دس بارہ دن تے لنگنڑیں نیں/Das bara din tay langhrain nain

https://youtu.be/OtbzExFlovc

https://youtu.be/OtbzExFlovc

دس بارہ دن تے لنگنڑیں نیں

منہ  چُک کے ٹُر پیندے ساں

جس پاسے دل کردا سی

شام جے پیندی ستویں تھاں تے

اٹھویں تے دن چڑدا سی

اینج بریکاں لگیاں نے کے

ہونڑ سمجھ وچ آیا اے

اونج تے پلے پیندا نئیں سی

ویرس نے سمجھایا اے

اِکو چھت دے تھلے ریندیاں

دو دو گز ورتنڑیں نیں

جھپی پا کے ملنے تے

دس بارہ دن تے لنگنڑیں نیں

چھیتی چھیتی نسی پجھی

گُنجیاں گنڈاں کھُلدیاں نئیں

ڈاڈا جد تک توا نہ پخے

کچیاں پھلکیاں پھلدیاں نئیں

جس نال سوچ  وکھیڑا  پے جائے

اوس نوں گل سمجھاون وچ

جس نوں وریاں ہو جان رُسیاں

اوس نوں فیر مناون وچ

اک دو دن وچ مڈھ نئیں بجنڑیں

ناں ای سوتر سُکنڑیں نئیں

وٹ نوں پدریاں ہونڑ وچ

دس بارہ دن تے لنگنڑیں نیں

ایڈے کاہلے پے گئے آں کہ

یاد ناں ریا کہ رُکناں اے

ٹھوکا ٹھاکی کردے پُہل گئے

اک دن اساں وی  ٹھُکناں اے

قدرت دی اے منشا اے کے

کھلم کھلا دھوکا اے

جو جی آئے او ای کہہ لو 

جو وی کہینڑاں سوکھا اے

اپنے آپ تے آئی تک کے

ات تے تھم کھڑکنڑیں نیں

ڈگدے نوں اُٹھ بیٹھنڑ وچ

دس بارہ دن تے لنگنڑیں نیں

تیرے پِچھے ٹردے ٹردے

ساری عمر گنوا بیٹھے 

جو کچھ سانبھ کے رکھیا سی او

ساری پونجی لا بیٹھے 

سدھا راہ جو سمجھی پہے او

گھمنڑ گھیر پلیکھا سی

جس دے ہتھ ترکڑی دتی

دوجے ہتھ وچ ٹوکا سی

پُٹھا پھر گیا ہل دا پھالا

بیجے بی وی رلنڑیں نیں

گیڑ نوں سدھیاں کرنڑیں وچ

دس بارہ دن تے لنگنڑیں نیں

ناصر گوندل

 نیو یارک ،منگل23/مارچ2021

 

ghazal/ہونے ‏لگا ‏تھا ‏کچھ

غزل برائے تنقید

ہونے لگا تھا کچھ جو چھپانا پڑا مجھے

ویسے نہیں تو وجد میں آنا پڑا مجھے

اس دل کے کاروبار میں کچھ بھی نہیں بچا

اک نام رہ گیا تھا لگانا پڑا مجھے

یوں مجھ سے ہمکلام مرا آئینہ رہا

نہ روٹھنا پڑا نہ منانا پڑا مجھے

مشکل سے سر اٹھایا تھا کاندھوں پہ اور اب

اس آسماں کو سر پہ اٹھانا پڑا مجھے

میں ہی کھڑا ہوا تھا ترے میرے درمیاں

بندِ انا کو توڑ کے آنا پڑا مجھے

اب کے جو ہم ملے تو ضرورت نہیں رہی

نہ پوچھنا پڑا نہ منانا پڑا مجھے

اتنی بڑھی ہیں ان کی مہربانیاں کہ اب

دشمن کو دوستوں سے بچانا پڑا مجھے

ناصر گوندل

حلقہِ اربابِ ذوق، نیو یارک

اتوار، ۱۴ فروری ۲۰۲۱؁ء

Nadir Kamal/Back To The Mountain

 

Photo courtesy Asim Amin

On Wednesday February 10^th, 2021, we lost a very dear friend. At 6:30 in the morning I got a text that he had died earlier. He had suffered a massive heart attack the few days back. By 5:30 pm I was on my way back home after his burial. It all happened so quickly; something unheard in corona times. Imam Qureshi alluded to that in his prayers by side, that it's a privilege to be buried without delay. There was not a moment's hold up from the time he was released from hospital to his interment.

Entering New Jersey from New York out of George Washington Bridge, you see a beautiful mosque on the north side of Interstate 95. It is Dar ul Islah, commonly known as Teaneck Mosque. I always wished to be there but never had an opportunity. I would have never thought that would be the place where I meet Nadir Kamal for the last time and accompany him to his final resting place in Laurel Grove Cemetery.

