The Melody And Devotion Poem by Sumita Jetley

In Delhi's heart where roses bloom,
A dargah stands, dispelling gloom.
With incense, prayers, and love's perfume,
A sacred space in crowded room.

Young Aariz with his sitar came,
Inspired by Khusraw's poetic flame.
His fingers danced, invoked a name—
The saint whose love was not a game.

'This world's illusion, ' Khusraw wrote,
'Love's essence is the antidote.
Seek the Beloved, let your heart float,
In that pursuit, you'll find your boat.'

Aariz strummed, the crowd grew still,
The air turned thick with divine will.
Each note a prayer, each pause a fill,
A melody that time could kill.

An elder stood, his eyes like stars,
His face a map of life's memoirs.
'Your music touched the heavens, far,
The saint rejoices, where you are.'

Aariz felt warmth, a sacred sign,
That Khusraw's words had crossed a line.
In Nizamuddin's love's design,
Two souls in quest of the divine.