Asif Raza
1
WHAT pain afflicts you so, daughter
That head laid on your knees,
You sob convulsively?
At disembarking on your shores,
A tortuous trail has brought me
To your hidden passageway.
On my wobbly legs I stand,
Knocking on your bolted door.
Come down and welcome me.
Overhearing your name in muffled tones,
I set off to track down your domicile.
Buffeted by the gusts of wind
I stand outside,
Shivering in the biting cold.
(I wonder why, my sable–skin,
Wrapped in which
I crossed the icy wilderness
Does not warm me now)
Why don’t you answer?
Do you think
An intruder is standing at your doorsteps?
Or a mangy beggar from the street?
Alas, you are muted (like a tombstone) —
Don’t you recognize my voice?
(The one you loved and held in high esteem)
Come down fulfill your filial obligation,
Usher me in,
(With your head covered, that is,
Showing the modesty,
Owed to her father by a well-bred daughter).
Hunger gnaws at my entrails —
Lay me a rag upon your dusty floor,
And serve me food–
(A noble deed, for which you may be rewarded
In the afterlife).
I do not expect much from you:
Hand me over some loaves of bread–
And a pint or half of lentil soup
(Leftover from your last supper)
In a beggar’s bowl
That’s all.
I am thirsty too —
Just hold high in your hands the pot,
And pour down some water
Into the hollow of my two cupped hands.
If it is not too much to ask
Throw me a bare cot —
In your servants’ quarter.
I am bone-weary from my arduous trek,
And my heart is like a shrunken lake.
My wish is now is to lay myself in bed,
Pull a sheet over my face and sleep,
Never to rise again.
2
You are still absconding?
Perhaps the proud abode above
In which you have burrowed yourself
Forbids you to stoop to talk to me?
Wayward daughter!
Your ordained place is at your father’s feet!
Come down the stairs at once
I order you:
Pick up the broom!
And sweep the dusty floor
(Since your honored sire deserves to sit
On a clean spot.)
Do you want to hold your father up to shame?
Then take him round your gloomy house–
Show him the exotic curtains with arabesque designs,
(That used to grace your window panes
When you were my child.)
Show him the intricately woven Persian rugs,
The Ottoman divans in your bed-chamber–
And the burnished copper cauldron
With your lauded name engraved on it!
Do you hear?
How, uprooted from its heritage,
The dog of the Chinese calendar–
(Hanging on your alien wall)
Furiously barks at you?
I suspect you are watching me
From your clandestine peek hole!
(Your alien face is ashen with fear,
As if you have seen a ghost!)
But maybe, having assured yourself,
That I am a prowling burglar
You hold a pistol in your hand,
Ready to pull the trigger–
Or perhaps you would let me in only
If I produce proof of my identity?
The names of your noble ancestors
Come trembling to my lips.
(Alas, the mark of your tender kiss
That once shone on your father’s brow
Now stains it like a blot.)
3
My daughter of noble birth,
Let me refresh your memory
Of the land of your far-flung forefathers.
Standing by your bedside,
The blue fairy of the sapphire palace,
Used to fan you
With its diaphanous wings.
In the verdant woods,
Mornings would wait for you
You would peep inside the fragrant grottos,
Holding my hand.
Do you recall,
Those mythic heights you loved to climb
With me by your side?
Your eyes would search for that mysterious flower
Which was nowhere to be found under the sun.
The mountain used to offer you its august seat;
And the palm tree with its leafy branch,
Spread out like a peacock feather fan,
Would wave it bending over you
Like a servitor:
Your brow exuded pride.
4
You who are now in love with solitude–
Has happiness closed its doors on you?
Your eyes, deprived of sleep, are shut,
What phantom shapes encircle you?
Your windowpane is blinded by a coat of dust
In vain I try to look inside;
O daughter of my dreams!
Show me your unblemished face;
Prove to me that you are not cast down
But, are still exalted, like before,
So that I may feel exalted too!
I wait for you:
Why don’t you come out with your head held high?
Have you cast away your moon-shaped ear-rings
Whose twinkle would bedazzle all beholder’s eyes?
Why don’t you come and throw your arms around me?
Because the beaded ambergris necklace
Graces your neck no more?
Your eyes have lost their sparkle?
You have disowned the oriental ruby
That once your finger used to flash?
My face is turned towards the past
I sigh:
Raise your head, hung low in shame,
And answer me, disgraced daughter:
Have you let that precious toy
Fall to the ground and shatter into pieces—
That I had gifted you in your childhood–
With a tender kiss upon your brow?