I knew him since 10^th of May 1973, when a hundred of us, the 20^th entry Abdalians, started our journey at age 12. We lived in boarding for five years. Nadir and I were in the same house, Jinnah Wing. By the time we left, it was a fraternity. For each sixteen or so of us in each of the six Wings, it was next thing to be a brother.

We all are similar and different in many ways, but he was more different. Quiet, aloof, but soft spoken and friendly. In those five years, almost everyone would find one person or two to dislike, hate or to be angry with. Not Nadir Kamal. I don’t think anybody had any issue with him.

He was good in studies and got recognition for that. He chose pre-engineering, went to UET Mughalpura and then to USA.

Although not born in mountains, he spent a large part of his life on them. I had accompanied him and others in two trips to Northern Areas in our final year of Hasanabdal and the year after, but that was it for me. He, sometimes alone and other times with fellow travelers like Shahid Ghafoor, have been to almost every mountain range in northern Pakistan, including base camp of K2. One part of his family hailed from the foothills of mountains south of Nepal. Perhaps he carried some inborn inclination.

His search to see new places only grew with time. When I reconnected with him after a while, I found out he was almost done checking the last few states to have all fifty under his feet. He was also working on the 100th mark on countries  of the world and eventually surpassed that. He is the only one I know who has been to all the seven continents including Antarctica.

Barring large cities, he almost never went to the same place twice. If he went, he took a different route. He was not keen to write up about his travels despite being urged about it, we would have learnt much more about him and his world. At a later date, at least, he started putting pictures online. Some of them can be seen on his Facebook page.

It seemed like he was searching for something; a wandering soul. What else took him time and again out of the comfort of home and familiar places to the unknown and unpredictable!

Waqar Sadiq, said he was a Malang. Yes he was in a true sense. He was in I.T. and worked at one time in a job which gave him the opportunity to travel to different places. In good days he had a deal with the company to have a few months off at a stretch, for his international travels. Later when that became difficult, he moved on. He had no issue when he left a job. He would go away for a few months to conquer new lands. 

Some twenty years back he suffered a big loss. Both of his parents died naturally the same night. He had to adjust his professional life to take care of family affairs, being the only brother among four sisters.  He put his family responsibilities ahead of his personal life.

In pre social media era, meeting him would mean meeting with at least another twenty or so of your old classmates; if not eighty. He was one keeping contact with almost everybody. After all he was the one who travelled most.

He never married, perhaps never had a long-term serious relationship. That kept people guessing but did not bother him. He had made a place in many hearts and it shows up now when the bereaved talk about him and find him in each other’s heart. That is what we all felt when the same night his classmates met on Zoom, benefits of modern times, to mourn together, from California to Australia. Everybody had a personal story to tell about him.Friends in Pakistan were able to be together for Ghaibana Nimaz e Janaza in Lahore. Our old teacher and housemaster Mahfooz ul Rahman Sahib was kind enough to attend at age 81, from Narowal.

He lived an independent life, not owing anything to anyone and by the time he left, he had fulfilled all his obligations to near and dear around him. Many would wish such a contented exit.

True to his name, Javed Iqbal aptly said that he was Nadir and he was Kamal.

He loved mountains and spend the most of his life tracking and searching them. In his final days, he was perturbed by the tragedy in waiting on K2 where mountaineers could not be accounted for.  His last Facebook post is about the concern he was sharing with his other mountaineer friends.

Three days later I was back in the cemetery with Zubair Niazi, who travelled four hours each way to visit him. 

Nature chose a mountain for him for his last resting place. His last worldly travel is to a serene slow uphill road, where he finally rested on the top of the cemetery hill, next to Passaic River and Christopher Columbus Highway, the Interstate 80. You can hear low humming sound of travelers. That would keep him happy.

Nadir belonged to the mountains; he is back there.      

                                                       

 

I had to mention some names to give the proper credit. Otherwise the post is a reflection of the collective sentiments of all of his 20th entry classmates.

My thanks to Naheed Usmani for letting me know at the right time. It would have been otherwise impossible for me to have a proper closure.

اک ‏ویری ‏اندر ‏بیٹھا ‏اے/ik ‎vairy

My first Punjabi verse

 https://youtu.be/yM3MjLlmmPI

Asaf Ali Dar, Rest is Peace.

