Tags Posts tagged with "kashmiri poets"

kashmiri poets

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History, they say, always repeats itself. In my homeland, helplessness repeats itself. Our pangs never settle into grief, or mourning or bereavement. A fresh shot of agony injected shamelessly to scour our wounds. This time again they eyed him in the crowd And shot him in the head. I’m not fond of national pride But I stand in awe of the patience, the tolerance of my people, in this great democracy where our blood is disposable. What have you given to our homeland? Barbed wires and shattered windows, agonised orphans and wailing widows. Soldiers who don’t know why they are

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Agha Shahid Ali, around 1998 (Image from the interview for the ‘Poets of New England’ series with William Moebius) By Steffen Horstmann Forever   Do you seek, like Jonah, to be elusive forever– To live like an ascetic, reclusive forever?   You traversed deserts & abide in a mirage, Within the shade of a fig & olive forever.   The temple scribe said you were fated to stray In radiant absence, as wind lisps its narrative forever.   Sand rises around you, a volatile vacuum–O escape To the mind’s habitable star, fugitive forever.   In a vision you emerge from

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By Huzaifa Pandit Zindagi jabr-e-musalsal ki tarah kaati hai Jaanay kis jurm ki paayi hai saza yaad nahee!! (Life meanders on stooped under a perpetual tyranny What heinous crime begot such punishment? – Devoured by the misty mires of my memory) yeh jo raig-e-dasht-e-firaq hai yeh ruke agar yeh ruke agar to nishaaN mile, yeh nishaaN mile ki jo faasiloN kii saliib hai yeh gaRi hui hai kahaaN kahaaN mere aasmaaN se kidhar gayii tere iltefaat ki kehkashaaN mire be_Khabar, mire be_nishaaN yeh ruke agar to pata chale maiN thaa kis nagar tuu rahaa kahaaN ki zamaaN makaaN ki yeh

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Agha Shahid Ali, around 1998 (Image from the interview for the ‘Poets of New England’ series with William Moebius) If There Is a Poet, It Is This, It Is This The passing away of Agha Shahid Ali in 2001 was a collective loss to Kashmir- the most eloquent Kashmiri-English poet, a writer of unmatched elegance and virtuosity, a chronicler of pain- his poetry is the very stuff of beauty, loss and redemption. His death deprived Kashmir of one of its most potent cultural voices, a voice that would have done more good than any Track 1 or Track 11 effort.

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Angels by Agha Shahid Ali In this video, poet Kerry O’Keefe gives an exquisite reading of Angels- a ghazal written by Kashmiri-American poet, Agha Shahid Ali. She is reading at Ali’s gravesite, in Northampton, MA. [Uploaded by Walter Skold on Vimeo.]   Snowmen by Agha Shahid Ali This is an animated poem read by Carl Hancock Rux. Part of the Poetry Everywhere series, produced by the Poetry Foundation in association with docUWM at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Animation by Kyle Jenkins. [Uploaded by PoetryFoundation on YouTube] Thumbnail: Screen shot from Dwaipayan Banerjee’s short documentary ‘The Beloved Witness’ on the life

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It’s like asking me why I breathe.  It’s something inborn. Like the instincts. I write because it feeds my soul. It keeps it living. My pen speaks all my heart wants to pour out. I started writing poems when I was in class III. I always felt that my pen loses all the friction when it interacts with the paper. Later in my teens, I started reading poetry in Urdu, Kashmiri and English. I realized poetry is the mirror of all the emotions a human can feel. So, I tried to portray all my feelings through my poem. I started

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I was born when Kashmir’s struggle took a new direction, when the conscience of people of Kashmir told them that “enough is enough”. Enough of suppression and enough of deluding talkative measures to settle the Kashmir conflict, and instead, people choose to make the world to listen to them. Yes, it was the same year when the Kashmiris took to gun that I was born in down-town Srinagar. The neo-resistance movement that began in the Valley had set the alarm bells ringing in Delhi and the response to that message was clear: crush it hard, so it can’t stand. And

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I grew up in Kashmir. It is a place where there are different shades to every little possible thing- such beautiful seasons, tears, laughter, untold stories, told stories which can always told in a different colour. So I would say, being a Kashmiri, poetry comes naturally, it is like a child’s curiosity, first to know everything then to convey the same in a cheerful childish way. Kashmir makes one to develop different kind of prisms to imbibe things. I used to read a lot of novels in school, mostly of Paulo Coehlo, Robin Sharma and Dan Brown. Poetry caught my

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By Ather Zia Our wounds are labeled forgettable, Shahid Our life before death is imperceptible, Shahid Billboards proclaim, Kashmir: A Paradise God has a reason to be chimerical, Shahid Memory threads tied to wooden roses at Khankah Even simple prayers are incomprehensible, Shahid At Naseem Bagh, your presence was ephemeral Now, your absence is a spectacle, Shahid Our laments are lost, our yearnings are empty Grief— the source of all that is poetical, Shahid. Fear has abandoned us; Hope has embraced us Yours are the best words in our arsenal, Shahid Your last illegible scrawl, an emblem of your name

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By Farzana Munshi Her hands are stretched out to the lap of cliffs She’s climbing to heaven by treading falls Her eyes are sapphire Hair woven in gold silk threads Her soul is the pearl harboured in heaven Body’s scent pure as a new born Alas!  Why is she drowned in thought? Why are you blue? The part I bore is turning my fate low, she says, Lowering her gaze, the breeze gusting My children are splicing away my love essence I wail but they rend my heart apart Disdaining every element that holds my breath Their eyes cold, their

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