Lord of the rings...

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.


read first of the book series,
planning to finish others soon.
Thanks to Tayyaba.

chalo Faiz dil jalaein.....

Wahi chashma baqaaa tha, jise sab saraaab samjhe
wahi khayaal mautbar thay jo khayaal tak na phnche

chalo Faiz dil jalaein, karen phr se arz e janan,
wo sukhn jo lab tak aye, pe sawaal tak na phnche

Herat kada.... Ashfaq Ahmad sahab

Since I had to return these two books, so on emergency and previosly done laziness basis
you are getting something out of ma two very favourite books....!
Back to back, ball to ball, hit after hit :grin

Heratkada, Dramon pe based book he. aur sare hi dramay ese k aik se barh kar aik...!
What is it that is not touched in this book, lovely.......!


Farar
Aalia: Ye kesi ajeeb o ghareeb matti he-kahan se aa pari aap k jooton par?
Kaleem: Mai nhi khta tha tjhe----- Wahan Pashmina he, mere bache hen- Meri rooh aur tamanaoun k janasheen ----- Shudam aur Gulla jan---- Pashmina aur mai do nhi hen, Aik hi awaaz ki baazgasht hen- Hum donon ------ Aalia I am sorry.


Bazghala aur bacha zaagh ka bhi kuch hissa hazir he,

Shah:
Ya Rabul aalameen, Ya Zuljalal, Ae mere Rab, mere Malik
Ye majboor mehez teri azmaishgah mai hazir he aur apne saath apne bete ko isliye laya he k maslak e ibrahimi par amal kare, Mujh praganda o sarguzishta sarisht mai itni Qooat-e-Eeman to nhi k iss zaaghzaade ko mehez teri razaa-o-rughbat kliye peh kar doon- Par Qadir-o-Aadil Aarzoomeri yahi he k tu iss kawe k bache ko, k bht shor machata he, Qurban Ali ki jagah qabool frma le- Baar Ilha iss kawe k bache ko qabool kr-Aur uss bazghale ko chor de , Apne habeeb k sadqe, Uss kaali kamli wale k sadqe- Mujhe sharamsaar na kar------ mujhe sharamsaar na kar-


Aur mera most favourite,
Neeli chirya
Faheem: Jab mai chota tha sameera---- to maine aik dafaa aik chirya pakar li thi. Mjhe uss chirya ka khaaakstari rang itna bura laga k maine ----- maine usse neeli siyahi se rang kr chor dia ---- janti ho phr kia hua?

Sameera: Kia.?

Faheem: Jab wo apni rishtedaar chiryon mai phnchi to thongen maar maar kar sabne usse lahoo luhaan kr dia ---- Yahan srf khaakstari badrang chiryan zinda reh sakti hen---
Mai Neeli chirya hun --- Mai apne anjaam se waqif hun.

I dote on this piece of writing, more than awesome..!

Wuthering heights...

uptil now news are good... :)

kher,

Wuthering heights was the first english classic that came into my hands,
I was in o,levels 1,
did nt understand much at that time, and the book failed to takle place in the favourite most,s list.
but since it was maya,s favourite, I gave it another try,
and ahhh, what a master piece it is..!

Sharing something out of it,

"For shame," Heathcliff!" I said " It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive."
"No , God wont have the satisfaction that I shall," he returned.

And another

she put up her hand to clasp his neck, and bring her cheek to his as he held her;
while he, in return, covering her with frantic caresses, said wildly -

"You teach me now how cruel you've been - cruel and false. WHY did you despise me? WHY did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they'll blight you - they'll damn you. You loved me - then what RIGHT had you to leave me? What right - answer me - for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, YOU, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart - YOU have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - oh, God! would YOU like to live with your soul in the grave?"

"Let me alone. Let me alone,'' sobbed Catherine. ''If I've done wrong, I'm dying for it. It is enough! You left me too: but I won't upbraid you! I forgive you. Forgive me!''

''It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he answered. 'Kiss me again; and don't let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love MY murderer - but YOURS! How can I?''

haye ghalib,

.
.
.
.
jaata hooN daagh-e-hasarat-e-hastee liye hue
hun shamma'-e-kushta, darkhur-e-mehfil nahin rha

aur kia khoob kaha he k,

bedaad-e-ishq se naheeN Darta magar 'Asad'
jis dil pe naaz tha mujhe wo dil naheeN raha

Aha, jis dil pe naaz tha mjhe wo dil nhi raha...!
kia baaat he....!