 چلے  گئے ہیں کہیں جن کے دم سے رونق تھی

شکستہ  حال  سا  خالی  مکان  باقی  ہے

آصف علی ڈار

 My last communication with him was in early October when he introduced me to the Facebook page of Ohio Literary Group. His last post was on December 7^th.  Then we heard that he is sick in hospital. And then came the news that Asaf Dar is no more. In our profession we know it always a commitment to a higher calling. It is ever more so these days. And so, he was called.

If I have only the acquaintance of Asaf Dar as my reward of countless hours and days over the years given to APPNA, it was worth it.

Asaf Dar was someone you would always see in APPNA meetings. Impeccably dressed, clean shaved, quiet, personable and looking much younger than his age, he was a regular fixture at the nightly sittings where there was music, jokes, banter, and gupshup. His participation was mostly as an appreciative member of the audience. He was revered by his colleagues. With time I found out. He was a mentor to many.

And in due course of time he became my mentor. He heard me reading poetry and initiated the conversation. He helped me learn the nuances of Urdu verse, in a very disarming way. His guidance was earnest and genuine. In the process we became closer friends. Due to differences of space and age I never knew him as much as I wished I had.

One of my more memorable moments with him was during one of APPNA meetings in San Francisco. We toured the Rock together as a part of trip. He had been under a lot of personal stress in time leading up to that. It took a lot of toll on him and he was off the main scene in APPNA for a while.

If APPNA has reached the level of a citadel and institution for Pakistani physicians in America, Asaf Dar is one of the lesser known pillars of it. He worked, more than anyone else I know, to provide a space for writers and literature lovers in APPNA.  While people get together in meetings to do all the good work the organization was known to do, there was an unmet need for the conducive and nurturing environment for arts and letters;  when there is a time to relax and loosen up a bit. Asaf Dar help provide that space.

Whether it was the magazine or the mushaira poetry sessions, APPNA owes him for setting a tradition, hard to emulate by any other organization in North America. He lobbied and eventually help establish the Annual Literary Award for an APPNA member. Starting in 2011 under his leadership, APPNA recognized literary figures amongst itself. The awardees include Amanullah Khan, Amjad Hussain, Abdul Rahman Abd and Latafat Hamzavi. He was awarded the same in 2017. The last recipient of the Award was Mansoor Hussain, awarded in 2019.

He strongly believed in encouraging the budding writers and acknowledging those who should be recognized. APPNA should recognize talent of its own, he stressed.

Reading over his poetry again, I celebrate his life and work. The title of ones works tell a lot about the writer. His first is Adhuri Kahanian, Unfinished Stories; and the second is Kaghzi Qandeelain Paper Candles.

 His verse is of a young man growing up in Lahore, with deep passion for his surroundings and his ancestral land of Kashmir, moving to Iran and then to USA. He remains young and passionate all along. His topics are diverse and his take is subtle.

A few of his verses:

The distance which always remains between two friends.

میرے  اس کے درمیاں کچھ فاصلہ ہر دم رہا

دوستی کی پائیداری کا یہی اک راز تھا

He talks about how he was confronted by a drunken physician in Iran who thought his job was stolen by Asaf and the likes, and the mysteriously found strength he mustered to stand up to him. Iran Main Nadaan ایران میں نادان

Puppy love between two kids in monsoon rain. Barish main beeghtay huway

بارش  میں بیگھتے ہوئے

اپنے گھروں سے دور کچھ

معصوم سے اک خواب میں

چھوٹے سے چھپر کے تلے

ساون کی اس بارش میں ہم

کچھ دیر تک بھیگا کئے

کچھ میں نے اس سے کہہ دیا

کچھ اس نے بھی مجھ سے کہا

پھر اپنی اپنی راہ کو

گھبرا کے دونوں ہو لیے

He must have spent some time in Multan in his childhood

مجھے ملتان جانا ہے

 

فرازِ دمدمہ

قاسم باغ کی پھلواریاں

صوفیانِ کرام کے مزار

حسین آگاہی بازار

حسن پروانہ کی سڑکیں

ابدالی روڈ پر واقع سکول

مرے بچپن کے دوست

مرے خوابوں میں آتے ہیں

مجھے واپس بلاتے ہیں

مجھے ملتان جانا ہے

Pain of living in a faraway land when someone closer to you is gone, and could not get the last gaze of the dying father:

والد مرحوم کی یاد میں

 

الوداعی اک نظر سے بھی رہا محروم میں

جاں فزا یادوں میں اس کی مسکراہٹ  رہ گئی

کر رہا تھا سائیں  سائیں گھر شبِ تاریک میں

بے کراں خاموشیوں میں میری آہٹ رہ گئی

 

Longing for Pakistan is all over his poetry.

