Author Archives: Shehryar Khawar

The Ugly Face of Happiness

Posted in Poetry English by
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What if happiness is not sweet salvation, but poisonous seduction?

___________________________

Happiness is a wretched prostitute,

in fancy clothes and a painted attire

Her seduction is old, in fact, it is ancient,

but it tastes fresh on the lips of desire

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Happiness is the sprinkled and colored dust;

on a butterfly’s wings as the summer lingers

The colours seem eternally captivating,

but they fade within the grasp of greedy fingers

___________________________

Happiness is a deceptive illusion,

projected by the frozen moments of time

The illusion seems perfectly alluring,

but it shatters with the very next chime

___________________________

Happiness is a vulture atop the tree of life,

disguised as a magnificent bird of paradise

The brilliance of its colours blinds the eyes,

while its greedy heart is as chilling as ice

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Happiness is opium dulling our senses,

overwhelming the awareness like magic

Its fumes give a pleasure so insane,

while it blinds us to the misery, so tragic

___________________________

Happiness is pursued, yes, but only by fools,

but it is not trusted by the wise, not at any cost

Happiness breeds hard and cruel insensitivity,

while sadness brings understanding, when all is lost

A Dialogue with the Darkness (Previously, the Darkenss Within)

Posted in Poetry English by

When the self turns inward, the sharpest blade is awareness.

__________________

I want a sharp knife;

the sharpest of all I have ever seen in this life

A knife with an ivory grip and a gleaming edge;

engraved with obscure ruins, carrying a death pledge

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I want to plunge it into my belly;

slicing it across, all through the quivering jelly

Cutting open myself and savoring the soothing pain;

smelling the oozing blood and enjoying the red rain

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The steaming guts will spill out;

and so will the coldness, without a doubt

I want to confront the coldness under my skin;

I so want to face the raging darkness within

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I want to feel their texture and what makes up my core;

the ice-cold mercury seeping out of each pore

I so want to sense their force, so binding and so freeing;

their powerful darkness vibrating in my being

__________________

I want to question them all, the unanswered queries;

hanging in balance, the forever silent juries

I want to challenge them all, the reservoirs of valor;

forever loud but hollow, the reds masking my pallor

__________________

Why do you reside within me?

Perhaps two despising lovers smiling with glee?

Or are you sent by my respectful adversaries,

not really bothered, and just two emissaries?

کبوتروں کا مزاروں سے کیا تعلق ہوتا ہے؟

Posted in Short Stories Urdu by

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میں گڑھی شاہو کے قریب، میاں میرکے مزار پر، لوگوں کی جوتیاں سیدھی کرتا ہوں. جی ہاں، میں مزار کے دروازے کے باہر بیٹھ کر، زائرین کی جوتیوں کی نگرانی کرتا ہوں. میں یہاں کیسے پہنچا، آئیے میں آپ کو بتاتا ہوں. یہ کہانی میری ہے، شہناز بیگم کی ہے اور شاید محبت کی بھی ہے. محبت کی تو بہت کہانیاں ہوتی ہیں لیکن یہ کہانی ان سے بہت مختلف ہے

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