Kahkashan Khan Blog This page is dedicated to all the art, poetry, literature, music, nature, solitude and book lovers. Do what makes your soul happy. Love and Peace. - D
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺧﻮﺍﺑﻮﮞ ﮐﯽ ﺯﻣﯿﻨﻮﮞ ﭘﺮ
ﮐﺴﯽ ﺩﻧﯿﺎ ﮐﯽ ﺷﮩﺰﺍﺩﯼ
ﮐﺌﯽ ﻗﺮﻧﻮﮞ ﮐﺌﯽ ﺻﺪﯾﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ
ﺗﯿﺮﯼ ﯾﺎﺩ ﮐﯽ ﭼﮭﺎﺅﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﺑﯿﭩﮭﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺍﺳﮯ ﺍﺫﻥ ﺣﻀﻮﺭﯼ ﺩﻭ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺱ ﮐﯽ ﻣﻨﺠﻤﺪ ﺑﺮﻓﺎﺏ ﺁﻧﮑﮭﻮﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ
ﺧﻮﺷﯽ ﮐﯽ ﺗﺘﻠﯿﺎﮞ ﺍﺗﺮﯾﮟ
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ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺏ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺷﮩﺮ ﮐﯽ ﮔﻠﯿﺎﮞ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﮮ ﭘﺎﺅﮞ ﮐﯽ ﺣﺪﺕ ﭘﮧ ﻣﺮﺗﯽ
ﺑﺲ ﺗﻤﮭﯿﮟ ﺁﻭﺍﺯ ﺩﯾﺘﯽ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺩﯾﺌﮯ ﮨﺮ ﺁﻧﮯ ﻭﺍﻟﮯ ﺳﮯ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﺍ ﭘﻮﭼﮭﺘﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺍﻭﺭ ﺩﺭﻭﺍﺯﮮ... ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﯼ ﺁﮨﭩﻮﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﮔﻢ
ﻣﮕﺮ ﺗﻢ ؟
ﺩﻭﺭﯾﻮﮞ ﮐﮯ ﺷﮩﺮ ﺳﮯ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺩﻭﺭ ﺑﯿﭩﮭﮯ ﮨﻮ
ﺟﮩﺎﮞ ﺁﻭﺍﺯ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺟﺎﻧﮯ ﺳﮯ ﮈﺭﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
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ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺏ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺭﺍﺳﺘﮯ ﺍﻣﯿﺪ ﮐﯽ ﺧﻮﺷﺒﻮ ﺳﮯ ﻣﮩﮑﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﮐﮧ ﺗﻨﮩﺎﺋﯽ
ﮨﻤﺎﺭﯼ ﺭﻭﺡ ﮐﮯ ﺳﺎﺣﻞ ﭘﮧ ﺟﺐ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺑﯿﻦ ﮐﺮﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﺍ ﻧﺎﻡ ﻟﯿﺘﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﮨﻮﺍ ﺟﺐ ﮔﻨﮕﻨﺎﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺗﻮ ﺍﺱ ﮐﮯ ﺳﺮﻣﺌﯽ ﮨﻮﻧﭩﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ
ﺗﯿﺮﮮ ﺩﺭﺩ ﻣﯿﮟ ﮈﻭﺑﮯ ﮨﻮﺋﮯ ﻟﻤﺤﻮﮞ ﮐﯽ
ﮐﭽﯽ ﺑﻮﺭ ﺍﮌﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
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ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺏ ﮨﻢ ﺩﯾﻮﺗﺎﺅﮞ ﮐﯽ ﻃﺮﺡ ﺧﺎﻣﻮﺵ ﺭﮦ ﺭﮦ ﮐﺮ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﮮ ﮨﺠﺮ ﮐﮯ ﺁﺯﺍﺭ ﺳﮩﮧ ﺳﮩﮧ ﮐﺮ
ﺑﮩﺖ ﮨﯽ ﺗﮭﮏ ﭼﮑﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﮨﻤﯿﮟ ﺍﺏ ﻧﯿﻨﺪ ﮐﮯ ﻟﻤﺒﮯ ﺳﻔﺮ ﭘﺮ ﻟﻮﭦ ﺟﺎﻧﺎ ﮨﮯ
ﺟﮩﺎﮞ ﮨﻢ ﻧﮯ
ﺯﻣﺎﻧﮯ ﮐﯽ ﻧﮕﺎﮨﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ ﭘﺮﮮ
ﺍﮎ ﺍﻭﺭ ﮨﯽ ﻣﻨﻈﺮ ﺑﺴﺎﻧﺎ ﮨﮯ
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ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﯾﮧ ﻟﻤﺤﮯ
ﮨﻤﺎﺭﺍ ﻣﺎﺱ ﮐﮭﺎﻧﮯ ﭘﺮ ﺗﻠﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ ﺑﺎﺭﻭﺩ ﺑﻦ ﮐﺮ ﺟﺴﻢ ﻭ ﺟﺎﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﺩﻭﮌﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺁﻧﮑﮫ ﭘﺘﮭﺮﺍﺋﯽ ﮨﻮﺋﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﮨﺎﺗﮫ ﺷﻞ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺍﻭﺭ ﮨﻢ ﭘﮧ ﻣﻮﺕ ﺳﯽ ﭼﮭﺎﺋﯽ ﮨﻮﺋﯽ ﮨﮯ
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ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺩﻝ ﮐﯽ ﺩﮬﮍﮐﻨﯿﮟ ﺍﺏ ﺑﮭﯽ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﯼ ﻧﺎﻡ ﮐﯽ ﺗﺴﺒﯿﺢ
!ﺻﺒﺢ ﻭ ﺷﺎﻡ ﭘﮍﮬﺘﯽ ﮨﯿﮟ
محبت تو عبادت تھی
محبت تو عبادت تھی
عبادت کیوں بدل ڈالی؟
کہ جب بھی آنکھ کھولی تو
تجھے سوچا تجھے مانگا
نہ جیتے ہم نہ مرتے تھے
تری خاطر وفاؤں کو
قضا کرنے سے ڈرتے تھے