Has your sun set behind the foggy mound?
You, who are now as graceful as a slab of ice,
Your dwelling place looks like a tomb.
You do not have a moment’s rest?
An insect claws at your heart ceaselessly.
O daughter of my golden dream,
Soul of your father!
Call me from your cold and dark dungeon!
5
Should I believe that restless in your chamber,
You pace all night long
Under the shadow of an apparition?
Should I believe that your hair
Has lost both its fragrance and its luster?
That terrors now hold you hostage?
That often you wake up from your nightmare with a scream
But the overhanging chandelier
Does not dispel the darkness that besieges you?
Your soul is like a barren landscape;
Upon a mound under the burning midday sun,
Dressed in your widow’s clothes you stand,
Your eyes fixated on the distant void.
You sleep-walk at night with your arms outstretched—
At whose call?
Whom do you want to clasp in your embrace?
Whose name your lips repeat?
The exhalations of your burning heart
Turned into tears
Roll down your face.
What does the mountain wind whisper
In your ears?
Upon which you raise your bowed head
And hold it high with pride,
And bedeck your neck and ears
With exotic jewelry:
The stream offers you its translucent mirror.
When the dawn breaks
You stand, with a thin thread of tears stretched,
In wait, upon a broken bridge,
Peering down the chasm under your feet
Like a goose with broken wings.
6
Those days you were my angel!
Your melodious voice echoed in my soul.
But suddenly one day,
You pirouetted on your heels
And nonchalantly, bade me goodbye
(I saw the wings that flapped on your shoulders.)
You used to listen when I played my lyre,
Was my tune too elegiac for your playful ears?
My notes too flat and mournful?
Breaking with me,
You averted your optimistic gaze
Towards a new inviting world:
Your eyes were bedazzled
By the diamond glittering in your dream.
In communion with the distant horizon,
You looked like a ship that had its sails stretched
Ready to embark upon its maiden voyage.
7
Upon the sound of my footfall
Your premises have suddenly fallen silent–
Like an assassin trying to conceal
Evidence of his crime.
But my sharp eyes can easily detect the signs
(I hear a fearsome howl—
Have you let loose a bloodhound after me?)
From your faded branches,
No twittering bird darts to the sky
And your shallow pond does not offer,
To one who leans forward to behold,
The lambent moon,
Evasively, its water has receded to the bottom.
Your grass, tall and dry
Does it hide a snake in wait for me? —
(In my heel, I feel a shooting pain.)
I am well acquainted with these walls
My sharp eyes well recognize scratched on them
The handwriting of Death.
I, who meticulously have saved
All pages of your narrative,
Know well the covenant
That you had entered into with the world.
Exhibiting its nakedness,
The philistine pillar vulgarly bares itself to me–
Have you murdered the climbing morning glory
That entwining around it kept it covered up?
Tell me, my festive daughter,
Why have you locked yourself up
In a coal-dark chamber?
Sternly I demand: tell me,
Is it true that you have sold
My noble heritage for just a pittance?
!s it true that the Eastern wind
Holding your head,
Powders your parted hair with dust?
Is it true that like before
The spring does not shower on you, subserviently,
Its variegated colors?
Is it true that a troupe of eunuchs
Dances all day long at your door?
That mocking you, they stretch their hands
To grope your shriveled breasts
Bereft of a mother’s milk?
Is it true that your sterile womb
Bears no shining pearl?
8
Come out, unveil yourself to me
Tell me whose ghost are you!
But alas, I already know:
You are a surge
Of my own tumultuous sea–
Leave the shade and step forward, daughter
Into the glow of your father’s undying love.
Our dream of life is woven by illusions.
Our truth is but the contrivance of a mirage.
The green that overlays the desert sand
Is nothing,
But the craving of our own coloring eyes.
My ugly daughter, head buried in your pillow,
Do not sob
Come into my loving embrace.
Don’t hide from me
Your pock-marked face
Let me hold it in my hands–
And kiss it.
I am a cloud, heavy with rains,
Come under me
So that I may bathe you
In the showers of my love
I am a deep and dark forest
Enter into me
And discover your sought-after Juniper tree.
Within me, though I carry snow,
But sunshine too,
The one does not negate the other
Come and feel me
How warm I am to touch!
Come let me rest your mangy head
Upon my breast,
And make you fall in love with the deep sea again,
In which twist and turn life’s restless dreams,
And in whose darkness, riddles swim.
Peer down with your benighted eyes:
The mystery of our being is hidden there.
Do you see
The demons that are at play in the deep?
