Travel

"The more I travel, I feel less at home at my place and more at home everywhere else." – Ibn Battuta

مسدس حالی

کسی نے یہ بقراط سے جا کے پوچھا
”مرض تیرے نزدیک مہلک ہیں کیا کیا؟“
کہا ”دکھ جہاں میں نہیں کوئی ایسا
کہ جس کی دوا حق نے کی ہو نہ پیدا
مگر وہ مرض جس کو آسان سمجھیں
کہے جو طبیب اس کو ہذیان سمجھیں
سبب یا علامت گر ان کو سجھائیں
تو تشخیص میں سو نکالیں خطائیں
دوا اور پرہیز سے جی چرائیں
یونہی رفتہ رفتہ مرض کو بڑھائیں
طبیبوں سے ہرگز نہ مانوس ہوں وہ
یہاں تک کہ جینے سے مایوس ہوں وہ“
یہی حال دنیا میں اس قوم کا ہے
بھنور میں جہاز آکے جس کا گھرا ہے
کنارہ ہے دور اور طوفان بپا ہے
گماں ہے یہ ہر دم کہ اب ڈوبتا ہے
نہیں لیتے کروٹ مگر اہل کشتی
پڑے سوتے ہیں، بے خبر اہل کشتی
گھٹا سر پہ ادبار کی چھا رہی ہے
فلاکت سماں اپنا دکھلا رہی ہے
نحوست پس و پیش منڈلا رہی ہے
چپ و راست سے یہ صدا آ رہی ہے
کہ کل کون تھے آج کیا ہوگئے تم
ابھی جاگتے تھے ابھی سو گئے تم
پر اس قوم غافل کی غفلت وہی ہے
تنزل پہ اپنے قناعت وہی ہے
ملے خاک میں پر رعونت وہی ہے
ہوئی صبح اور خواب راحت وہی ہے
نہ افسوس انہیں اپنی ذلت پہ ہے کچھ
نہ رشک اور قوموں کی عزت پہ ہے کچھ
بہائم کی اور ان کی حالت ہے یکساں
کہ جس حال میں ہیں اسی میں ہیں شاداں
نہ ذلت سے نفرت نہ عزت کا ارماں
نہ دوزخ سے ترساں نہ جنت کے خواہاں
لیا عقل و دیں سے نہ کچھ کام انہوں نے
کیا دینِ برحق کو بدنام انہوں نے

Vitae Summa Brevis

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes

Within a dream.

--Ernest Dowson

Others

a kid asked his mother, "is it true that we're here to help others?",
"Yes", replied the mother.
"Then what are others here for?", asked the kid.

Dreamer

I am a dreamer who is mute,
And the people are deaf.
I am unable to say,
And they are unable to hear.

--Sheikh Sa‘di (1184-1283)

Cheers!

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die
I lift this glass to my mouth
I look at you, and I sigh --- W.B. Yeats

Soliloquy

"...O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes." --James Joyce, Ulysses (1920).

Three Fish

Three Fish.

This is the story of a lake and three big fish
that were in it, one of them intelligent,
another half-intelligent, and the third, stupid.
Some fishermen came to the edge of the lake
with their nets. The three fish saw them.

The intelligent fish decided at once to leave,
to make the long, difficult trip to the ocean.

He thought, "I won't consult with these two on this.
They will only weaken my resolve, because they love
this place so. They call it home. Their ignorance
will keep them here."

When you're travelling, ask a traveller for advice,
not someone whose lameness keeps him in one place.
Muhammad says,
'Love of one's country is part of the faith.'
But don't take that literally!
Your real 'country' is where you are heading, not where you are.

So the intelligent fish made its whole length
a moving footprint and, like a deer the dogs chase,
suffered greatly on its way, but finally made it
to the edgeless safety of the sea.

The half-intelligent fish thought,
"My guide has gone. I ought to have gone with him,
but I didn't, and now I've lost my chance to escape.
I wish I'd gone with him."
Don't regret what's happened. If it's in the past,
let it go. Don't even remember it...!
He mourns the absence of his guide for a while,
and then thinks, 'What can I do to save myself
from these men and their nets? Perhaps if I pretend
to be already dead!
I'll belly up on the surface and float like weeds float,
just giving myself totally to the water.
So he did that.
He bobbed up and down, helpless,
within arm's reach of the fishermen.

'Look at this! The best and biggest fish is dead.'
One of the men lifted him by the tail,
spat on him, and threw him up on the ground.
He rolled over and over and slid secretly near
the water, and then, back in.

Meanwhile,
the third fish, the dumb one, was agitatedly
jumping about, trying to escape with his agility and cleverness.

The net, of course, finally closed
around him, and as he lay in the terrible
frying-pan bed, he thought,
'If I get out of this,
I'll never live again in the limits of a lake.
Next time, the ocean! I'll make
the infinite my home.'

___________________

From the poetry of great Jalal ad-Din Rumi, a mystic Sufi figure in the Islamic history.