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I was born with celebrations
I still remember the fireworks
When out of the sweetness of the womb
I breathed my first air
And when I was taken into the lap of my mother
The sweetness of the milk and the tenderness
With love and compassion when I was raised
For I symbolized the continuity of the existence
And a hope for the future
My father
I heard had said
“I am youth again”
So into this world of fantasies and beauties
Chasing butterflies and the long afternoons of play
The years of romance and the sight of the moon
My prayers for the beloved to be with me
The heroism
I wanted to conquer the world
When I carried that bucket of water for the old man
When I gave all the pennies in my pocket to the old woman
When I learned so many books
My father
Eager to make me understand the things
But keeping me away, from the dirt in the society
The cold sweetness of those silk and cotton garment
Of the women who loved me, aunts and older young girls
As I was the sweet heart
Dead I lay,
I could not be a hero
The hero that was to rise to the occasion
Despite all the hardships
The late night burning of the candle
And the mothers sweet lap
Every one wanted to see me a hero
When I did not bring in good name
When I was told that I was a shame
To the family because I had not scored
The highest grades or grades close the highest
And when
I could not rise to be a god
Which no one was
And when in this battle of wits
I was loosing day by day
And when I was compared
With others
Ah,
How they made to that level when I knew that I was a better fighter
When I could lay my life for my family and every one that loved me
And like the knight of the olden days
I could tear apart the enemy’s lines
My enemy was my goals to conquer
Now I am dead
Not a hero’s death
I failed in my mission despite all my efforts
I have this song coming out of my heart
That
In the gods image I wanted to rise
But I could not
On my forehead was written
My destiny
The predestined composer
Who has written the music of my life,
And that eternal piano was played in the background
The choirs of all those who were my friends
A loved one whispered in my ear
That you are not dead
That you are buried with all your favorite colors
So much more that you wanted to give others
The ones who loved you and the ones you loved
No more a shame nor you nor others
The sweet piano writing down your life
You only did not rise to be a god
But taught passion for the fear it was gone
Every ones remembering the line and the verse
Not the hand that wrote it but the line
Song makers cry with out tears
Comforting home, mothers lap
Chance for immortality
Where being wanted is a thrill
The sweet piano writing down the song
I am sorry but time will tell
This bitter farewell...
(The idea and the last few lines I have taken from the hi5 profile of a girl named black rose)
Sadiqullah Khan
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