عبادت کب بدلتی ہے
محبت کے پجاری کا
کبھی محور بھی بدلا ہے
تجھے ہی ڈھونڈتے رہنا
تجھے رکھنا دعاؤں میں
تجھے احساس کر ڈالا
تجھی کو خاص کر ڈالا
محبت کب بدلتی ہے
کسی کے چھوڑ جانے سے
نہ واپس لوٹ آنے پر
کسی کی ہم نوائی سے
کسی کی بے وفائی سے
محبت تو عبادت ہے
عبادت کب بدلتی ہے
تو تھا سجدوں میں بھی شامل
ترے بن میں نہ تھی کامل
محبت کی نمازوں میں
خدا بھی ایک ہوتا ہے
بھلا کیا رب بدلتا ہے؟
تجھے محصور رکھا تھا
یہ محور کیوں بدل ڈالا؟
چلو اب تم ہی بتلاؤ
مری تو تم سے دنیا تھی
یہ دنیا کیوں مٹا ڈالی؟
محبت تو عبادت تھی
عبادت کیوں بدل ڈالی؟
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
A woman enjoying the pleasure
A woman enjoying the pleasure of her own company and rewarding herself with a slice of cake or sneaking off to the cinema on her own, untroubled by the judgement of others and clear about her priorities. It’s a long way from the boisterous night out on the lash with the girls, more a moment of self-indulgent pleasure.
I really do like it when people
I really do like it when people tell me about themselves. It doesn’t matter what. It can be about their day, what they did that they found amazing, what their hobbies are. I like knowing about people. In a way, it makes me feel like they trust me. You are not bothering me with your rambling. I actually prefer to listen.
When he dies
When he dies
Write a book about him.
Write about a guy who likes to look at the sky, the clouds, the moon, the sunset and the stars.
Write about a guy who walks away from the gossiping and sit with the borken.
Write about a guy who loves to go to mountains, re-read his old letters, conversations, loves to share music passionately like lovers sharing a kiss.
Write about a guy who talks non-stop one moment and goes silent the other.
Write about a guy who keep himself away from insensitive and selfish people.
Write about a guy who makes people happy either by words, books or things.
Sensitivity does not come with infinite knowledge
Sensitivity does not come with infinite knowledge and information. You may know all the books in the world, you may have read them, devoured them, you may be familiar with every author, you may know all the things that have been said, but that does not bring intelligence. What brings intelligence is this sensitivity, a total sensitivity of your mind, conscious as well as unconscious, and of your heart with its extraordinary capacities of affection, sympathy, generosity.
And with that comes this intense feeling, feeling for the leaf that falls from a tree with all its dying colours, the cat that walks across the wall, to the squalor, the filth of human beings in poverty, in despair.
This is how I see it.
This is how I see it. As an artist it is my responsibility to not have a boring life. To feel deeply. To listen to the stories of strangers. To try new things and go new places. To say yes. To question everything. To find beauty in the commonplace. And to fall in love. Over and over. Because through the highs of love and the lows of heartbreak I truly know what it is to feel.
I am sentimental.
I am sentimental. I talk to strangers. Sometimes I cry a little on public transport. When someone tell me that they love me, I feel as though my heart will burst. I take the pictures of mountains, clouds and leaves. I notice the changing of season and I get excited. I love coffee. Little things makes me happy and I hope I stay this way.
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