The world behind closed lids;
sight that penetrates deep into our soul,
a world unknown to us,
a person living deep within;
yet a stranger to us,
Darkness that reveals
and light that conceals,
customs of heart we're unaware of.
There's a world deep within;
a world that makes this world possible;
by making us what we are, or
impossible;
by making us what we are.
- Syed Rehan
His and her eyes,
and there are lots of wars inbetween,
fought only through eyes,
and lots of stories inbetween.
It's about him and his,
and about her and hers,
and there's a lot of explanation inbetween,
explained only through eyes.
His and her eyes,
and there are lots of promises inbetween,
kept by the look in eyes,
and the forces of love inbetween.
His and her life,
and there are lots of coincidences inbetween,
and probability, and fate;
that covered the distances inbetween.
- Syed Rehan
My eyes are burning,
fire talks to my soul
I am emptied of myself
there's no control.
I am cruel to myself,
you won't remember my words
until they become a story
and the legends are told.
I harbour a demon in me,
trying to make it a saint but
whenever we confront each other
there's no difference between a demon and a saint.
I will come singing, in tears,
would you not hear me wail!
I will come with my gory face,
see, before it turns pale.
There's fire in my eyes,
a fire that fuels the holocaust in me,
troubled I am, my creator;
uttering words that don't match,
filling the holes in my soul,
shedding tears I cannot control.
- Syed Rehan
Some myths and legends of childhood, emerging from lips like considerations for sleep and food to the thought, play with the thought process of our adulthood and spiritual part of our life.
They said when the dice rolls, the probability of it falling on the side I want it to is one out of six.
I need to distrust my misfortune five times to have faith in my fortune.
It wasn't a myth though, not a legend as well. It was probability.
The legends were of that boy whose fortune failed the probability. One who would roll the dice six times and always get the favourable side.
Such were the myths and legends that reached me. About fortune and misfortune, forests and its guards, bloodthirsty creatures, witches and wizards. And about darkness and its penetration in the soul.
They told me that a Black Cat comes to you when you are alone at night. A Black Cat comes to bad children. Children who don't obey, and don't eat their food.
I was afraid of the Black Cat. I was afraid of being a bad child; of not finishing the food that was served to me, of disobeying the foolish rules they set for children.
But the fear of Black Cat couldn't eradicate the bad in me. My fear was of being a bad child, though I was one. I feared coming of the Black Cat. I always kept myself at a safe distance from it.
A safe distance from darkness, and loneliness, and nights' freedom.
But the distance couldn't be kept for long.
My old diaries tell me that I am in love with the loneliness and freedom of night.
But how could a bad child be free at night, wander in loneliness; and not fear the Black Cat.
This was happening when I was 11. A bad child keeping the lamps of his room ignited, fearing darkness; and the Black Cat. I kept my eyes open until I was too sleepy to resist longer. Then I would sleep with some verses, that my mother had made me to memorise from The Quran, on my lips.
Fear makes you obedient to the laws of nature and religion.
The Black Cat never came. Even after I learned to extinguish the lamps and sleep in darkness. The fear of it ceased to pick up my heart beats.
The Black Cat never came. That was what I believed. Always telling myself that it never came. Though, it could have.
And it might have. In some hours of some nights.
And it might still come. To bad children. In loneliness. And night's freedom.
A Black Cat that comes to remind about the bad child that we have become. And haunt our soul for the bad things we do.
And that Black Cat might be monstrous. A demon. Or incarnation of some black wizard.
But some myths believe that the Black Cat is an angel. That comes to bad children only to make them good. And haunts our soul to remind it of the bad.
We cannot hide from our deeds.
The Black Cat comes to those who regret their deeds. None can escape its lessons. None can escape the counting of his sins.
It comes to frighten the regret. Take away the evils of selfish sinning from heart. It fights you such that it empowers you.
The Black Cat returns when the time comes.
- Syed Rehan
A child I knew
fond of possessing things
holding them under his pillow at night,
and carrying them all in pockets in the morning.
Waiting for the right road
to embark his toy car
that will take him to a new city
and his little german cannons
that will fight him all his wars.
One day the child breaks
one of his cannons, and
the red toy-car.
Forgetting that new city
and all his wars.
He tells men - going to that city,
riding alike toy-cars,
that he is now a settler,
and prefers peace over war.
- Syed Rehan
Searching you in my diaries
and tiny chits in my cupboard,
a message that could remind me
that my life isn't absurd,
turning you into insanity,
framing you in my frustration;
do I find you somewhere else
except in the dungeons of my mental palace;
writing me letters,
that reach the letterbox of my heart,
as I loose my way in the caves,
whose walls echo my calling,
and scream when I scream.
The distances are covering,
when I scream louder,
your images are clear
behind the walls of time
as I look for you, far
in the night sky;
part of a galaxy
of love, and devotion.
and call you from my window,
a phenomenon;
that brings dreams to my sleep,
or a phenomenon;
that takes away my sleep.
Where do I find you?
I have searched you in my diaries.
- Syed Rehan
In the gatherings of righteous;
men who are dedicated to perfom their duties
and get their rights,
absent is the kind heart
and the eye of love.
In the streets of my town,
souls that communicate
by the means of contempt,
and the sadistic eyes that
keep me watching;
absent is the passion of love,
and the glory of living.
In the gatherings of reverence,
where clothes decorate your body,
and power covers your sins, and
money empowers your weakness;
forgotten is the fashion of soul,
and absent is the power of faith.
In some nights
when street lamps light,
I often contemplate on the reason,
that make us deaf to this lie;
closer we reach to our graves -
higher and higher we fly.
- Syed Rehan
A sleep-depriven beggar
hungry and untidy, when asked
me for a penny; did I have to give.
But deep in my pockets -
someone holds my conscience;
wrapped in currency, corrupted
by greed that we call comfort.
Worthless is kindness
for people who confuse it with love,
worthless is their smiling
who confuse everything with love;
yet know not in its roots
what is love.
I gave him a penny
saving one for myself too,
so that when he begs again for his stomach,
he knows that the giver is a beggar too.
- Syed Rehan
Because in this world, my friend,
they believe in everything that
they don't understand. And
break everything that has a crack.
And believe their unfaithfulness
is not unfaithfulness at all, but
a matter of understanding a few things,
and not understanding a few.
In this world, my friend,
they'll only want you as a balm
on their wounds, and
call it love when they want.
Because in this world, my friend,
sentences make more sense than sacrifices,
and telling them that you love them,
makes more, than actually loving them at all.
As a matter of fact, my friend,
this world is only going to be yours,
when you understand that
faithfulness is only a disorder
and love is only a state of mind.
- Syed Rehan
It's midnight and I'm all alone,
sunken in the ocean of thoughts;
fearing that you might come,
and fearing that you might not.
As I take steps in darkness,
I am occupied by thoughts of your return;
fearing that you might come,
and fearing that you might not.
It's midnight - I haven't slept,
thinking possibilities of your return,
fearing that you might come,
fearing that you might not.
As I turn the pages of my diary,
I await writing the last few lines;
fearing that you might come,
and fearing that you might not.
- Syed Rehan
Which door did we not knock,
which pain did we not bear,
for, you came in forms we didn't understand,
when we were in a form that you didn't understand.
My love, my unrequited love
I will write to you a letter
and write it with blood.
Do you understand!
I have become a postman of my heart,
Only I fail to deliver the letter.
Do you really understand!
I have renounced the world,
only I fail to renounce your love.
My unrequited love,
will you ever understand!
- Syed Rehan
