Finding time to post everyday is not always a possibility so I asked my husband to post things on this blog too. Here is the first post from him, a poem by Noon Meem Rashid. Posting in Urdu is not that simple and this is not the best translation of this fascinating poem, but it should do. If you can read and understand Urdu, you will find Noon Meem, one of the most revolutionary and thought provoking writers the world ever produced. Enjoy and comment.
The Blind Hawker
(By Noon Meem Rashid translated by Hamid Rahim Sheikh)
Scattered all over the city are
worn out and disfigured dreams
of which the city dwellers are oblivious!
I roam around the city day and night
to collect them
Heat them in the furnace of my heart
so that the old rust on them comes off
Their limbs come out nice and clean
Their lips, cheeks and heads start shimmering
Like the desires of freshly dressed bridegrooms.
So that once again these dreams may find a direction!
"Dreams for sale, dreams ..."
As the morning dawns I go calling out in the streets....
"Are these dreams real or fake?"
They check them out as if there isn't anyone more
adept at judging them!
A dream maker I'm not either
just a face-lifter....
But yes dreams are the source of my livelihood!
Evening settles in
and I call out again....
"Free everyone, free, these dreams of gold..."
Hearing "free", people get even more frightened
and slip away lip-tightened...
"Well he says they are 'free'
could it be a sham?
Some hidden deception?
They may break on reaching home
or just melt away, these dreams?
Disappear with a pop somehow
or cast upon us some spell, these dreams?
No sir, of what use could they be?
dreams of this hawker?
dreams of this blind junk hawker? "
Night sets in
carrying heaps of dreams over my head
disappointed I reach home
Mumble all night again
"Take these dreams...
and take from me their price as well
Take these dreams, dreams...
my dreams ...
dreams .... my dreams ....
their pr...iii...ceee as welllll....."