Poems by Hyder Nayab

My Shangri-La

a poem by Hyder Nayab

The dimly lit golden glimmer,
That inviting smile on your lips,
With blinking star-bedecked necklace,
And glowing full moon on forehead:
O alluring grey eyed beauty,
I get going to think of you!

Though I have seen you quite often,
I would swear my craving for you
Does never decrease in its pull.
So I keep waiting from noon at
Puri or Gopalpur-on-sea,
For daylight reaching its autumn,
So that I could slowly move out,
And make way to my Shangri-La,
To get engrossed in sublimity,
Till after eleven in the night.

O my lovely gloaming seaside,
Your cool and quiet solemn vista,
Does give me such endearing vibes,
That I get tranquil happiness
As long as I rest on your lap,
Like someone sipping in his peg
Of wholesome whisky-on-the-rocks,
Forget himself, his whereabouts.


a poem by Hyder Nayab

Life is longer than the Nile,
Could as well be for a short while.
You could stretch it round the world,
Or entwine it on a peg.

Life can either bounce like a ball,
And like a liquid seep in the soil.
Push, push, push – it might not move;
Let go damn it! It may crawl
Doodle-poodle like a doll,
Also run with lots of fun.

Like Gavaskar played it once:
Either duck or score a ton,
Or Kapil who topped bowling,
And snatched 400 wickets all.

Having done whatever it can,
Life will go down in the end,
And set like the evening sun.

O Man! O Man!

a poem by Hyder Nayab

Much as I hesitate to say this:
When would you understand, O Man!
What has been taught you since ages
Through Prophets, Avatars, and sages?

How often has it been conveyed
That as the most advanced primate,
Brought into being by Cosmic Plan,
You should live and let live in peace.

Were not those concerns of virtue,
Love, justice, truth, and rectitude,
Prudence, piety, and forbearance,
Ingrained in your mental fabric?

How could you forget that conscience,
Which picks nuances of right and wrong,
Is ever at your beck and call,
Always anxious to pilot you?

Did not human sense and feeling
Bestowed on you by Almighty,
With fatherly expectancy,
Distance you from vice and ill will?

Yet, look how far you are enmeshed
In thoughtless self seeking pursuits,
Sans ever taking notice of
All those that inhabit this world.

So much so, Earth is overwhelmed,
And moaning wounded, insulted,
Recklessly wronged a thousand fold,
By your senseless degeneration!

Love at First Sight

a poem by Hyder Nayab

Those dark canny conniving eyes,
Razor sharp and arrow pointed,
Cast lightning glances on my heart,
Like an abrupt bolt from the blue,
Jolted my entire existence!

Crystal ball of freshly cut glass,
As delicate as a baby’s toy,
Smashed thus by full force of cannon,
Shattered into countless pieces,
Lay scattered in distress full bound,
In the courtyard of my bosom.

Piece by piece, blood dripped drop by drop;
Beams of light from smithereens lit up;
Covetous yearning surfaced on them;
Hope and despair jointly sprang up;
Pleasure and pain hand in hand appeared;
Tears of bliss and sorrow flickered
On the glistening dewy eyelids.

Gleaming walls of floodlit heartland
Harbored restive passion thenceforth,
Waves of love swelled ever after.

Love : Made in India

a poem by Hyder Nayab

A man does ever love his mate,
(Remember, not for nothing)
For youth and body beautiful,
For faithfulness and fidelity,
For that ownership which he gets;
And enjoys her endearing grace.
His mate but likes him for his love,
And loves him for his manliness,
His class and goodly temperament.
She does not love him as he does,
But craves for his love all her life.
Her liking, distinguished as love,
Indeed is for genuine kinship.
She longs to keep him for herself,
So, coyly sweeps him off his feet.
Thenceforth his love and her liking
Produce that voltaic exertion,
Which keeps him chained to her for life,
And makes a slave of her for him.

Bridge of Co-existence

a poem by Hyder Nayab

Hindus and Muslims are
Two banks of Bharatvarsh.
Build a bridge of friendship
Between these embankments.

Let there be free exchange
Of know-how either way.
Let the stream underneath,
Clean and deep, irrigate minds.

Genes mingled since ages.
Their blending continues.
DNAs are striving
For a mingled species.

Minds that know, know that Truth,
Bountiful, out of bounds,
In its cosmic disguise,
Is but one and the same.

Hence let us be friendly,
Come closer, jointly call-
Om-Allah, Allah-Om!
Allah-Om, Om-Allah!


a poem by Hyder Nayab

You visit at night
(Sometimes during day, rarely though)
The darkened mind;
And open windows
To let in light.

You bring with you
Unknown elements,
Unwelcome guests,
Who show scenes varied
Flickers fine;
And sometimes, of course,
Horrid, foul!

But… most of this
I take it as devilish mishmash,
In fact it is, flight of fancy;
The playfulness of subconscious.

