Picture Courtesy: Sheikh Shakeel Ahsan (@ Jampur, District Rajanpur on 17th Aug, 2010)
They cried of drought and foreign hands
And now flood overflows their lands
As monsoon clouds vomit deadly rains
No school, no mosque, nothing remains
Some watch it drizzle against their glass
Some watch TV and ‘just’ cry alas!
As rivers over spilled into homes
Leaving behind bodies, cries & foams
Thousands dead and millions roam
On streets in search of their homes!
Whilst apathetic ones still lay on bed
And talk of hows and whens like said:
“What will I save if I get drowned?
Should that day might come;
My car, my belongings or my golden crown
I have to save before I run”
As he dreamt of noah’s ark
Lights went off and it went dark
Water level began to rise
And he could not save his poor life!
Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi
Plastic Tearz | An Insight
The 2010 floods remain to be the biggest natural disaster in the history of Pakistan and in the recent history of the entire world. Lend a helping hand to the 20 million affected, as the same can happen with us. Let’s vow to help, light and fight.
– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi: Plastic Tearz – An Insight
Disclaimer: Smoking is injurious to health. It causes cancer of all sorts and you should ‘nt really smoke, please. This was just a poetic rambling, of a smokin’ poet :P. Dont use any portion of this stupid poem as a justification to kill yourself (like you will live forever without it :P, HAHAHA)
A tribute to Habib Jalib on his 82nd birthday today 28th Feb, 2010
Habib Jalib. Habib Jalib. Habib Jalib!
Habib Jalib
“No poet since Wali Dakkani has been able to capture greater audience than Habib Jalib. He is truly the poet of the masses..”– Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Habib Jalib, the poet of the masses, also known as the “People’s Poet” was more than just a poet. Every since Pakistan came into being in 1947, our history plagues with underhand deals, financial ‘gifts’, putting a price tag on our souls, selling our conscience in self-interest and compromising on principles.
The great man Habib Jalib lived 65 years and not a single man can claim allegations mentioned above on him. Such was the persona of Habib Jalib – The revolutionary poet and ever-inspiring activist.
Whether it was defying the military dictators like the self-proclaimed Mard-e-Haq, Mard-e-Momin General Zia-ul-Haq, whose policies of state-sponsored radicalization still haunt our society, or General Ayub Khan, who campaigned against the mother of the nation, Fatima Jinnah in Presidential elections (and through rigging/state machinery claimed a “win” and imposed a new constitution in Pakistan, in reply Habib wrote the famous “Dastoor” / Constitution) or protesting against PPP’s Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s policies when he felt ZAB was going off the track, Habib Jalib represented the masses thought through his rhythmic words and political activism.
Jailed several times for his rather honest opinions and offered monetary help by the state several times, Habib Jalib never compromised on his principles and even after his death, his family refused a government offer to pay for his funeral expenses.
After his passing, Qateel Shifai expressed his sorrow and grief in these words:
Apney sarey dard bhula kar auron ke dukh sehta tha
Hum jub ghazlain kehtey thay wo aksar jail main rehta tha
Aakhir kar chala hi gya wo rooth kar hum farzanon se
Wo deewana jisko zamana Jalib Jalib kehta tha
– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi : Plastic Tearz – An Insight
Feel the persona of Habib Jalib reciting his poem ” Dastoor” in response to General Ayub Khan’s Dastoor/Constitution.
Dastoor
musheer
Zulm Rahay aur Amn bhi ho ?
Ten poems of Jalib with English translation:
I
What Does Pakistan Mean?
Bread, clothes and medicine
A little house to live in
Free education, as may right be seen
A Muslim, I, too, have always been
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God, but God, The Rab-al-alameen
For American alms do not bray
Do not, the people, laugh away
With the democratic struggle do not play
Hold on to freedom, do not cave in
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God…
Confiscate the fields from the landowners
Take away the mills from the robbers
Redeem the country from its dark hours
Off with the lordly vermin
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God…
Sind, Baluchistan and Frontier
These three are to Panjab most dear
And Bengal lends them splendour
Anguished should not be their mien
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God…
This, then, is the basic thing
For the people, let freedom’s bell ring
From the rope, let the plunderer swing
Truly they speak, who the truth have seen
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God, but Allah…
I
Pakistan Ka Matlab Kya?
