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Category Archives: But With Due Credits

Chand Roz Aur Meri Jaan….

Pakistan: In pain. Bleeding. Insecurity and injustice. Lack of peace. Polarization. Corruption. Poverty. Illiteracy. And a disconnect with the Creator.
On the verge of giving up, these precious words of Faiz Ahmed Faiz tell me to hang on to hope.
Chand roz aur, Meri Jaan! Faqat chand hi roz,
Zulm ki chaaon me dum lene pe majboor hain hum,
Aur kuch der sitam seh lein, Tadap lein, Ro lein,
Apne ajdaad ki miraas hai, M’aazoor hain hum,
Jism par qaid hai, Jazbaat pe zanjeerein hain,
Fikr mahboos hai, Guftaar pe t’aazirein hain,
Apni himmat hai keh hum phir bhi jiye jaate hain,
Zindagi kya kisi muflis ki qaba hai jis mein,
Har ghadi dard ke paivand lage jaate hain,
Lekin ab zulm ki mai’aad ke din thode hain,
Ik zara sabr ke faryaad ke din thode hain,
Arsa-e-dehr ki jhulsi hui weeraani mein,
Hum ko rehna hai par yoon hi toh nahi rehna,
Ajnabi haathon ka benaam garaan-baar sitam,
Aaj sehna hai, Hamesha toh nahin sehna hai,
Yeh tere husn se lipti hui aalaam ki gard,
Apni do roza jawaani ki shekaston ka shumaar,
Chaandni raaton ka bekaar dehekta hua dard,
Dil ki besood tadap, Jism ki maayoos pukaar,
Chand roz aur, Meri Jaan! Faqat chand hi roz………..
A few more days, my Love!
A few more days, my Love! Merely a handful more,
Condemned to exist, you and I, Eclipsed in tyranny,
Bear with me the cruel winds, smart and weep,
My inheritance, My lineage demands, I’m but a mere cripple,
My shackled extremities, My manacled spirits,
Imprisoned my every thought, Every word restrained,
All that remains is courage, And hence I persist,
The drapery, My life, A tatterdemalion’s flowing robe,
Patched, In tatters, With fragments of pain,
But the times of oppression would soon cease,
Persevere, Our laments would soon cease,
In this desolate, parched desert sands,
We must now last, But not forever stand,
This crushing weight of an alien conjuring,
We must now endure, But not forever withstand,
The air of distress that tenderly envelops thy form,
The numerous gashes of our deficient youth,
Moonlit nights, Fruitless pangs of throbbing pain,
Unanswered cries of the poor heart, The body’s melancholic strain,
A few more days, my Love! Merely a handful more………..