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Main to faqir hoon, har dar pe sada deta hoon Jise dena ho de, saath chalna ho chale - owais ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- मैं तो फ़की़र हूँ, हर दर पे सदा देता हूँ जिसे देना हो दे, साथ चलना हो चले - उवैस -- This is first being published on this page.

Ruka dar pe, phir badh chala Faqir na chahe kuchh, na koi - owais ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- रुका दर पे, फिर बढ़ चला फ़की़र न चाहे कुछ, न कोई - उवैस -- This is first being published on this page.

This, perhaps, is an inherent pain in the human situation. That our imagination goes farther than our power. That our consciousness allows us to feel more of what we have not, than what we do. That our imagination has given us much of what we have, is beyond doubt. Though, what we have- is that a blessing, or a curse: Who is to say? The desire, not the greed, for more-- not just, more money, more power, more fame but also, more love, more knowledge, more happiness, more life ! Does it, this need of ‘more’ ever leave the human breast? Can it? And is this just an attribute of being human, or of Life itself? Every Beta wants to be an Alpha, every weed, the place held by the crop. They all have the urge, but do they also have the pain? The pain, of not being God? - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

I scream at you. I scream at her. But I can not bear either of you even being impolite to the other. Perhaps, because I love you and I love her. But neither of you have learnt to love the other. Yet. But, as you both must know, lovers and mothers must. - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

Rog koi ji ko laga hi deta tum na hote, koi tum sa hota. - owais -------------------------------------------------------------------------- रोग कोई जी को लगा ही देता तुम न होते, कोई तुम सा होता। - उवैस This was first published in the book, 'Sham-e-raah'.

“Biradari waale kya kahenge?” Itna keh kar usne apni zindagi ki shahkaar apni nazm, ‘Sajda Aur Khuda’ nazare aatish kar di. Isi tarah yahi keh kar kitni vidhvaaen hansi khushi sati ho gaeen kitni seetaon ko apne hi ghar se nikaal diya gaya. Kitni zulekhaaen apne yusuf ka daman takte takte ghut ghut kar mar gaeen kitne qais deevane hue kitne sarmad duniya se begaane hue kitne armaanon ka gala ghonta gaya kitni tamannaen khatm kar di gaeen kitne dil jala diye gaye… kisko maloom? Kis ko maloom ki kal shayad yahi ghairatmand bhai apni hi behen ke khoon se apne haath rang le yeh keh kar, ki Biradari waale kya kahege? - owais ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "बिरादरी वाले क्या कहेंगे?" इतना कह कर उसने अपनी ज़िंदगी की शाहकार अपनी नज़्म, 'सजदा और खुदा' नज़रे आतिश कर दी। इसी तरह यही कह कर कितनी विधवाएं हँसी खुशी सती हो गईं कितनी सीताओं को अपने ही घर से निकाल दिया गया। कितनी ज़ुलेखा़एँ अपने युसूफ का दामन तकते तकते घुट घुट कर मर गईं कितने क़ैस...

Why do you fight with me? Is it because you lack the courage to make love to me? - owais -- This was first published in the book, 'Love?'.

Phir saamne raqeeb ke aakar, palat gaye, honthon pe lafze dard chhipa kar palat gaye. Dekha to uske dil mein hamen, tum hi tum mile, dekar duaaen, ashk baha kar palat gaye. - owais ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- फिर सामने रकी़ब के आकर, पलट गए, होंठों पे लफ्ज़े दर्द छिपा कर पलट गए। देखा तो उसके दिल में हमें, तुम ही तुम मिले, देकर दुआएं, अश्क बहा कर पलट गए॥ - उवैस -- This was first published in the book, 'Sham-e-raah'.

Darde dil sunaaen kisko, jo na hon aap to, gham se mar hi na jaaen hum, jo na hon aap to. Dil mein nafrat hi sahi, par yaad to kar lete hain, varna kisko yaad aaen hum, jo na hon aap to. - owais ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ दर्दे दिल सुनाएँ किसको, जो न हों आप तो, ग़म से मर ही न जाएँ हम, जो न हों आप तो। दिल में नफ़रत ही सही, पर याद तो कर लेते हैं, वरना किसको याद आएं हम, जो न हों आप तो॥ - उवैस -- This was first published in the book, 'Sham-e-raah'.

