Zillet-e-Khauf-e-sahar na ho to parvana hi kya? Urdu poem

Gaafil-e-mehfil shama na ho to jal jana hi kya?
Zillat-e-khauf-e-sahar na ho ta parvaana hi kya ?

Ladkhadata dar-b-dar jo mar na jaaye, kaisa Qais?
Zinda gar tere bhi dar pahuncha to phir deewana kya?

Tashnagi main masti-e-hasti mille to jaanu rind,
Pi ke hi behka jo main to shokhiy-e-rindaana kya?.

Hazel:nothing contradicts nothing

HAZEL May 23, 2012 9.00 PM

"You are the only proof you need and the only proof you will ever get that you are not an illusion.  You are not a seeker of Truth but Truth itself. You and your seeking and that which  you seek are all rolled in within you. All else is an illusion, and eNothing cven that illusion is part of you only. Don't shy away from that it but accept it for what it is meant to be: a plaything for your mind."

And then after a pause," Accept everything. When you reject something, you reject a part of yourself. Pick it up, reshape it and give it the meaning that echoes the music of your life. There is nothing else you need to know about God and Godliness. "

Words seemed to wing towards him from afar, carried aloft a gentle, almost imperceptible easterly wind. And for the first time, the words were beginning to mean something. But the words contradicted everything he had learnt in life , even the good things or things he thought were good. Even more important, these words   ran contrary to everything she had told him in life. There was a tinge of deep disquiet , so unlike her, in her voice, and the words seemed to belong to a person he had never her to be. "Had she given up on all that she stood for, all that she had suffered for -- uncomplainingly, stoically, even happily? Had she hit upon the untruth of her life?"

He struggled with these thoughts as she caught him looking at her with eyes that carried a little puzzlement and disbelief and confusion. And she smiled at him again and this was the smile he had always known since his childhood. This smile had always defined all that he was and had always in a strange way, stripped him bare to the soul . What it revealed was a little trusting child.

She smiled gently and but today the smile unsheathed a strange discomfiture in him. Till she started speaking again.

"White does not contradict black; it only defines that. Darkness is not the absence of light but only a proof of its presence elsewhere. Truth is not timed and therefore it is not eternal either. It is eternal because it dies every second, every hour, and in its death is truth reborn. That which does not surprise is not truth but there is nothing that will not surprise if our minds had not fallen dead. Life is nothing but the ability to receive and respond to surprises. The moment surprises cease, something like death takes hour. There is no happiness except that carried to you in little packets of surprises. Life is bringing surprises with every breath; quite often, these are too many for us to stand or even acknowledge. From one heart-beat to the next, it is all surprises. Total predictability, total consistency, total death. There is another name for death; boredom. And an even worse form of it: insensitivity. Do I make sense even today? If I do, the you or I need to reconsider our position. Life does not and is not meant to make no sense. Life lived fully is a ceaseless ecstasy, and ecstasy makes nonsense of all your norms and laws and sense and reason."

She stopped speaking. But around head and in her eyes, a storm raged in full fury. And he was still wondering , why is there so much calm and peace behind her eyes that rolled like a frenzy. Suddenly, he was reminded of the pot-makers wheel that moved in feverish circles but looked perfectly still at the center.

The moon above shone with more than a cool glow and its rays kissed the tops of the trees and the bosom of the river in their wonted loving way. And the dark heart of the forest also shone bright under moonlight. There was absolutely peace all around, broken occasionally by the competitive blare of temples and Gurdwara in the nearby town. 

Why defeat in love is sweeter than victory in war?

Why do I love ideas but am suspicious of all ideologies? Why do I not need a God to be religious and why do I not need a religion to love God? Why do cosmos and God mean everything together and each nothing at all by itself ?  Why do I not have to  believe in scriptures in order to be thrilled by them? Why do I love prophets but am never able to respect them? Why do morality, virtue and evil seem so ridiculous and compassion so profound? Why do loyalty and love not mean anything to me together and everything each by itself? Why have I felt that it is impossible to say "I love this but do not love that? Why have I always felt that love is something else when qualified by an object? That one can only say "I love", but not that "I love this,  or I love that?"  Why pain is noble and profound when it belongs to someone else and a bit of a selfish pity when one's own? Why pain has a higher meaning than love? Why does even the happiness you bring to a humiliated mother or a suffering child or helpless sister or poor father far nobler and intense than even the greatest bliss the fulfillment of a relationship can bring? Why being truthful and pious in a relationship is nobler than being alone and happy, and yet an overwhelming feeling of being in love with no one in particular brings you closer to an even higher bliss? Why defeat in love is sweeter than victory in war? Why losing humility is a bigger loss than losing an argument, even a war? When will these questions cease? Should they?



