Under The Peshawar Sky Poem by Sumita Jetley

We had a Fuffad Ji, wise and old,
A feudal tale in whispers told.
Dada's sister, draped in grace,
Beside her Peshawari, time held its place.

Mehrauli nights and chai so thick,
Laced with malai—too heavy to sip.
Yet in those echoes, faint and true,
A love once lived, now lost in blue.

Azaan's Fate, Meher's Fire
He was sent where the past still breathes,
Where havelis hum and rubabs weave.
A man of stone, of lines and sand,
Yet fate had drawn a softer hand.

She, a seeker, a soul untamed,
Through her lens, old walls were framed.
She chased the wind, the songs, the light,
Where chai dabhās burned through the night.

They met as dust and ink collide,
Between Qissa Khwani's restless tide.

'Architect, right? '—a knowing gaze,
'And you, the storm that shifts my days? '

Her laughter spilled, a flame so free,
His measured world now lost at sea.

The Festival of Lights
One night, she pulled him through the haze,
Where lanterns wept in golden blaze.
The dhol beat loud, the walls pulsed deep,
A city danced, awake from sleep.

'You don't dance, ' she teased, eyes bright,
'I restore, ' he said, 'not chase the night.'
Yet still she spun, beneath the sky,
A single spark, a battle cry.

He watched—then stepped—a measured pace,
Then hands met hands, then pulse met space.
The night unspooled in saffron mist,
A twirl, a breath, a fleeting tryst.

And in that moment, hearts confessed—
Some cities keep their ghosts the best.

A Love That Stays
Her family spoke in shadowed tones,
Of lines too blurred, of paths unknown.
Yet love is carved in stones that last,
In names that time cannot outcast.

'I don't wish to change your fire,
Just to stand beside its pyre.'

She smiled, as echoes softly played,

'And here I thought you built to save? '

But some things, love—are built to burn,
To stand, to stay, to never turn.

The City Remembers
One year passed, then two, then more,
Yet Peshawar hummed the tales it bore.
Poets, chaiwalas, strangers came,
To weave them into love's refrain.

For love in Peshawar is not just a pair,
It's a song, a city, a breath in the air.
And somewhere still, in lantern light,
Azaan and Meher dance tonight.

✨ Peshawar remembers.
And now, it always will.