The Greater Sea.......! KHALIL GIBRAN....

Another chapter from The Madman,

.
.
.
.
My soul and I went down to the great sea to bathe. And when we reached the shore, we went about looking for a hidden and lonely place.

But as we walked, we saw a man sitting on a grey rock taking pinches of salt from a bag and throwing them into the sea.

"This is the pessimist," said my soul, "Let us leave this place. We cannot bathe here."

We walked on until we reached an inlet. There we saw, standing on a white rock, a man holding a bejewelled box, from which he took sugar and threw it into the sea.
"And this is the optimist," said my soul, "And he too must not see our naked bodies."

Further on we walked. And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead fish and tenderly putting them back into the water.
"And we cannot bathe before him," said my soul. "He is the humane philanthropist."
And we passed on.

Then we came where we saw a man tracing his shadow on the sand. Great waves came and erased it. But he went on tracing it again and again.
"He is the mystic," said my soul, "Let us leave him."

And we walked on, till in a quiet cove we saw a man scooping up the foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl.
"He is the idealist," said my soul, "Surely he must not see our nudity."

And on we walked. Suddenly we heard a voice crying, "This is the sea. This is the deep sea. This is the vast and mighty sea." And when we reached the voice it was a man whose back was turned to the sea, and at his ear he held a shell, listening to its murmur.
And my soul said, "Let us pass on. He is the realist, who turns his back on the whole he cannot grasp, and busies himself with a fragment."

So we passed on. And in a weedy place among the rocks was a man with his head buried in the sand. And I said to my soul, "We can bathe here, for he cannot see us."
"Nay," said my soul, "For he is the most deadly of them all. He is the puritan."

Then a great sadness came over the face of my soul, and into her voice.

"Let us go hence," she said, "For there is no lonely, hidden place where we can bathe. I would not have this wind lift my golden hair, or bare my white bosom in this air, or let the light disclose my scared nakedness."

Then we left that sea to seek the Greater Sea.


haye, yaar, Khalil Gibran kitna kuch keh gaye hen, inn chand satron mai.......!

.............,

yaaar blog
bari khush hun,
kal sahir ludhianvi ki kulyaat lai,
bari sasti mil gai kitaab.....!
:grin

aur kuch khaas he nahi khne ko,
soch rahi hun, Gibran ko hi share kr lun,
magar phla qarz sahir ji ka bnta he,

wese amreeta preetam sahiba ka likha deebacha bara pasand aya share karungi kbhi.......!

aik shair jo mudat se dil ki rajdhani pe raj kr rha he
aur kitab k pehle safhe par ibarat k taur darj he

''dunya ne tajarbaat o hawadis ki shakal mai
jo kuch mjhe dia he, wo lota rha hun mai''

WHEN MY SORROW WAS BORN.....!.

When my sorrow was born I nursed it with care,
and watched over it with loving tenderness.

And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.

And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with Sorrow.

Amd when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.

And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neighbors sat at their windows and listened; for our songs were deep as the sea and our melodies were full of strange memories.

And when we walked together, my Sorrow and I, people gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness. And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for Sorrow was a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.


But my Sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to muse and ponder.

And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears. And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.

And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.

Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, "See, there lies the man whose Sorrow is dead."


An excerpt from ''THE MADMAN'' BY KHALIL GIBRAN

[Mayya, I remember how much we loved and fought reading these extracts,
specially these two,
''when my sorrow was born'' , and
''when my joy was born'' ,

And that one "Crucified"
Your favourites,
I am loving reading them again....! ]

some extracts from ''SAND and FOAM'' by ''Khalil Gibran''

''They say the nightangale pierces his bosom with a thorn,

when he sings his lovesong.

So do we all. How else could we sing?''

And again

''A madman is not less a musician than you or myself ; only the instrument

on which he plays is a little out of tune."

Another.........,

''In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden.

And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth,

there grew in my grden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers.

And my neighbours came to behold them,

and they all said to me,

'' When autumn comes again, at seeding time, will you

not give us of the seeds of these flowers that we may have them in our gardens?''