Ubaidullah Pandit (عبيدالله پنڈت)

Enough of sober dialing from house of the ill, I’ll drunk-dial from Ka’bah to God’s busy line. He’s been lately moving on to greater stations, Spots one every day. That I heard. I've drunk dialed before to my lover's mother, Alas! That day her father picked up. 'Hello, who's this?', his tone made my ears bleed.' 'I am from a street booth, checking on and out your line.' I'll be a little more discreet when dialing God's line; Though it's busy more often than not, I'll keep pressing the keys zero to nine, Dawn to dusk, round the clock, from Jan to Dec.

Lift her bridal veil and reach out to her bosom. If she yields, love and take her to the ocean of eternity And bathe her till the ocean dries up. Take her ashore only to wait for the ocean to fill again. Remain nude until the ocean calls you back, Then jump into the deep waters to cover your bodies. Enliven the aquatic life with your love And make it the envy of every single drop That helps complete the deep. Make the oceanic souls compose a song And make them sing in unison with the waves of water. Bless the winds above with your breath. Hand in hand take a walk deep down the oyster beds. Leave your fragrance there for the pearls to bloom. (02-June-2016)

You carry a million Jhelums in each strand, Yours is longer and stronger than Rapunzel. Let it down like rain, let it flow with rage, To them turn September the seventh again. Yours is sleek, sleeker than silk, Shinier than a million suns in the sky. For them turn it into a hanglady’s noose, Rise a little and set their world aflame. My love, my love! How could they sever yours? Tell them, Of old I'm the inmate of your locks. Your braid breeds Love shackles stronger than iron, Love bars as hard as Zeus' Bolt. To my brave but fear-stricken Lady.

The Sun is scorching and its heat full of poignancy. I am sweaty, perspiring profusely. The path seems unending and the journey unendurable. No shades, not a single tree, no oasis, not even a mirage. But where does that moonbeam come from in sunlit day; So pleasant and cool, burning the Sun and the heat thereof? I look up, but there's no fount. What’s this drizzle? It’s rejuvenating, and dries up all my sweat. I look up again, but the sky is clear. I look around and see a milestone by the roadside. It’s painted blue, not yellow. It reads, ‘Congratulations! You’ve walked 22 miles.’ (25-June-2016)

The October Sun is on the horizon, About to shine pleasantly over the hills, Vales, on gold green and autumn fields. The rays stretch from Maisuma to Zabarwan To spray the colors of love over the waters of Dal. I again feel a little of Dilli here, craving for the aroma Of you, of the ship that sails the sea of our love. My feathers gladdened are ready to take me up, And fly over to you with some presents of kinship, With a packet of nostalgia and a smile of friendship. The October Sun is on the horizon Like the new Moon of the happiest of months To welcome the arrival of revelation. My love-tanned zeal for you is dancing high, Along being born over and again. To Tanzeel Khan On and for his forthcoming birthday. 

What matured lately! Tears welled up, pain bloomed, But Hope only in Silhouette. She though offered her palette, Ever pleasing to the eyes, I could paint love only in Silhouette. Her divine grace, veiled face, Ever to me sentence of death, I saw her not when she was in Silhouette. Breathe in me your love again, Cast your light onto hopeless shadows, I no more want to be in Silhouette. 

Back in the days I was dead, I had an affair with the Grave I was buried in. Much time did I spend in and with her. Out of the love we made she conceived trinity:  The life I would live, The promise of coming back to her someday, And keeping her in my  remembrance  day in, day out. (Christmas Eve- 24/12/15)

The first died and the last drowned.  The middle became insane.  Of all, I lingered, remained and expanded.  I reached the remotest of stars.  I preached to the wickedest of sinners.  I shone more than the Sun.  I burnt more than Hell.  I lit many a wet wick.  Many a sick I cured.

I am a part that long split from a whole. The whole that circulates to meet its start. I am the last that lost its past, And the past that searches for its present. I am and am in a pain That day in and day out gains weight. I am blue-turned-black ink That flows from the pen broken into twain. I am a case that awaits the trial In a courtroom of crooked jury. I still long to rise and vie for justice. I seek my start to complete my end. I look for splinters to gather them up, And present my last with the first and the past. (09-April-2016)

Today your love for me Matures one score and three. Happiness ever sought, Today I am by one score and three. Hand in hand, pat on my back, Today I cover miles of one score and three. My love goes out to you   As I turn one score and three. Glory be to Him Who hitherto Let me walk one score and three.   What is it if not His Generosity that He let me live one score and three?

Who migrates by the stars Hanging from the sky of Destiny Nights, I must turn that bird tonight. Forever needs a little stretch, The night must not draw on to be the day, For the journey must be circuitous tonight. High up the planes of existence, Higher still to the divine Love Council, I must transcend the transcendence tonight. Bound to the chains of sinfulness, Desirous to be sinless child again, This Abd must turn Ubayd tonight.