Roti, kapda aur dawa
Ghar rehne ko chhota sa
Muft mujhe talim dila
Mein bhi Musalmaan hoon wallah
Pakistan ka matlab kya
La Ilaha Illalah…
Amrika se mang na bhik
Mat kar logon ki tazhik
Rok na janhoori tehrik
Chhod na azadi ki rah
Pakistan ka matlab hai kya
La Ilaha Illalah…
Khet waderon se le lo
Milen luteron se le lo
Mulk andheron se le lo
Rahe na koi Alijah
Pakistan ka matlab kya
La Ilaha Illalah…
Sarhad, Sindh, Baluchistan
Teenon hain Panjab ki jaan
Aur Bangal hai sab ki aan
Aai na un ke lab par aah
Pakistan ka matlab kya
La Ilaha Illalah…
Baat yehi hai bunyadi
Ghasib ki ho barbadi
Haq kehte hain haq agah
Pakistan ka matlab kya
La Ilaha Illalah…
II
Islam Is Not In Danger
Endangered are the idle rich, bursting with cash
Crumbling walls about to crash
All the centuries’ mish-mash
Islam is not in danger
Why do a few clans all the land rights enjoy
And those, who revere the Prophet, are bereft of joy
Endangered are the beasts of prey
Multicoloured cars which in the streets sashay
And for whom the American hearts sway
Islam is not in danger
Due to our slogans the palaces shake and tremble
The towering ornate shops cannot our hopes quell
Endangered are the robbers of the highway
Western traders who make hay
Thieves and tricksters who waylay
Islam is not in danger
Holding aloft the banner of peace, loving all humans, we are on the go
Loving all the world, O Jalib, is our proud credo
Endangered are the palatial predators
The kings and their abettors
Nawabs and other such traitors
Islam is not in danger.
II
Khatre Mein Islam Nahin
Khatra hai zar daron ko
Girti hui diwaron ko
Sadiyon ke bimaron ko
Khatre mein Islam nahin
Sari zamin ko ghere hue hain aakhir chand gharane kyon
Naam nabi ka lene wale ulfat se begane kyon
Khatra hai khun khwaron ko
Rang birangi karon ko
Amrika ke pyaron ko
Khatre mein Islam nahin
Aaj hamare naaron se larza hai bapa aiwanon mein
Bik na sakenge hasrat-o arman unchi saji dukanon mein
Khatra hai bat maron ko
Maghrib ke bazaron ko
Choron ko makkaron ko
Khatre mein Islam nahin
Amn ka parcham le kar utho har insane se piyar karo
Aprna to manshoor hai Jalib, sare jahan se pyar karo
Khatra hai darbaron ko
Shahon ke ghamkhwaron ko
Nawabon, ghaddaron ko
Khatre mein Islam nahin
III
Maulana
Too long I have heard you preach and prate, Maulana
But so far there has been no change in my fate, Maulana
Keep to yourself your preachings of gratefulness
My heart, like an arrow, they penetrate, Maulana
The truth, only you know or God knows
They say that Jimmy Carter is your pir* incarnate, Maulana
The land to the landlords, the machine to the despoilers
This, according to you, is God’s dictate, Maulana
Why don’t millions fight for Palestine
Prayers alone cannot from chains liberate, Maulana
* Sufi saint
III
Maulana
Bahut mein ne suni hai aap ki taqreer Maulana
Magar badli nahin ab tak meri taqdeer Maulana
Khudara Shukr ki talqeen apne pass hi rakhen
Yeh lagti hai mere seene pe ban kar teeer Maulana
Nahin mein bol sakta jhut is darja dhitai se
Yehi hai jurm mera aur yehi taqsir Maulana
Haqeeqat ka kya hai, yeh to aap jaanen ya Khuda jane
Suna hai Jimmi Carter hai aap ka peer Maulana
Zameenen hon waderon ki, mashinen hon luteron ki
Khuda ne likh ke di hai yeh tumhen terhrir Maulana
Karodon kyon nahin mil kar Falastin ke liye ladte
Dua hi se faqat kat-ti nahin zanjir Maulana
IV
Ghazal
Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me
Both of these, however, are under American hegemony
American aid gave us wheat, as also their deceit
Do not ask me how long we’ve suffered their conceit
And yet the bayonets are all around this flowering valley
Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me
Khan Bahadur, do not follow the English, from them better keep away
Once again they are holding you by the collar, you are still their prey
Macmillan was never thine, Kennedy can never be
Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me
This land in fact, my dear, belongs to peasants and workers
Here will not run the writ of a few clannish marauders
The dawn of freedom is heralding the end of tyranny
Hindustan belongs to me and Pakistan belongs to me.
