The Crescent Nation’s Adversity Times

A Swati’s Words…

For an IDP * like me, it’s just like Déjà vu,

I’m returning back to my home, in angst and blue.

In debris, bombshells, dead bodies and bricks,

I’ll seek my home where I played with my Sputniks*.

No matter in place of fruits, if hand grenades grow,

You can’t question fate if it’s destined to deathblow.

No matter instead of flowers, if gunpowder is the smell,

I’ll go beyond the feeling, I’ll mould myself to dwell.

My brain says “It’s destruction”; my heart, “It’s the motherland”,

It’s been too much of brain now, I ought to grab my heart’s hand.

By- Farrukh Zafar

*Sputnik : Soviet satellites sent into Earth orbit in the 1950s.

*IDP : Internally Displaced Person.

Today is the 12th of July, 2009, which signifies that from tomorrow onwards, the return of the refugees affected by the Swat war, starts. I believe each and everyone of us owes something to these immensely grief stricken people. And so I dedicate this poem to all my brothers and sisters who made such a big sacrifice for their country.

I salute you. And I pray for your safe and peaceful rehab that’s worth your heavenly homes.

T20 World Cup Song

Can you sense the thunder, all across the Big Ben,

“God! One word, victory” followed by an “Amen”,

Down now to the Super Eights, 8 different brands of madmen,

Making their way to the Lord’s Ground, their destiny is the lion’s den.

Let’s see them showcase mettle,

Lord’s balcony’s the place to settle.

Every boundary, that they earn,

Every high hit that goes to Saturn,

Big Ben’s minute hand stops to turn,

London’s time began to burn.

Let’s see them showcase mettle,

Lord’s balcony’s the place to settle.

Lord’s, Trent Bridge and the Oval,

Arenas where gladiators shall battle,

In the stands, spectators sound like rattle,

Come, fill your “Tea20” cup, with fever from the WorldCup kettle!

Let’s see them showcase mettle,

Lord’s balcony’s the place to settle.

-by Farrukh Xafar

Comrades, Come Break The Shell

Yes we are, the angry and uptight,

The one’s you always, deceitfully kept quiet.

Yes we are, the hungry and the bold,

Who always did what they were told.

The ones who kneeled down for you,

Just to read hanging scriptures in Hebrew*.

But now when we see our wings have grown,

It’s time you start repaying your loan.

Each drop of blood has priced a countless penny,

There’s one kill comin’, that’ll cost one too many.

Keep quite no longer, we’ll rise with the sun,

Each hand will throw candles and grab a loaded gun.

Not blinded by the lies, for which we’ve been blamed,

The lives that we lost, all those lives will be reclaimed.

-By Farrukh Zafar

*Hebrew is the ancient language of the Jewish Bibles.

If Prophet Muhammad(P.B.U.H.) Visited You…

Just for a day or two,
If he came unexpectedly,
I wonder what you’d do.

Oh, I know you’d give your nicest room
To such an honored guest,
And all the food you’d serve him,
Would be the very best,
And you would keep assuring him,
You’re glad to have him there,
That serving him in your home,
Is joy beyond compare.

But … when you saw him coming,
Would you meet him at the door,
With arms outstretched in welcome
To your visitor?
Or … would you have to change your clothes
Before you let him in?
Or hide some magazines and put
The Qur’an where they had been?
Would you still watch the same movies
On your T.V. set?
Or would you switch it off
Before he gets upset?
Would you turn off the radio,
And hope he hadn’t heard?
And wish you hadn’t uttered that last hasty word?

Would you hide your worldly music,
And instead take Hadith books out?
Could you let him walk right in,
Or would you have to rush about?
And, I wonder … if the Prophet spent

A day or two with you,
Would you go right on doing the things
You always do?

Would you go right on saying the things
You always say?
Would life for you continue,
As it does from day to day?

Would your family squabbles
Keep up their usual pace,
And Would you find it hard each meal
To say a table grace?

Would you keep up each and every prayer
Without putting on a frown?
And would you always jump up early
For prayer at dawn?

Would you sing the songs you always sing,
And read the books you read?
And let him know the things on which
Your mind and spirit feed?

Would you take the Prophet with you
Everywhere you plan to go?
Or, would you maybe change your plans
Just for a day or so?

Would you be glad to have him meet
Your very closest friends?
Or, would you hope they stay away
Until his visit ends?

Would you be glad to have him stay
Forever, on and on?
Or would you sigh with great relief
When he at last was gone?

It might be interesting to know
The things that you would do,
If Prophet Muhammad, in person, came
to spend some time with you.

-By Anonymous

This poem was published in the June 1997 issue of the Islamic Journal.