Thursday, 23 October 2014



You were my second mother
Through my silence
You chided

Ziddee you named me
In playful jest
"Stubborn as an ass"

Whilst you had no son
I was your son
"May GOD have mercy upon you
Bless you."

And accept this dua
As the dua of a righteous son.

My one regret
That i did not take you on holiday
That I was not there when you needed me

Cancer defeated you
But worse still the suffering alone
The impersonal institution took you
From us

Isolated you
Separated us
Caused you to give up

Slowly sipped your life
Without love
Or nourishment.

Until you lay on that bed
Asked me for by name
I came
And you left.

Peaceful is your name
Peaceful may you rest.

In loving memory of Sakina Aunty, my Masi (mother's sister).

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


Friday, 10 October 2014


'haps it bodes of death and pending doom,
thrice night sky traversed by new moon.

Waxing then waning along its way,
Forced to swim upon its course,
And never stray.

Before the death of winters dream.
Where life once gain knocks at the door.
The squirrel cracks,
Red breasted robin, quietly peers.

A burst of life,
There springs forth.
Of daffodils,
In patches sown.

Yet winters last breath,
Yet to come.
And bury them,
Those upstarts
Before they've become.

And once again
Life pushes forth
Until the summer of our youth
Turns to the autumn of golden years

Wherefrom the beginning
We did start.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Regents Park

Proud Parent

Proud Parent

I cannot remember first becoming farther.
I see myself in the theatre
A canopy over my wife
Hiding her from grim sight

Holding her hands
Whilst they butchered into her to extract the boys
Each so small and vulnerable
Slightly bigger than my hand.

My memory's non-reliable
Not un but non
Because I believe I have none.
Emotionally detached.
Just another fact.

Strange that I need to be moved
For those sights and sounds that reside within me
For them to be made real.

Imagine if you can a life of fact.
Dull, never moved.
Emotionally lost.
A postcard life of snapshots.

Pregnancy is one place that we cannot go,
Cannot know, nor really empathise.
Emotionally detached.

Very often the babe is competition for your wife's affection,
And time.
Imagine that twice
Imagine that twice concurrent

Like a sentence handed down.
And when your friend explains it to you
You sigh with relief.

But now through all turmoil,
Far from being farther,
I am glad that I am a father.

I am proud of my sons,
The both of them.

And love them each,
Every one singly
All of them dearly.

On the 15th birthday of my twin sons. Their birth kunyas- Sayf and Emad Ud Deen. :)

Happy Birthday Boys.

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Location:Northwick Park