IV
Ghazal
Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai
Lekin in donon mulkon mein Amrika dera hai
Aid ki gandam kha kar ham ne kitney dhokey khai hain
Poochh na hamne Amrika ke kitne naaz uthai hain
Phir bhi ab tak wadi-e gul ko sangeenon ne ghera hai
Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai
Khan Bahadur chhodna hoga ab to saath Angrezon ka
Ta bah gareban aa pahuncha hai phir se hath Angrezon ka
Macmilan tera na hua to Kenedy kab tera hai
Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai
Yeh dharti hai asal mein, pyare, mazdooron dahqanon ki
Is dharti par chal na sakegi marzi chand gharanon ki
Zulm ki rat rahegi kab tak ab nazdik savera hai
Hindustan bhi mera hai aur Pakistan bhi mera hai
V
The Mother
The children were shot dead
The mother, in fury, said
These pieces of my heart
Should cry and I stand apart
Looking on from afar
This I cannot do
I should look on from afar
As the tyrants, night and day
With the blood of my children Holi* play
Besmirched in red
As the children were shot dead
The mother, in fury, said
These pieces of my heart
Should cry and I stand apart
Looking on from afar
This, I cannot do
* Spring festival played with coloured water
She walked came down to the ground
Like lightening flashing around
The tyrant’s hand trembled
Full of fear the gun frowned
Everywhere her echo did resound
I am hereby bound, I am coming for this round
I am hereby bound, I am coming for this round
Then oppression became evil
Panic-stricken were those who kill
When she thundered
As our children were murdered
She said, you vampires
Gold is the be all of your desires
This land belongs to us all
This land, you Dunces Esquires
Lackeys, still, to your British Sires
The sahib’s beneficence
Has not made you landlords: squires
Desist from this tyranny
Back to your barracks, flee
You, who rove ahead
With a gang of plunderers you have bred
As our children were shot dead
V
Maan
Bachchon pe chali goli
Maan dekh ke yeh boli
Yeh dil ke mere tukde
Yun royen mere hote
Mein dur khadi dekhoon
Yeh mujh se nahin hoga
Mein Dur khadi dekhun
Aur ahl-e sitam khelen
Khun se mere bachchon ke
Din-raat yahan holi
Bachchon pe chali goli
Maan dekh ke yeh boli
Yeh dil ke mere tukde
Yun royen mere hote
Mein dur khadi dekhun
Yeh mujh se nahin hoga
Meidan mein nikal aayi
Ek barq si lehrai
Har dast-e sitam kanpa
Bandooq bhi tharrai
Har simt sada gunji
Mein aati hun, mein aayee
Mein aati hun, mein aayee
Har zulm hua batil
Aur seham gaye qatil
Jab us ne zaban kholi
Bachchon pe chali goli
Us ne kaha khun-khwaro!
Daulat ke parastaro
Dharti hai yeh ham sab ki
Is dharti ko naa-dano!
Angrezon ke darbano!
