".تو کافی خاموش رہنے لگ گیا ہے" 

Kashmakash

آج دیکھ لینے دے دنیا کو ہمارا تماشا 

کے زندگی کا حاصل کچھ نظر نہیں آتا

کمبخت لے ڈوبے جذبات ہمیں ہمارے 

کے دانشمند کسی کے گھربے وجہ نہیں آتا 

صبر و شکر کی تعلیم دیا کرتے تھے زمانے کو 

اب تو تحمل و عاجزی کو پہچانا مشکل ہے 

سکرات و اقبال کو پڑھ سمجھ لیا ہم نے 

رومی و باللہ کا عشق سکھانا مشکل ہے 

خواب دیکھے بھی تو ایسے کے فلک کو سلام کریں 

منزل تو چھوڑیے، اک قدم اٹھانا مشکل ہے 

مینے دیکھے ہیں بہار، خزاں، گرم و سرد 

بناتا گیا تو کبھی بگاڑتا گیا ہر فرد مجھکو 

گمشدہ نہ ہو جائے میری آس، میری پیاس 

کوئی قطراے فردوس پلا دے مجھکو 

اتنا نہ یاد آیا کرو کے رات بھر سو نہ سکیں  

صبح کو سرخ آنکھوں کا سبب پوچھتے ہیں لوگ 

A Believer, A Drinker & A Lover

The following is a conversation between a believer, a drinker and a lover. All three are extremely devoted in their cause, beyond normal necessities. The believer is so lost in God, that he finds God in everything. The drinker is in a state of constant intoxication, he cannot even survive a moment without it. The lover has drowned  himself in the ocean of love, never to be rescued again.

Lover: Logic? Rationality? Wisdom? Knowledge? Philosophy? I am oblivious to these things. Mr. Believer, you are in conversation with the wrong person. Mr. Drinker, kindly close the books whose chapters I shall never read. If the topic is my beloved, only then I shall converse. 

The Drinker pours some wine in two crystal glasses other than his. The Believer is awe- struck, the lover is uninterested. 

مینو یار دی نماز پڑھ لین دے 

شرابی گل فیردس لاییں، فیر دس لاییں 

In his thoughts, the believer sees himself in the Ka`aba. Sitting in front, his eyes wide open, his heart...light as an atom. The worries, the questions, the judgments, the anxieties... no where to be found. He leans on the floor, as though one might have fainted during a Sajda. The drinker offers the wine, the Believer denies. 

As he takes the first sip, the heat of the alcohol rushes down his throat. He feels it in his soul not in his body. 

Drinker to Lover: Respect. Over-rated. What respect do these people give us? Infamous. The moralists degrade us as filth of their society. Sinners, they call us. Hypocrites, all of them. 

The lover raises his fist: My beloved is the reason, the jar of love is pouring in me. The world is nothing more than mirage for me, its because of love I have any respect in it. 

 شرابی گل فیردس لاییں، فیر دس لاییں 

The Believer looks above, astonished by the moon. How it obeys its Master day in night out. The drinker looks on as the light of the moon reflects against his glass of wine. The lover mentions: What are you two astonished on? The shariah knows what it demands, the liquor knows to encircle soberness, and love? Love just knows the beloved. 

 شرابی گل فیردس لاییں، فیر دس لاییں 

Believer: Destiny...everything all written up there. 

Drinker: I make my own destiny. 

Lover: The one who fights with destiny, is the one who finds company with the beloved. 

Believer: I have to fight the injustice in this world. I have taken oath of allegiance to the deen.

Drinker: Only fire can fight fire. Fight until it all fades away. Intoxication, we are all under its spell. 

Lover: The court of love has ordered me to be hanged till death. How do you expect me to fight?

A person crosses the three and looks at them with judgmental eyes. The three remain indifferent, the man mentions, "Maulana, have you lost it? This is what religion tells you? Instead of scolding them you are joining them?"

The Believer smiles and shakes his head. "Peace be with you, Only God can judge us. Come as you are. Whoever, atheist, believer, lover, drunkard... here we don't judge, here we only love". 

Lover: "Love itself is intelligence. What will the world teach it? Shariah itself is love. Truth, nothing less mentioned". 

Another round is demanded by the drinker. The attendant opens another bottle. The smell of fresh alcohol entices the drinker. As the attendant pours in the 'fountain'... he inquires, "Don't you ever get enough? It has to end somewhere". 

The lover replies: "Once your sacred heart is given to the beloved, the heart doesn't eliminate love. Once you have bowed on the doorstep of the beloved, you do not lift your head up". 

Lover: I have only one heart.

Drinker: I have only one life.

Believer:  I have only one faith.

When there is only one God, one Prophet, one Quran...

Lover: Then you do not make another beloved. 

The night only gets younger as a breeze joins the gathering...

The lover looks the other side. As if suddenly, something came to his mind. The drinker, "Rejoice, my friend. Your love story should be known to the world". To this the lover replies, "Runaway... runaway from the battlefield of love. But never shall I disclose the secret of my  beloved". To this the drinker lifts his glass.

The Believer takes out his Tasbeeh and is lost again in Zikr. The Most Just. The Most Patient. The Most Kind. The Most Powerful. A vicious cycle. The other two listen while the Remembrance goes on. 

The Lover is evidently disturbed due to some reason. The Believer has the company of his beloved, God. The drinker has the company of his beloved, alcohol. The Lover, on the contrary is alone. 

Lover: "Let me go...let me go to her. Let me go to my beautiful beloved. Sell out my heart, sell out my soul if you want. I am obsessed, or am I possessed, you keep the roles and responsibilities, Believer... let me go to her. Consequences? What consequences? Lovers are unaware of such things. They win the bets of love, the ones who have known the status of failure. Quietly, they shall seal their lips, they shall live with the support of their beloved, they shall drink the cups of poison, the ones who have known the status of love." 

Drinker: Deep. Deep as intoxication in a bottle". 

Believer: Time for my prayers.

As the Believer departs... the lover finishes the conversation...

سانو عشق دی نماز والوں موڑ نہ 

بُت پوجنے دی ریت ساڈی ٹور نہ 

آویں ہور کسی راہ سنو پاویں نہ 

آپ پھسیاں تے سانو وی پھسا ویں نہ 

The drops of alcohol strike the floor as the glass releases from the hands of The Drinker. 

The image of the beloved finally comes in front of The Lover. Reality or fiction, it doesn't matter. 

بے کے سامنے نظارہ سانو لین دے 

شرابی گل فائر دس لاییں

ہم سے روشن ہے چاند اور تارے 

ہم کو دامن سمجھئیے گیرت کا 

اٹھ گئے ہم اگر زمانے سے 

نام مٹ جاےگامحبّت  کا