But do not be afraid, my child,
For I, your father, am by your side.
The lonesome tree that withered stands
In proximity to the rains
Does it not look exalted to you?
Deep down in the mirror of your soul
Do you see a reflection
Of that flower which opens its petals
Only in the dark?
If so, then torture me as much as you want
For I will not complain;
I am a string—stretched for you—
Come, pluck at me
So that you may discover
Your nervous fingers
And reveal my sound to me,
That I have always pined to hear.
9
How wondrous is this joy mingled with sorrow!
My tears run down my face.
Daughter, break this wall that sunders us apart–
Do you hear your father’s trembling voice?
He has forgiven you!
Leaning our backs against the riven wall
And spurning the world’s petty noise,
Let us once again
Open our hearts to each other;
And refresh our mythic memories.
Why don’t you erase the distance parting us?
Because you are not eager to?
Why do you shun my love’s embrace?
Because you are afraid that in my arms
You might melt away?
I, who was once a granite rock,
Am silted down to sand.
Give me a sign!
Look! How upon the mound
I have dropped down on my knees!
Out-stretching my arms toward the sky
To hold your moon-like shining face!
O beautiful daughter of dreams!
What eternity you are frozen in
Would you never speak to me again?
Perhaps you have awakened from your sleep!
I hear a mournful note,
Break loose from the starry sky.
And languidly fall to the ground.
**
Evil
Gusts of wind knock at the door.
Her forehead adorned,
The harlot opens the door and peeps out;
The elephantine shadow of the night
Crosses her threshold.
Shedding feathers,
A bird flies out
Through the north-facing window, ajar.
A wide field of borax, milk-white;
Within its dismal acreage confined
Searching for its cadaver,
A soul laments.
The sky inclines,
And with a thunder intimates the secret
Which lies beyond the arc of space and time.
Seraphic birds
Circling the perimeter of the night;
Despondent angels,
Hiding their faces behind the beams of light.
Shattered on the floor
A mirror lies,
That bears the fractured image
Of a God—stunned.
**
Goddess
When the bass note resonates
And the lotus star falls from the sky,
Lava shoots out from the mountain top
In all four directions.
Your taut breast discharges
Sprays of milk.
Spasmodic, you pluck the stars
From the Milky Way.
Your breaths are blasts of summer wind,
Boiling over, the foam spits out on the sand
Shrimps knotted in coitus.
A whirlwind in gyration touching the sky
A towering phantom
Stoops to kiss your navel.
With its forked tongue, quivering,
The serpent licks your lips,
Holding it tight you squeeze it in your fist;
And, bite down on it softly with your teeth.
The glowing eyes
Of the huge-headed lion, your ride,
Watch you, with lust,
From behind the dripping foliage.
The glittering spire of your temple
Touches the azure sky.
A golden bowl containing ambrosia,
And the enchanted ankle-bells
Of your primeval dance,
Lie on the floor;
A row of petrified skeletons stands
Staring in vacuity.
The red tempest has rumbled in her throat,
Your warring song,
An unsheathed sword is in her hand
Like a banner.
Celestial nymphs
Descend to the mighty circle of your tent
And felicitating you
Adorn your forehead with a star.
*******
Notes "Cover image courtesy: https://emsworth.wordpress.com/2009/01/10/king-lear-and- cordelia-on-canvas/ -Selections from the poet’s unpublished collection “Whispers from the Shadow Side.”
Asif Raza writes poetry in Urdu and translates many of them into English. His poems have been published in several literary journals in India and Pakistan. Several of his original poems as well as his English translations of them were published in the now defunct bilingual journal, Annual of Urdu Studies, University of Wisconsin. He has authored three collections of poems: Bujhe Rangon ki Raunaq (Splendor of Faded colors), Tanhai ke Tehwar(Festivals of Solitude) and AaeeneKeZindani (Captives of the Mirror) published in two editions, the first one in Delhi, India (under the supervision of Shamsur Rahman Faruqi, who also wrote its foreword) and the other in Karachi, Pakistan. Asif Raza came to the U.S. in 1975 on a fellowship. After a doctorate in Sociology, he taught at the University of Missouri, Columbia, Northern Illinois University, DeKalb and a senior college in Texas. He lives in Tyler, Texas
More by Asif Raza in The Beacon Zohra Devi Poems: Asif Raza An Epistolary Review of S. R. Faruqi’s Novel Tremors of the Soul: On Translation and Poetic Vision Reading “At a Window, Waiting for the Starlings” CONVERSATION WITHOUT MAPS ARCH OF MEMORIES and other poems
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