Sahab ki ata-kardah
Jagir na tum jano
Is zulm se baaz aao
Bairak mein chale jao
Kyon chand luteron ki
Phirte ho liye toli
Bachchon pe chali goli
VI
The Garden Is A Bloody Mess
This poem is about the oppression in East Pakistan in 1971
Our eyes yearn for greenery
The garden is a bloody mess
For whom should I sing my songs of love
The cities are all a wilderness
The garden is a bloody mess
The rays of the sun, they sting
Moonbeams are a killing field, no less
Deep shadows of death hover at every step
Life wears a skull and bone dress
All around the air is on prowl
With bows and arrows, in full harness
The garden is a bloody mess
The battered buds are like a sieve
The leaves drenched in blood smears
Who knows, for how long
We’ll have this rain of tears
People how long do we have to bear
These days and nights of sorrow and distress
This oppressor’s blood bath is a frolicsome play
For the mighty of the world, a mark of their prowess
The garden is a bloody mess
VI
Bagiya Lahoo Luhan
Haryali ko aankhen tarsen bagiya lahoo luhan
Pyar ke geet sunaoon kis ko shehar hue weeran
Bagiya lahoo luhan
Dasti hain suraj ki kirnen chand jalaye jaan
Pag pag maut ke gehre saye jeewan maut saman
Charon ore hawa phirti hai le kar teer Kaman
Bagiya lahoo luhan
Chhalni hain kaliyon ke seeney khoon mein lat paat
Aur nahjaney kab tak hogi ashkon ki barsaat
Dunya walon kab beeteinge dukh ke yeh din raat
Khoon se holi khel rahe hain dharti ke balwan
Bagiya lahoo luhan
VII
God Is Ours
Addressed to religious hucksters of any denomination and the system they defend – translator’s note
God is not yours, to Him we have access
He does not look kindly on those who oppress
How long, you men of pelf, will you bleed us white
Get off our backs, you who in filthy lucre take delight
You satans it is dust that you will soon bite
We believe that He treats mankind with loving tenderness
He does not look kindly on those who oppress
Light of new wisdom we are going to see
A fire flares up, seeing our agony
In this new magical dawn will burst forth the blossoming tree
He brings hopes to those who are mired in distress
God is not yours, to Him we have access
He does not look kindly on those who oppress
We’ll break the shadowy spell of fear and dread
Onwards we will march, chains of despair we will shred
We’ll not betray the hopes of the people, our dear kindred
And long we will remember this time of duress
He does not look kindly on those who oppress
VII
Khuda Hamara Hai
Khuda tumhara nahi hai khuda hamara hai
Use zamin pe yeh zulm kab gawara hai
Lahoo piyoge kahan tak hamara dhanwano
Badhao apni dukan seem-o zar ke deewano
Nishan kahin na rahega tumhara shaitano
Hamein yaqeen hai ke insaan usko pyara hai
Khuda tumhara nahin hai khuda hamara hai
Use zameen pe yeh zulm kab gaawara hai
Nai shaoor ki hai roshni nigahon mein
Ek aag si bhi hai ab apni sard aahon mein
Khilenge phool nazar ke sahar ki bahon mein
Dukhe dilon ko isi aas ka sahara hai
Khuda tumhara nahin hai khuda hamara hai
Use zameen pe yeh zulm kab gawara hai
Tilism-e sayah-e khauf-o hiras todenge
Qadam bandhayenge zanjeere-e yaas todenge
Kabhi kisi ke na ham dil ki aas todenge
Rahega yaad jo ehd-e sitam guzara hai
Use zamin pe yeh zulm kab gawara hai
VIII
To Rakhshinda Zoya
13 April 1981, during a jail visit
She cannot say it, but then
My little one manages to say
Father, come home
Father, come home
She cannot comprehend
Why, in prison, I continue to stay
And not return with her, hand in hand
How should I explain to her
That home, too, is like a prison
Kot Lakhpat Jail
VIII
Rakhshinda Zoya Se
Keh nahin sakti par kehti hai
Mujh se meri nanhi bachchi
Abbu ghar chal
Abbu ghar chal
Us ki samajh mein kuchh nahin aata
Kyon zindan mein reh jaata hun
Kyon nahin saath mein uske chalta
Kaise nanhi samjhaoon
Ghar bhi to zindan ki tarah hai
IX
On Iqbal Centenary
When we arise to wake the poor, the have nots
A beeline to the police station they make, these wealthy sots
They say that God this wealth to them allots
Oh these trite excuses, oh these dusty plots
Night and day the working men’s blood they suck, o poet of the East
These congenital liars, with the vileness of a beast
IX
Yaum-E Iqbal Par
Log uthte hain jab tere ghareebon ko jagane
Sab shehar ke zardar pahunch jaate hain thane
Kehte hain yeh daulat hamein bakhshi hai khuda ne
Farsudah bahane wahi afsaane purane
Ai shair-e mashriq! Yehi jhute yehi bad zaat
Peete hain laoo banda-e mazdoor ka din raat
X
The Government of Jack Boots
If the dacoit had not had
The village guard as his ally
Our feet would not be in chains
Our victory would not defeat imply
Mourn with turbans round your necks
Crawling on your bellies, comply
Once the jack boot government is up
It’s hard, to make it bid good-bye
X
Bootan Di Sarkar
(Panjabi)
Dakuan da je saath na dinda pind da pehredar
Aj paireen zanjeer na hund jit na hundi har
Paggan apne gal wich pa lo turo pet de bhar
Chadh jaye te mushkil lehndi bootan di sarkar
Written during Yahya Khan’s dictatorship
Translated from the Urdu and Punjabi by fowpe sharma.
