Ubaidullah Pandit (عبيدالله پنڈت)

Five, two or one,  I know not how many talents I possess, Burying them is death is the sole thing I know. Thanks to my Master who bestowed them on me, Glory be to Him for his bounteous Generosity. I shall Nurture what I hold in me, That hidden trove more precious than ruby. I shan't be lazy, neither be sloth, For I'll make my Master happy. My talent shall be my lamp, For it'll cast out the eternal darkness. My talent shall be my peace, For multiplied will be my happiness.

Wafting through air comes Hope, 'Rise, rise, rise,' whispers it in my ear.  Leave despair and be the one of hopelessness,  Hold me high for if you do, you live, Live in me for if you do, you never die. Never be despondent over what you lost, My succor will bring joy to your life.  Let not dejection haunt you,  Let not your sob deafen you.  Open your eyes and let me be in you,  For you shall be born anew.  Pant after me for you need me,  Let me be the one who soothe you. Seek solace in me, see a ray of sunshine. 

Ubaidullah Pandit Today marks the anniversary of two brutal and vicious incidents that took place on this day, i.e. 16 th   of December; one in 2012 and the other 2014. The incidents revealed some of the darkest sides of man, manifesting how a group of men can turn beasts.  Before I say something about them presently, I would like to say a few words regarding anniversaries. Anniversaries are not always to be celebrated or mourned.  Their remembrance and observance should go beyond celebration and mourning. They act as reminders and lessons, setting rules and precedents for our future conduct of different sorts like social, political, ethical and so forth. Looking from that perspective, anniversaries act as a form of tutelage and edification of the minds of people. By remembering something, we essentially refresh and revisit our thoughts and ideas we have of that particular thing, thereby lending ourselves an opportunity to look at things objectively and from differen...

Ubaidullah Pandit My feet stand beneath hers, My hands are over her loins. Her bosom meets our hearts, My lips lie upon hers. Her warmth transfers, Coldness in me still remains. Poor heart of mine pulsates, It seems the first cycle begins. Out of shyness she smiles, Out of passion she says, I feel being in the valley of Eros, Let's make this the best of unions.