Aniruddha Pathak Poems

Never enquire of a saint's caste,
Query for sure his knowledge vast,
Put price upon a goodly sword,
Leave alone sheath and scabbard.
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One moonless midnight,
Perched on a tree
Were two ghosts, one said looking at me:
Look here who goes there,
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Dr Rahat Indori (1950-2020) , a great Urdu poet.
He died recently, a Ph D in literature (1985) .
He loved his motherland, India, immensely.
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If world with thorns grows
As always it goes,
You can still choose to be rose.
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I've cried at life's lilting times
And laughed at its worst of crimes;
Do your worst, I'll live O Life,
I'm game for your cruellest climes,
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O heaven-bound god,
Your sceptre, nor rod,
I fear men same sod.
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The world on uncertainties stands,
Not whatsoever's built on stone,
Built are dreams on the base of sands
Hope the soul supporting backbone.
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He goes around the world
On a long travel to learn
And wonders at heights of mountain crests,
At huge waves of the seas,
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When done, dusted, gone,
Let no one my absence feel.
When senses get ill
And each body bone
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Moon's silver at crest
Says, playing with clouds in jest,
Rest, O Time why haste?
Never me, says Time, honest,
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