     Organised religions, no matter how noble their objectives initially must have been and no matter how useful a purpose they must have served in introducing some sort of order in primitive societies, have come to be identified more with exploitation, mayhem, hatred and cunning than with the professed noble goals. Certainly, I regard these religions -- and other forms of religious bigotry like communism, socialism or whatever( even secularism, which by itself has become an intolerant communal group) --......I regard these religions and ideologies as not only mischievous but also brutal and cunning. SO clearly, my God is not a separate entity, an iconic emblem of morality wielding draconian powers. I am closer to Einstein's -- and mystic's -- concept of God, and that God defies all definitions and contours. At best, even religions talk about the same force --Nau - Nav - name -- also mean energy. ( Jeta keeta, teta nau... All that exists is Energy) Obviously, no sane man can accept ideas that run contrary to empirical evidence,and thus a God creating man in his own image at one stroke is out for me. But the symbolic value of that myth still remains profound. Interestingly, despite the loud political sloganeering around the findings of scientific discoveries, especially around Darwin, the theory of origins and evolution of species changes nothing except details about the act of creation; as for the essentials of cosmic mysteries, only half baked religioinists and half-baked scientists would get into a quarrel. There is vast zone of agreement between them. A book, Tao of Physics, makes an interesting reading in this regard. That the book is written by a scientist of great repute -- Capra -- helps. But my observations draw only partially on those ideas.

Sunnycaves: Ideology is what remains once life and passion have fled from an idea

Sunnycaves: Ideology is what remains once life and passion have fled from an idea  Hazel

Ideology is what remains once life and passion have fled from an idea

Ideology is what remains once life and passion have fled from an idea. Life will be a lot simpler without ideologies of any kind. All ideologies eventually turn into religions and fall a prey to opinionated narrowness at best and fanaticism in general. It may sound incredible: more human blood has been shed in the name of these ideologies, with or without the religious content, than in the pursuance of any selfish individual goals, including personal hatred and greed.


Talking to trees is love;  tree-ism is ideology. Only in the sense of becoming sanctified dedication of a eprsonal feeling deos the word "religion" have a safe and a beautiful meaning.

Peace cometh dropping in as dew on a petal

Sometimes, I give myself company and look back at the hectic year or so that went by with such hurly burly mental adventurisms that I hardly had time to be with myself, even for a minute. But because I have never regretted anything in life, treating even mistakes as part of the learning process, I can look back peacefully and smile at my own stupidities. But all that feels like a montage of quickly shifting images from some previous life, lived many a millenia ago....all those passionate fights, debates and all. Great fun, but nothing much more. But for what it was, it was certainly enjoyable -- and, who knows, even useful. As I said, I never regret even my losses and look at them as investments in peace and happiness. May be, the peace that is dropping slow in on my soul these days may be the fruit of the feverish investments of my past. Even if that were not so, I would not trade the treasures dropping in on my lap  with a Kingdom of  Heaven.

        And I have often found it  amazing how sometimes people you have never known in life, never met suddenly turn up into important images in that montage,  and  suffuse the whole spectrum of life with soft light when harsh colours are threatening to dominate everything around us. For this, the only natural response is  gratitude -- gratitude which itself brings peace dropping in as gentle dew on  some tender weather-ravaged petal on a  cool, clear dawn. I have often experienced that on some particularly dark days, a voice would come singing softly of how pregnant clouds sometimes proudly  wave their standard, challenging stormy winds that threaten to wipe them clean off the skies. Storm over, a cool breeze fills the vales and its peace everywhere.   (HAZEL)

Stars are listening in

"Let's walk a few steps in the silence of the night, held up by the hum of the spheres , broken gently by the the rise and fall in the music of the stars. The velvetty silence will kiss our wounds dry. And noiselessly let's move for the stars are listening in." .. (Updating Hazel)

No future rolling out of the moment we call now

After-life is a name we give to an experience of a certain kind that our mind goes through here.In fact, all future is nothing but an experience we undertake here and now. There is no such thing as future rolling out from the moment we call now. Its rolled into it, in a circular experience of then, now and hereafter. "Every moment is eternally present."


The desire for immortality too is an experience confined to how our mind chooses to feel about the totality of existence and shaping the moment present the way it likes. The concept of future as a roll of cloth unwinding from the present moment into a space we call future is untenable in the light of findings of the modern science as well as the creative revelations of religiously inspired people called saints and prophets.