Transliterated from the Urdu by Hasan Abdullah.
Prepared for publication by Amar Farooqui
Like a freedom fighter fights for his land,
He held a pen in the palm of his hand.
Who would describe the love in his eyes?
Or the words he writ ; the tears that he cried.
His words justified not the eternal feel
The ecstacy left his utterance sealed
His soul flew high and his body dead
Drenched in madness he at once said: ‘This body you see is not really me.
It is just the shell of what used to be.
Pain has left and my mind is clear,
Best you can do is wipe my tears.
The joy I feel is impossible to tell.
Come. Come. dive in the well”
As ghoosebumps sprung I could clearly see,
That at last, my friend, he was finally free.
Like a freedom fighter fights for his land,
He held a pen in the palm of his hand.
For years I’ve prayed this would be my lot,
And now everywhere there is a face of God.
– Everywhere you turn is the Face of God.” – Quran (2:115)
Ever since God sent us for this test, we have faced numerous trials and tribulations. Human history is full of wars and acts disgraceful to humanity itself.
No group/nation claims to be wrong, none ever confessed erring and no human being ever disrupted the world peace, maybe angels from heavens were descending down and making humans kill each other, sometimes in the name of God, sometimes in lust of power and sometimes for a single woman!
Animal like characteristics overwhelm our lower selves; ego and we commit the most hideous crimes in revenge or to expect revenge. Every religion underlines the importance of “forgiving” and what splendors can this attribute of “forgiving” can infest in us. I shall go into the sapiens/Neanderthals, the crusades, the 20th century’s WWI and WWII. But reality remains that man has swum oceans like fishes and discovered secrets that one did not know existed; flown skies like birds and reached heights one’s ancestors could not even imagine, but as we enter the 21st century, a new global world where information and education is just a click away, we fail to respect each others right to live.
World scenario changed after 911. Islamic militants, who vow to defeat the “forces of evil” triggered one of the most successful terrorist attacks in the recent history and like said above, an even bigger and more inhumane “revenge”. Uncle Sam, the holy “Saudi Arabia” and the land of pure, after instigating (read: giving birth to) Islamic militants and using them as a shield against USSR, left them alone, only to progress with automatic rifles and what progress could automatic rifles bring?
Taliban and Al Qaeda rose to fame. The same Taliban who had Iftar dinners with Saudi kings, who were invited to USA and glorified as heroes, the same Islamic militant’s Pakistani intelligence (military) trained and were considered a strategic depth had now become enemies. Mysterious was the turn of time for them, as those who were once called valiant Mujahideen were now the worlds most wanted men. Again, like said above, no one was “wrong”. Every one party to using violence and teaching little kids the war of guerilla warfare backed out. Many international events led to Jihadi movements and its splinter groups, who believed in using terrorism as a weapon in their holy Jihad against the force of evil. They had forgotten the basic rules of how a Muslim fights, with what grace he never stoops to a level that is disgraceful to his own prestige.
How could a super power, with a military might unparalleled in history, stand an attack on its heart? The revenge was the call. Invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq, aerial bombings, killings of hundreds of thousands of innocent Muslims, incorporated with rapes, torture and crimes humanity could not own became the order of the day. Again, no one was wrong!
War has long figured as a theme in poetry–after all, some of the world’s oldest surviving poems are about great armies and heroic battles. But while Homer may have idealized his combatants and revered their triumphant, incessant fighting, the treatment of war in poetry has grown increasingly more complex since then.
The numerous conflicts of the twentieth century produced poets who sometimes chose to concentrate their writing on the horrifying effects of war on civilians. In Pablo Neruda’s famous poem about the Spanish Civil War, “I Explain a Few Things,” he discards metaphor entirely to say: “in the streets the blood of the children / ran simply, like the blood of children.” At the end of the poem he implores the reader to look at the devastating results of war:
Come and see the blood in the streets,
come and see
the blood in the streets,
come and see the blood
in the streets!
It’s shocking how humanity has progressed in science, philosophy and other fields but still yearns to learn the art of respecting each others right to live! Some people in the land of pure, on the lines of General Zia’s radicalization policies still propagate war and racism. Some even use it as a tool to define “patriotism”, forgetting “an eye for an eye will make everyone blind”. Forgetting that a war between two nuclear armed rivals, Pakistan and India could mean humanity may cease to exist in the Indo-Pak subcontinent. (Read potential consequences of an India-Pakistan war)
Go to war. Fight. Kill!
– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi : Plastic Tearz and Fake Smiles
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Jab Aamir nay, Jab Zaalim nay
Jab deen key jhotay aalim nay
Apas may tumhay laraaya tha
Nafrat ka sabaq parhaya tha
Tum apnoon say hi dartay thay
Apas may lartay martay thay
Jab maon behnoon key sar say
Wuh chaadar cheena kartay thay
Aur zulm ki chaahat bhartay thay
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Jab watan-e-aziz ki izzat ku
Wuh paon say ronda kartay thay
Iqbal key shaheen bachay bhi
Ek Haq ki baat say dartay thay?
Jab choor daaku mil kar sab
Taaqat key aiwanoon may
Qanuun banaya kartay thay
Aur qaatil loot key ghurbat say
Gallion may faakhir phirtay thay Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Jab chaand tara jhanday ka
Zulmat ki aag may jalta tha
Tum sooba sooba kartay thay
Aur kaafir kaafir kehtay thay
Uss key naam pey dharti may
Khoon bahaya kartay thay.
Khud kash hamlon say apnay
Kya khoob tamasha kartay thay.
Ab Uss say naala kartay ho?
Ab Zaidi tumsay kehta hai
Key waqt hi tumsay puchay ga
KAHAN THAY PAKISTANI TUM? KAHAN THAY PAKISTANI TUM?
You may not see the life I’ve lived,
The scars on my face,
Or my soul within,
The truths that lie covered,
The secrets under my skin,
Where should I start, where should I begin?
Neither is there a tree nor a child behind,
Let the whirlpool of thoughts unwind in your mind,
The things that I do,
The thoughts in my mind that brew,
I will not reveal until the search for the ‘real’ me I pursue,
In clutching shackles,
Mystic fires,
Rising temptations and desires,
Walled my body may remain,
But deep inside,
The essence of my being,
I will reign,
Do you scare me?
Frustrate me?
Intice or irritate me?
The answers to these questions only be heart can decree,
To take off my mask,
How can I risk?
When the reality of my existence you haven’t tried to probe or ask,
Maybe there is,
A little of ‘you’ in ‘me’,
Waiting to be free,
There lies nothing to be exposed,
Maybe you haven’t looked deep enough,
Into my eyes,
To find a ‘you’ standing in disguise”
Before you look in the mirror of my eyes
Dont pretend to smile, dont wear disguise
I cant see your soul, see the life you live
Only source of truth is the bit that you give
Am I talking to the tree or child behind?
The whirlpool of thoughts clutter my mind
I want to know the truth, all that you do
The things that you think, the “you” that is true
Are you looking for dogma to live like a cult
Or seeking the truth like a mystic adult
Are you looking to live, living to find
Freedom from cages that limit your mind?
Do I scare you? Frustrate you?
Intice you or irritate you?
Do I shake your concepts or weaken your trust
Do I call dust, ashes and ashes, dust?
Look in my eyes, what do you see ?
Reflection of you, with sincerity
Do you see a little of yourself in me ?
Now take off the mask, so we can be free
Call me unfaithful, call me a liar
Curse my existence, damn me to fire
But expose the real, “you” have tried to hide
It may resemble the “me” that lies inside..
– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi
A wanderer, a mad man!
Sketch Courtesy: Visaal Hashmi
An aeronautical engineer by force, an activist by mind, a wanderer by soul and lover by heart. Founder - Pakistan Youth Alliance
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Ali_Abbas_Zaidi
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"The artist-activist brings a bohemian flair to his call for greater religious tolerance. Zaidi says hes working towards a ‘progressive’ & ‘democratric’ future his country"
> http://bit.ly/dE6fam
Seems confirmed as multiple news channels have started reporting that PIA is indeed suspended for atleast 06 months. twitter.com/Ali_Abbas_Zaid…2 days ago
Hearing unconfirmed news of a potential ban of Pakistan International Airlines in the EU region due to non-complian… twitter.com/i/web/status/1…3 days ago
@DrAyeshaRay I don't see how that benefits him presently as the said group doesnt have sizeable representation in parliament. 4 days ago
@0marHaye Different debate. He is the PM now. Represents a Federation and her stances etc. 4 days ago
Why isn't PM Imran Khan clarifying or apologising for his statement calling OBL a martyr?
Ego or ideology? 4 days ago