They say, the sleepy psychic id
Awakens like a restorer,
Rinses the layers of our brain,
Relaxes, rejuvenates the mind.


a poem by Hyder Nayab

That enticing unearthliness
Guided me instant by instant
When I embarked on my journey
Unnoticed by intelligent men.

Unfailing in my steadfastness
I was on my way night and day.
Intuition tiptoed after me
Seasons came and left languidly.

When Nature witnessed my progress
All in one voice sang in chorus
“Hail your one in a hundred options
O, we could also go with you!”

Delusion kept calling me but
Could not restrain my onward march.
Starry skies conveyed their greetings
Bade me all endearing good luck.

Those thousand and odd earthly strings
That fastened me to my bearings
Keeping me in bondage for life
Started unbinding one by one.

Those frequent unwelcome visitors
And nagging, throbbing pains in me
Which tormented me off and on
Faded and left me forever.

That limited reach of intelligence
Its misrule of which I was proud
Had got me entangled in vain
With criss-crossing maze of knowledge.

Such awful, odious inhibitions
Which for sure when I bathed them in
Lucid air of introspection
Mutated to enlightenment.

There was no craving for comfort
No pleasure or pain, neither despair
Except an urging ray of hope
In my innermost consciousness.

My five senses, strong impulses
That ruled over my existence
Retracted inwards like mystics
And took refuge in subconscious.

That meaningless insidious grin
Which lingered often on my lips
Exhibiting mundane happiness
Vanished in humble resplendence.

Though till then I was in this world
As one could see me in person
In fact I could not see my self
But sure could peep inside of me.

Ah! There was that beaming beacon
Deep and sublime, all by itself
Flashing inside my vacant heart
Since it was an empty igloo.

Then, as I heard someone calling
My soul thrilled, that it could sour up
In space, unbounded Sunyata
To that omniscient Nothingness!

But… Oh my earthly lady love!
Why did you disengage my dream?
Tell me why you shook my shoulder?
You should have left me to my luck.

Was it you that said, “Get up – – – up?”
O Lord! Let that reverie be blessed
Let me be one with Nothingness.
Om-Allah! Amen! Om-Allah!

The Sublime Vocation

a poem by Hyder Nayab

Lofty laws of self liberation
Teach us one sublime vocation;
By invoking life saving grace
With piety, truth, and devotion.

For this Almighty has ordained
Some solemn functions on mankind
Which if performed with due diligence
Shall set free the soul unrestrained.

So, let those who want this freeway
Befriend good and keep ill at bay;
While discharging normal duties
Get going on unsullied way.

Be good as husband and father.
Absolve true love of disfavour.
Pardon innocence of its guilt.
Fight foul play with grit and valour.

Moms, you too be good as spouses;
Take care of the kids in houses.
Nurture them with love and caution;
Let them not grow up as louses.

Disband forthwith dishonesty.
Incinerate spite and impiety.
Earn your livelihood and prosper.
Neglect not those in poverty.

Disengage your mind from malice.
Restore ways and means of justice.
Set in motion global friendship.
Dismiss violence, crime, and crisis.

Untie knots of perceptivity.
Step in realms of trascendency.
Open vistas of intuition.
Submit self before His mercy.
Such style of life and vocation
Would sure bless you with salvation
From all earthly predicaments, and
Bestow unto you liberation.

The Newly Weds

a poem by Hyder Nayab

Come, Darling, let us dance;
Forget our past, our mirth enhance;
Then pray to Him, to bless us with a golden chance,
For an opening in U.S., Germany, or France.
What is here in India, except our kith-n-kin?
Who are obsessed with the intricacies of virtue and sin.
If I can snatch a fat salaried foreign job,
I could get rid of the local post,
And fly to foreign, clearing the coast.
Thenceforth, our lives would begin to be moon and money;
We could both swim in the ocean of honey;
And let go this land of doubtful destiny.

Stop it O Dear! May your wisdom enhance;
Do not be led away by your absurd stance.
Pleasure multiplies in the obscurities of romance.
Let us therefore, embark on our lives’ journey
In our village to begin;
Dole out your knowledge, my labour put in;
So that very soon it would be wholesome to live in.
The soil, the water, and the air around:
We are indebted to these,
By our heritage we are solemnly bound.
How then, can we escape their blessings so sound?
Come, come, all the same, let us dance,
And in these, our surroundings,
Our happy and healthy future glance!

Rulers and the Ruled

a poem by Hyder Nayab

Father! Father! May I ask,
As to how you feel about your new task,
Bestowed upon you by the people at large;
To rule over them as the minister-in-charge.

My child, you’re too young to understand
The intricacies of governing the people of this land.
A minister though, has a short lived job,
Could certainly live like a king of the mob.

But, mother tells me that gone are those days,
When kings used to rule the masses always.
Now it seems the people have the power to vote,
And change the rulers, as and when they happen to gloat.

Those are the laws and rules of the game,
Which only we sit, contemplate, and frame.
The voters are shown the rainbows on the sky;
They get pacified and allow us to fly.

