Maula, Jahan dekhoon, Buss Tu hee Tu Hai

by Aanya F Niaz

Inquiring within, I’m at a loss because to be lost is my reward for asking.

Shattered by the bewildering confusion that unsettles my tranquility, I cannot be found because I believe that the roshni is somewhere, that glimmer I seek, it is bedazzled, mesmerizing but in a perpetually developing medium of confusion. Nothing is clear. The mirror speaks to me with a glimpse of an answer in one eye, and the other eye lid coming together, kissing one another, ensuring I cannot capture the clarity the other eye has seen.

In my house of dreams, I look around but I cannot be seen – I raise my hands above, high towards the sky and I feel the tips of my fingers, dripping with the sweat of my longing for a taste of an answer, but the only response I receive is a palette of twirling winds, gurgling waters and a storm of thoughts and charismatic perceptions that lead me astray even further.

I am lost. I am living. I am breathing. I am lost because that is the only way to be. I will welcome you to my house, only if you see Maula with me.. Only if you will be sacred in my sins and my virtues, only if you will forget to tell the difference between the two. The gist of my soul is unknown till the day it collapses into the dark abyss of the ocean; where truth will remain hidden as a precious pearl, sparkling with virtue, purity and clarity. But by then, my soul will be dead, and I will not be able to tell. That, to, me, is, life.

Meray Maula –

Tu wohi hai, jo samajh mei nai aata.

Tu wohi jawab hai, jis ko mei dhoondi nahi pati.

Tu woh sab hai jis ko mei chahtay huay paa nai sakti.

Mei iss ishq mei magan hoon.. Is ishq-e-gham mei, jiss mei meri khushi magan hai.


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