farid khan

Saturday, December 17, 2011
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Farid (b-29/1/1975) is a young Hindi poet, now –a- days he is writing scripts for Films and TV serials.
e - mail : kfaridbaba@gmail.com







Farid Khan is a coeval poet who makes you take a second look at your perception of life and social conditions. His thoughts transform into words which bring forth the black and white together with the gray areas of modern day life. You'll find that poetry being Farid's heartfelt expressions, conveys the clarity, turmoil, the confusion, and the humble submission of thoughts and emotions in simple words.

Aparna Bhagwat







painting:jai  zharotia
GANGA MOSQUE

Down the memory lane
I recall those childhood days in Patna
I used to stare for hours at the waters of Ganga
standing on the top of a minaret of a Ganga-Mosque.
Ganga used to prank about and kick the Mosque
used to say in her wanton ways: Hey, Musalmaan! You’ve never bathed in my holy waters!
Then she took a turn and rushed far away laughing mischievously.
Laughing boisterously, the Mosque too did not spare Ganga and pushed her to the distant end.
Even the birds chirped blithely at that.
This pandemonium jolted the muezzin out of his afternoon siesta
and the Mosque hurried back to its place
Ganga too slipped down to Bengal.
And the birds twittered and mocked the muezzin.
The muezzin used to lower down a bucket from the minaret top
and drew Ganga water for his prayers
he did the vuzu
then performed the azaan.
People came too
drew Ganga water
did vuzu and performed the namaaz
and returned back.
Now after eighteen years
I stand on top of the same minaret
gazing, while Ganga gently laps the Mosque.
Now the government supplies clean water for performing vuzu
and the muezzin sleeps restlessly , occasionally changing sides.
Ganga kisses and drenches the Mosque lovingly
but the Mosque has turned his face away.
Ganga looks at me bewildered
and I look at Ganga
the Mosque looking in another direction, indifferent.


A Tiger 


I believe to save the game of his existence
The tiger will become a poet ,
just as the dinosaurs evolved into lizards .
And at times the poet into a tiger


It is only a Paw
which makes a tiger and a poet- compeers .
They both leave their pug marks, only to get killed.

Mahadev

As the Sun rises
the sky turns azure
It seems Mahadeva has awakened
A Neel - Purush ( The Divine cerulean ) is ready to get upright and slowly brushes off ash .
The azure soul turns bright and luminous .
As the Sun moves down , Mahadeva is again engrossed in his meditation .
The dark blue turns sapphire ... deeper and fathomless .
And the night approaches .

 (Translated by Aparna Manoj)



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