With a strike on the rock!
And the lights appeared!
And a smite on the block!
There’s no grief or fear!
In the fifth of the year
Deep in the Shawwal
Stirring hearts dug a trench
By the great Dhubab
Enemies far and near
Were conspiring high
To destroy the new faith
To observe it die
Outnumbered, facing death
Odds did not look good
But the hope did not die
And the Prophet stood
With a strike on the rock!
And the lights appeared!
And a smite on the block!
There’s no grief or fear!
Continue readingMy soul’s shimmering, sighing Ya Muhammad!
The darkness within, brightens with Muhammad!
I rest in the soft nest of the kindness of Muhammad
I flee, an escapee, to the mercy of Muhammad
I’m blessed by the largesse and the finesse of Muhammad
I’m lost like a poor moth in the pure cloth of Muhammad
I’m stirred like a wild bird by the true words of Muhammad
I’m bright by the sheer sight of the deep light of Muhammad
I sigh as I float high in the night skies of Muhammad
I’m free, a devotee, in the great seas of Muhammad
I run and then I plunge in the ocean of Muhammad
I’m fine as I incline to the sunshine of Muhammad
I fear and I shed tears at the night prayers of Muhammad
I’m dyed and purified by the dark eyes of Muhammad
My choice is to rejoice at the clear voice of Muhammad
I’m buoyed and overjoyed by the envoys of Muhammad
The plea of Yessevi is my copy for Muhammad
My pen finds redemption by the mention of Muhammad
Allah bless him and grant him peace and his family and companions and sanctify the secret of Hazrat Ahmed Yessevi,
I’m dressing up for Juma’,
Suited and looking fine
No t-shirts nor tracksuits today
I want to impress the Divine
I yearn to get there early
And be acknowledged for
Arriving to the first in line
Angels tick me off at the door
Continue readingI’m here to dismantle some wicked lies
About the Prophet and his blessed wives
Some haters promulgate misleading views
About Muhammad may God’s peace imbue
Propagandists echo their disgust
About our Prophet which is so unjust,
They scorn our feelings for the chosen one
Spreading misinformation to stir tensions
Continue readingWHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR SAHOOR?
Fried eggs sizzling, paratha from tandoor?
Buttered paratha in the shape of the full moon?
Paratha filled with succulent Aloo?
Now that would be so absolutely cool!
In Ramadan I just appreciate the food!
WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR IFTAAR?
Biryani made with chicken and piyaar?
Mango milkshake, my wife is such a star!
Homemade samosa and pakora!
So spicy they would tantalise a Gora!
In Ramadan the food is best by far!
WHAT WILL BE MY WORSHIP FOR TARAWEE?
Speeding through rakats in such a hurry?
Coz I’m feeling bloated from the curry?
Head and heart pulsating in a flurry?
I need to sleep, Allah, I am so sorry!
In Ramadan, take your time, no need to worry!
“WHAT WILL THEY GAIN TONIGHT?” The angels surveyed.
“Nice suhoor? So, they feel strong at day?”
“Light Iftar, so they feel light to pray?”
“Recite Quran, to clear the disarray?”
“Staying up to perform Qiyam Al Layl?”
“In Ramadan, the nafs can fade away…”
“There’s no fear or grief from these pure days…”
Pull your choler through the mud
Collar Beelzebub
Numb your Id
Benumb shrew blood
Succumb through and through to the One True Flood
Notes:
The intention of this piece is to highlight the absolute wonder and majesty of Surah Ikhlas vis a vis the limitations of human endeavour (ie- my own). I also love the sounds and aural qualities of Surah Ikhlas, and I guess I am trying to capture some of the sublime sounds of it within the English language.
Choler- formal- anger
Beelzebub- ancient synonym for the Devil
Id- from Freud’s theories about the subconscious- the Id refers to the hidden desires and obsessions within human consciousness
Shrew- refers to a rebellious personality
In appreciation of verse 155, Sura Baqarah, Al Quran Al Hakeem
I’d heard this verse
Many times before
But I fell in the world’s momentum
And now I’m drawn,
Like a looping moth
To the light of
Wa La Nablu Wanna Kum
I’d heard this verse
So deep and terse
But I swayed in a sea of fevers
But now I am swept
Like a floating wreck
To the shores of
Wa la Nablu Wanna Kum
I’d heard this verse
With a heart immersed
In the dread of the world’s hysteria
But now the only thing to panic-buy
Is the key for
Wa la Nablu Wanna Kum
I’d heard this verse
In the Friday prayers
While my mind viewed conspiracy theories
But now the fake news
Needs to be rebuked
With the truth of
Wa la Nablu Wanna Kum
I’d heard this verse
In the universe
Of talks and the deen intensives
But now all the notes
And inspiring quotes
Need to act on
Wa la Nablu Wanna Kum
I’d heard this verse
When things were worse
For the poor folk mired in outbreaks
But now the vaccine
For my uncertainties
Is the pledge of
Wa la Nablu Wanna Kum
Dear COVID,
I’m NOVID
And I’m older by 42
I’ve seen the SARS
Mad Cow disease
And AIDS and Avian flu
Bird flu, Man-flu, Ebola
I’ve seen them on the news
And now you’re here, Corona crown
Pandemic so epically
Epidemic of our media age
Behaving untypically
Scourge of men and stock markets
Endemic to the earth
A pulsing strain of pathogens
You’re spreading round your worth!
Soon you may encounter me
Coughing through NOVID then
Coasting through my veins and blood
We’d meet and start to blend
COVID could imbue NOVID
Then I would be your host
Conflated with an acronym
Not such a thing to boast!
Now name-calls in registers
Could make me squirm in shame
People may remember you
When they gaze at my name
I guess if I spread ill like you
They’ll see COVID in NOVID then
I guess if I harass the weak
COVID in NOVID then
Your name could blight me, permanently
No cheer would my name give
Thoughts of dire suffering
By saying just: NOVID
But if I learn the art of love
Like Tiresias transcend
If I spread verse and elegies
OVID in NOVID then!
But If I learn to weather storms
Like Ulysses and his men
If I ride waves of discontent
OVID in NOVID then!
So COVID 19 here you are
With NOVID 77
Perhaps there’s poetic justice
Perhaps there is a blessing
Perhaps through you I’ll know myself
And wash hands for 20 seconds!
By Novid Shaid
For Shelley
I met a traveller from a digital land
Who said: “Two vast and wireless screens and phones,
Stand in some memories. Near them, on discarded toilet rolls,
Spread out, a printed message lies, with fonts
So micro soft, and typefaces for command prompts,
Tell that its printer well that software read
Which yet survive, stamped on these paper sheets,
The ink that stained them and lines that smudged
And on the strips of rolls, it can be read:
‘My name is Intermandias,
Look on my works, ye ancients, and despair!’
Nothing online remains. Round the decay
Of this obsolete tech, boundless and rich
The lone and loving souls stretch far away.”
Adam and Hira had just turned twenty, when they realised, they were in prison. Now they could see four monumental walls topped with barbed wire to the north, south, east and west. Now they could make out the prison officer uniforms on men and women they had not noticed before. Now they could see other prisoners around them, looking and behaving much like themselves. Fear and anguish grew chains around their hands and ankles; the couple struggled to move as the realisation took hold of them; their breaths quickened and sweat trickled on their heads. How on earth did they not realise this before? Why were they prisoners? What had they done wrong? As far as they knew, they had lived an average life in an average town, following the law of the land, most of the time, and keeping out of trouble. Yet now they found themselves languishing behind towering walls and barbed wire.
Continue reading