demand Azaadi

Every moment
roots rage out
A tree grows inside me.
I keep thinking……


Friday, 10 August 2012

Sometimes You Meet Me Often

When I need you - desperately
And you are not there
I do not weep
Or cry
Or cling to your memories
Or search you
in the abstract projections -
Of my silly heart
I do not do all this.
I write it all down
This piercing,weakening
Benumbing disease.
I write it down on the
Page playground of my notebook
I write it down
Sometimes like this!

It all soothes down
To words.

I am a poet of your absence
When I need you - desperately
I write you down.
You meet me
through words
In distant mindscapes
In the heart of hearts
And right there
The poem ends
It ends
Sometimes like this!

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Diasporic Kashmir

Kashmir comes in ripples
As I imagine Dal in Delhi
Like a Phiran
Kashmir engulfs me
In this heat and dust

A distant Azaan
I hear
From Hazratbal
Like hope
I sit unaccompanied
Somewhere in a local mosque
I am a Char Chinari in Delhi

Too afraid I am of these
Scorching roads
Kashmir walks barefoot in me

Friday, 20 July 2012

Interrogative Spell

To a Friend
who said "why"
for "what"

My Friend
You don't say anything now
Nothing comes from your side
Not even a blank Smile

I Hope
One day
Your stubborn "why"
will weep
in front of your
Paltry "what"
that day
I will be free
from your
Interrogative Spell !!!!!

Saturday, 14 July 2012

Sisyphian Love

I have re-written my-self
frequently for you

For you...
I erased my each existence
I wrote again
and again
on the palimpsest of my being

I am nothing
but your forgotten feeling

I re-write my-self
You mispronounce me

Saturday, 31 March 2012

I love your dream world

You are
most trusted illusion
I carry you
in the mundane realities
of my Life
everything metamorphosizes
into a 'real dream'
What else do i need?
Just a dream
And I know
This dream is enough
to set me mad.
I start loving this 'honest
world' - Someone Else's trusted Illusion!!!!

Thursday, 22 March 2012

A Grave of One's Own

Kashmir is an unmarked grave
Full of voices
Where everyone is born dead
With a rage to live!

I too am part
Of this grave business
I am writing today
Some unknown people
Have arrived
With strange tools
To count the dead....

I protest
I write

Mubashir Karim

Sunday, 18 March 2012

They say,they yearn/ I think, I die 

"Kashmir was a paradise you know"
I think of your beauty
"People lived in harmony"
And i think of those wondrous times
"There was peace"
And i think of those tranquil moments
"People used to loiter late nights"
And i think about mutual dreams
"Dal was as clean as faith"
And i think of your gazelle watery eyes
It all changed in 90s"
And i think about those turbulant times
"People were forced to flee"
And i think of our 'encounters'
"Bullets,bullets and bullets"
And i think of your fusillade of words
"Things have somehow 'changed' now"
I stop thinking
Change the topic please
I die
So does Kashmir