How long be I an impatient Inpatient? Tell them to certify my death soon now. There’s a queue of more waiting outside, Spare some bed, some room, a little pain now. I’ve breathed long, too much to have, Tired of whirling, my blood vies to stop now. I know the color of some spilled here, It’s of the vessel that carries not a breeze now. It’s been beating since seasoned with anguish, Give my heart some moments of peace now. It's too long a stint for many a foot,  Of me just relieve them and this ICU now.

In the divine calendar of Love, Pinned high up the wall of hopes, I have marked the moment we met. Though we’re yet to meet in body, Separated by the terrains yet to be trodden, Do you remember when our spirits did? In the garb of mortals, all too mortal, Wrinkled to the heels, vying to be ironed, Do you remember when each other we wore? In the miserable prison of life, Confined in our Twoness, Do you remember breaking out to Oneness? In my earthly absence, Miles away from me, Do you remember the time of our union? In the divine calendar of Love, Pinned high up the wall of hopes, Just eye up the mark, the moment we met.

Yesterday, by the touch of nostalgic breezes, My love for you went travelling all the way to Dilli. Grooming self in the parlor of memory lanes, My love for you was a bride bound for Dilli. Passing through the ages of Zaina Kadal, Our moments along, my love for you left for Dilli. Stopping by the Bund just at the start, My love for you took a little of the Jhelum to Dilli. Waiting for the craved cry, all dressed up as if My love for you was just a mile away from Dilli. I, hoping for it to be there soon, waiting to hear, 'Your love for me made me feel home all of Dilli.' To Tanzeel Khan, Delhi

Since when did woman need a day? Ain't hers the time, unending and everlasting? Like the Sun, hasn’t she been shining, Ever lighting over the horizons vast and reaching? Like the Moon, hasn’t she been around whirling, Ushering in the tides of hope and happiness? Tell me, since when did she need a day? Turning houses homes, beasts humans, Ain’t she carving what lay hidden for ages? Bearing life, flowing like the spring streams, After God, ain’t she the one who makes us? Pervading ever like a divine zephyr, Ain’t she the seasons to all our years? Then tell me, since when did she need a day?

Picking up the receiver of Love, I dial God, Pleasure and Happiness. The lamenting dial tone eagerly waits So as to turn mellow to the hopeless ears. Through the mouthpiece of Beelzebub, I send my supplications along the line of whores. Sorted in the switching center of brothels, They go through mosques and shrines of hate. 'It's a long-distance call, too long to get across. The called party is asleep after a long orgy, The calling party, you, seems drunk. Please dial the toll free Pain, Nice Day!'

Is anyone of you travelling to Happiness? I haven't been there lately, do intimate please. For a while, happening to be forever, I've been here, waiting for a passer-by To take me along, with the caravan Bound for Happiness, leaving behind signs Of smiles, hopes, rewards and rest. I know no routes that lead there, But I'm hopeful as I see no marks yet. I'll wait for the caravan, do intimate please. I'll wait out the winds, live off the land, Look ever for you to pass, do intimate please. Would that I be found, I’ll hold the beacon Beneath the changing skies and raging rains, Hearken ever to rustling leaves, just intimate please.

Bare bosom and sandalwood worn,   She leads the prayer   And blesses the rug with her feet.   In the niche her virtues play,   Reflecting the light and enlivening darkness.   Sublimely she hides God in her cleavage   And calls upon the Devil for a drink.

Envious curtains refuse to be drawn across, As the eyes of the walls seek to get a glimpse Of the long awaited Oneness of us the Lovers. Shame be known and absolved, I with her venture into the fields of hate, Only to be lit by the lonesome yet full Moon, To be seen by the skies and God the Glorious. Vying to shelter and shower, the plumes of love Keep seeking out the fragrance of us the twain. The dew wet greenery we lie upon finds a hope Of spring that brings flowers in full bloom, New life, new rays, new pastures, new universe.

I with my Love sin among the lush green trees, Unbeknown to Him, we break the divine sanctity. Naked, looking across the verdant verdure, We lie beneath the tree, the knowing. Image of God faded, our Selves took over, Ah, the envy of God our Union is! Ashamed, the serpent slithers away, ‘Where do I find my lost angelhood?’ Cries. I with my Love meet again at the horizon, Out of our sinful Union we shine galore. Withered once, the tree knowing conceives, Joyous once, the tree living turns barren.

I lost my wallet while wandering between The pillar of despair and the post of hope. It’s colored dark, switching ever between White and black, pain and relief. Made of sinful desires, it's damp With the sweat of immoral earnings. Would that you, the one sharing in my soul, Find it, never return it please. Too long it's been with me now, Send it along through your routes. It contains cries and sighs of mine, Meant to be dispatched to Eternity. In the smallest pocket is my lost Identity Which they will demand at the Entrance. In the middle of the fold is God, Who'd been asleep when I lost it. The pocket beside contains Emptiness, Which is ever awake, waiting thirstily. O the finder, never return it please, Send it along through your routes.