To Karminder Singh Aulakh

To Karminder Singh Aulakh: ref his comment in Siyasat : I guess this has been hanging out there between us for some time. Let me try and see if I can remove it. No, to be fair and honest, you have NEVER used such disrespectful terms for me .. NEVER. On the contrary, You have often used courteous and even kind words for me, trying at the same time to set me apart from the people whom you obviously don't like -- and I have always shown sympathy and understanding towards the reason for anger your against them. It will be clear to any impartial observer that you and I hold each other in high esteem as persons, and I am grateful to you for that. After all, it is not easy for anyone to praise someone in the enemy's camp, no matter how nice that someone might be. It is to your abiding credit that you have always shown that magnanimity and kindness towards me.

And yet that haze of a misunderstanding seems to hang between us. I would sincerely hope that it is not because of any harsh used for you by me.

My comment about "you thieves, you liars" etc. was not about the language you use for me, for if I ever accused you of that, that would be a blasphemy , considering that you have always been most gracious towards me personally -- and I have never failed to notice and acknowledge that.

But some bad vibes do swing between us when you use words such as " I wonder how your conscience allows you to...." etc etc. To any discerning reader, this would sound as a severe indictment of the other's lack of conscientiousness . May be, you don't really mean it this way. But that unforunately is the impression such words would always leave, and that would bring some amount of unpleasant feeling in its trail.

You want to know what I really think of you as a person? This exactly is what: 

"An extremely honest and well meaning person, a man of unimpeachable integrity and proud of it. A person whose self esteem is rooted in his respect for values which he holds dear and is willing to wage a battle for at considerable risk to his own well being. A soldier of truth and righteousness -- incorruptible to the core, and very very courageous."
This would roughly be a definition of a human being whom I could proudly adore as an icon.

From all the honest men and women I know to be honest to the core and proud of their integrity, if I had to choose but a dozen to walk with me down an Aisle of Honour, I have no doubt that you would be there walking right in front there with me. 

That said, there are a few things I am uncomfortable with, but none of that reduces my respect for you as a person fiercely proud of his truthfulness and integrity. 

I wish I could learn to be comfortable with the ferocity of the passion that comes across in your dislikes.

All in all, I rate you far higher than many of my own admirers would rate me. And my earlier apologies to you had come from the core of my heart. So does my admiration for you. ..And so also do a few of the reservations I have about the way you make me feel the heat of your anger.

I see a lot of sparkle in your eye. What saddens me sometimes is the presence of a streak of blood in the same eye. As they say, when eyes are bloodshot, vision is a casualty.

And I mean all of it as a brother.

As the sun passes through rain-moistened wind to give it the colours of the rainbow , so does love pass through your heart to lend it the quality of a multi-splendorous dream

"Just as your eyes must need a mirror to see themselves, your mind needs another to understand itself: it is impossible to know oneself entirely without the reflecting aide of another compassionate mind. In the end, experience and intelligence fail where simple, old fashioned and innocent love works. The magical deciphering of oneself and of the world around is a leap of pure affection. Love has eyes as fresh as a newly born infant- with an uncanny knack for marveling at what it understands in a flash," she said, but in a flash she saw that her son was dithering on the bounds of understanding her words, and needed a little extra nudge.

"You once said that to truly understand something, one must always have look at it with wonderment. You said to understand is not to decipher the mystery of something but only to enjoy it," he said.
She looked at him with eyes that bespoke love and kindness. For the first time, she knew her son was inching towards romancing realism.

"The romance of mystery is a plaything for the old; lovers and infants alone can invest the familiar with mystery, and romance it. The wise know too much to understand anything; love renders both wisdom and understanding irrelevant, because love must enjoy everything and be happy with it completely. It is impossible to know something without first being in love with it. Understanding follows love as fragrance follows a flower. Don't panic at thrill of love at first sight. That's the only love there is; the rest is mere laboured posturing. But it will require a saint's heart to know that its not love but desire at first sight that is probably a fleeing joy, "said Hazel, as he persisted with his questions. 

   "But unless you feel the wonder that a child feels before a rainbow, unless you run bare bodied, barefooted to the edge of the earth to sit at the feet of the rainbow,  or  climb it and  hang by it upside down, clutching its colour bands with  hands and feet as a monkey hangs from a quivering,  rain-weakened branch of a  tree  - unless you try to rub the face of the rainbow clean with your bare wet cheeks, you have known nothing about love which comes dropping as a dream , filtering through the mist of particles of a rain-moistened wind.  As the sun passes through this mist to give it the colours of the rainbow, so does love pass through your heart to lend it the quality of a multi-splendorous dream," she said.