Pakistan bulata hay

رات کی گہری خاموشی میں پاکستان بلاتا ہے

Main sheher kharabi main a to gaya

میں  شہر  ِ خرابی   میں  آ   تو  گیا

کئی رنگ چھوٹے سے گائوں میں تھے

 

And of course, Lahore

پر تمکنت سی خامشی لاہور پر رہے

ہم خاکِ راہ گزار میں ہوں گے یہیں کہیں

 

مدت سے دیکھتے ہیں خالی مکاں ہے ان کا

اس شہر سے  نہ  جانے کس شہر کو گئے ہیں

And I will end with the verse he stated his first book, after the Hamd and Salaam e Hussain

مری  کاوش ثمر آور  نہ  ہو شاید مرے جیتے

کہانی زندگی کچھ ادھوری رہ ہی جاتی ہے

 

 

 

mujhey milney naheen aana/مجھے ملنے نہیں آنا

مجھے  ملنے  نہیں  آنا

پرانا خط تمیارا

ادھ کھلا

پہنچا  ہے اب مجھ تک

کیٗ برسوں پرانی مہر ہے اس پر

ـْْ’’تمہارے شہر میں کچھ دن مجھے رکنا پڑے گا

ٖضروری کام ہیں ایسے

یہاں آئے بنا جو ہو نہیں سکتے

خبر کر دے تمہیں کوئی

تو دو سے چار نہ کرنا

نظر انداز کر دینا

مجھے ملنے نہیں آنا

’’بہت چرچا رہا  ہےکہ تعلق تھا کوئ ہم میں

فسانے بن چکے ہیں

اور کتنے راویوں نے

سند ہونے کے دعوے کر دیے ہیں

کوئی تردید کوئ تبصرہ اب ہو نہیں سکتا

یہاں انکار اور تردید کے اکثر بیانوں کو

صحیح سمجھا نہیں جاتا

کوئ پوچھے اگر تم سے

کوئ انکار نہ کرنا

کوئ اقرار نہ کرنا

نظر انداز کر دینا 

مجھے ملنے نہیں آنا

ـ’’بہت کچھ ہو چکا ہے 

اور جو لمحے  لٹائے جا چکے ہیں

اب ان کی بازیابی کا 

ہر اک موقع گنوایا جا چکا ہے

اسی گم گشتگی میں

خیالِ رفتگاں کوئ

تمہارے سامنے آئے

اسے رکنے کو نہ کہنا

کوئ اصرار نہ کرنا

نظر انداز کردینا 

مجھے ملنے نہیں آنا‘‘

مرے ہاتھوں میں یہ کاغذ

مجھے کچھ کہہ رہا ہے

مگر جو کہہ رہا ہے 

وہ نہ کرنے کا زمانہ جا چکا ہے

یہاں  آ کے وہ واپس جا چکا ہے

 

یہی وہ سوچتا ہو گا

میں اس کی بات نہ سمجھا

نہ اس کی ان کہی جانا

کوئی تکرار کی میں نے

نہ استفسار کی میں نے

نطر انداز کر ڈالا

اسے ملنے نہیں آیا

ناصر گوندل

حلقہِ اربابِ ذوق، نیو یارک

آن لاین اجلاس  اتوار3/جنوری2021؁ء

sachi baat/سچی ‏بات

سچی بات

سچ کہنا اور سچ پہ رہنا

کتنے عقد کشا کر تا ہے

کس کو کس دن کیا بولا تھا

اس کو اس دن کیا کہنا ہے

یاد نہیں کچھ کرنا پڑتا

لکھ کے کچھ نہیں رکھنا پڑتا

جھوٹ نہیں کچھ کہنا پڑتا

جھوٹ نہیں کچھ کرنا پڑتا

یہ تو بات صحیح ہے لیکن

سچ پوچھو تو سچ تو یہی ہے

سچ میں رہنا ناممکن ہے

سچی بات تو کڑوی ہو گی

سچی بات نہ بھائے گی

دور جو ہیں وہ دور رہیں گے

بالکل پاس نہ آیٗں گے

غیروں کی تم بات ہی چھوڑو

اپنے بھی گھبرایئں گے

یہ سوچا تھا سچ بولیں گے

ہمت ساتھ نہیں دیتی

زندہ رہنا پڑتا ہے تو

جھوٹ میں رہنا پڑتا ہے

دنیا داری ایسے ویسے

اپنے کام کراتی ہے

عادت سی ہو جاتی ہے

نہ چاہو تو پھر بھی منہ سے

سچا جھوٹ نکلتا ہے

اب تو ایسا ہوتا ہے کہ

سچ بولو تو

خود پہ حیرت ہوتی ہے

ناصر گوندل

حلقہِ اربابِ ذوق، نیو یارک

آن لایئن اجلاس

اتوار6/دسمبر2020