Sorry father! Does it mean that you knowingly cheat
The innocent masses who can’t make both ends meet?
Does it not pinch your conscience a bit?
Don’t you think, their vengeance might put you in the pit?

That’s why my child, I said you’re too young to understand
The intricacies of governing the people of this land.
As a minister, I for sure would govern the masses at large;
And make my kith-n-kin, the bosses under my charge.


a poem by Hyder Nayab

When night approaches her journey’s end,
A silky screen she draws to fend;
And, like a destitute tattered pawn,
Hides herself behind the handsome dawn.
The sun appears in his baby’s hue,
Showering kisses on virgin dew.
The zephyr, as light as a beloved’s veil,
Caresses my soul and makes me kneel.
When heavenly blessings descend and soar,
In enthralled exuberance, more and more:
In that moment of nascent state,
Inspiration flutters like a bird in the cage.

Clouds, gray and dark, cast their eyes,
From out of the overcast skies,
On the flower-like face
Of rare beauty and grace.
Like sensuous moths they descend to seek
The snow-capped serene mountain peak.
With unabashed stare, in lustful glare,
The majestic sun does too admire
The smooth and charming mountain spire.
Then, as the silver starts glowing;
Winds, all and sudden, come ablowing.
The snow melts and drips: drip, drip, drip;
The streams, like serpents, begin flowing.
Tinkling notes of music surge,
Soothing sounds of opera emerge;
Sheets of water jump, jerk, and enjoy;
Rivers run down the slopes in ecstatic joy!

The setting sun advancing eve,
Dancing fire on the ripply view;
Blazing cups for the ocean’s lips,
Marigold moon on the cactus night;
Throbbing stars on the spherical height.
Fleeting fragrance on the shore
Suspended on the wind-swept floor.
Subdued whispers near the dunes;
Around the dunes the breezy tunes.
Sitting close to a big black stone,
Less like a beggar, more like a sage,
A person old and cold with age:
His only possession, lo! Behold,
Perhaps costlier than tons of gold,
A bowl, an empty pauper’s bowl!

That dimly lit golden glimmer
Of inviting smile on those lips:
O alluring gray eyed beauty,
With blinking star-bedecked necklace,
And, glowing moon on your forehead;
I get going to think of you!
Though I have seen you several times
On those beaches after sunset,
I would swear my craving for you
Never did decrease in its pull.
So, I keep waiting from noon at
Puri or Gopalpur-on-sea,
For sunlight reaching its autumn;
So that I could slowly move out,
And make way to my Shangri-La:
To get engrossed and be with you,
Till after eleven in the night.

Court Scene

a poem by Hyder Nayab

My Lord, we have a criminal here,
Who slew his soul to live himself;
Who put to death his inner being
So as to lead an evil life,
With id ensconced and unrestrained,
In all its noxious animal strength,
To ravage guileless fellowmen.
The facts put forth have established
My Lord, the crime of this accused;
So, he be sent to jail for life.

My Lord, the lordship would admit
That disposal of one’s own soul
Might be sinful but no felony.
Dispatching ‘self’ is not a crime!
My client has not even killed himself;
But rid himself of his wishful soul;
And thereafter is sailing smooth.
As such there is no culpable crime
In what he did, and what he is.
So, he be acquitted of the charge.

But, my Lord, this man sans a soul
Could prove to be a deadly beast…

Objection my Lord!
My client is… a respectful man.

Objection sustained;
Prosecution should keep control on words,
And be courteous while in this court.

Sorry, my Lord.
And with that I conclude my case.

After careful, conscientious thought,
The Court admits that in this case,
Much could be said on either side.
But, there is no law in this land,
No section of the CPC,
Which contends that,
To do away with one’s own soul
Does constitute a cogent crime.
The accused ergo as per law
Is absolved of the wrongful charge,
And acquitted hereby… honourably.

Hurray Justice! Hurray, my Lord!
Prosecution: (under his breath)
Justice be damned.

My Seventieth Birthday

a poem by Hyder Nayab

My Seventieth Birthday

On July 15, 2YK,
Lo! One more year has stealthily
Slipped out of my life unnoticed.
Yet Time did steal that happiness,
I had gathered while going round,
In earthly orbit of the sun.

How difficult it was, hope you know(!),
Keeping in motion constantly,
Sans ever staying, at one place,
Or a single moment’s respite.
But whirling round, and round, and round,
This earth’s axis and cheering crowds.

Yet I have been doing just that,
Harvesting gaiety constantly,
Thwarting on my way all these years
Each arm and onslaught of malice
While disbursing smiles far and wide,
Consigning them for young-n-old.

But see how Time winked smilingly,
Told me, “Boy all is not over;
‘Tis not yet time for halt and rest;
Be jolly and keep on moving
For more, some more trips with your bag;
Gather, and espouse love and joy”.

Now that I have been circling sun,
Whirling for times seven and zero;
Now that my self is day by day
Showing signs of growing weaker;
Can’t say how long I could do this;
O Time! Would you enlighten me?