Jo duur ham rahen, voh paas aate hain, Gale milen to haath bhi na milate hain. Ajab ravish hai ham insaanon ki jahan mein owais, Jise na paa saken, us ko bhula naa paate hain. - owais -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- जो दूर हम रहें उनसे, वह पास आते हैं, गले मिलें तो हाथ भी न मिलाते हैं। अजब रविश है हम इंसानों की जहाँ में उवैस, जिसे न पा सकें, उस को भुला न पाते हैं॥ - उवैस -- This was first published in the book, 'Sham-e-raah'.

Jaao, dil pe bandish laga saka hai kaun? Jaao, usi ki taraf jaao Jis ke khwabon se aankhen makhmoor hain tumhari Jaao usi ki taraf jaao. Main to yaheen hoon yaheen rahoonga, jahan tum ne chhoda hai. Jab naye mehboob se thak jaao, chale aana vaheen paaoge mujhe jahan tum ne chhoda hai. - owais ---------------------------------------------------------- जाओ, दिल पे बंदिश लगा सका है कौन? जाओ, उसी की तरफ़ जाओ जिस के ख़्वाबों से आँखें मख़मूर हैं तुम्हारी जाओ उसी की तरफ़ जाओ मैं तो यहीं हूँ यहीं रहूँगा, जहाँ तुम ने छोड़ा है। जब नए महबूब से थक जाओ, चले आना वहीं पाओगे मुझे जहाँ तुमने छोड़ा है। - उवैस -- This was first published in the book, 'Sham-e-raah'.

Do I celebrate? Or do I sit and cry? I’ve got what I asked for. And yet, I am upset. I am upset at not getting more of you. More of you, than I asked. - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

…And a Reply He told me all about himself. What he perhaps thought, warts, and all. And asked me not an iota in return. And he watched my face bit by bit revealing his innermost, perhaps, waiting, for the first signs of flinching in my face. Little did he know that in exchange of being his, I could give up all that is mine, and all that, could ever be mine. Least of all, ever think of insisting that he fall in line with the established mores of the present day society. Little did he know that riddled with my numerous insecurities and infirmities, I could scarcely believe that he had actually brought with him, for me his golden sunshine flooding all the darkest deepest corners of my being with his undying rays of love. My sunshine, would you actually believe that the most cherished the most beloved the most important moment, in my entire life, was when in a reply to my most convoluted question about us, you had buried your face in my naked shoulder, and had said, simply, “I want to be y...

A Poser… I am not the wittiest of queens you can find. I do not have the sexiest of bodies, which keep flitting around you. I certainly do not possess the biggest of penile appendages that you have experienced. I am not even passable as a pleasure provider. I am so much older, with so much excess fat, with so little time before I lose the last hair on my head. I have the lousiest of tempers- and the worst of possessive natures. Given half a chance my mom would exchange me for an Idi Amin. So why do I try wooing you, my sunshine? What could you possibly find in me? - owais -- This was earlier published in Trikone Magazine / Bombay Dost and in the anthology, 'Yaraana'.

Talking to the Sunshine I get tired of journeys I get tired of my job, of driving of being driven crazy by my mother’s demands. I get tired of seasons; of summer, of winter even, of monsoons. I get tired of conforming to the society’s diktats. I get tired of screaming queens of scheming activists. I get tired of my desire for sexy boys with massive dicks. I, often, even get tired of myself. What I never seem to get tired of is talking to you. Any time, any place; with you, without you; I can talk, and talk forever to you. Sometimes, I talk in prose sometimes in third class poetry like this. Sometimes in the surreal language of the dreams. And sometimes without talking at all. You are my life my sunshine, how could I get tired of being with you… - owais -- This was earlier published in Trikone Magazine / Bombay Dost and in the anthology, 'Yaraana'.

Days pass Weeks pass Months pass The summer time wind the ‘Lu’, gives way to the delightfully the erratically Indian Monsoon. But he and I arranging meetings on the sly say no word; just look just touch and go away For months we look, we touch, we go away. We wait. …? - owais -- This was first published in Trikone Magazine.

They come in drag, and dance They come with false eyelashes, and mascara They sway their hips and wink in the most lecherous way they know They catch hold of me, of my hands, my legs, my crotch; of anyone, unwilling, unready to stay uncaught. They have fun or pretend to do so. They have with one and go to the next again to do so. My heart my Indian romantic heart my prick, my gay but Indian prick, We wait We wait. - owais -- This was first published in Trikone Magazine.

Rustle of fallen leaves The young, but almost dead Neem, my guardian angel and I together, we look out the window We wait We wait We wait. - owais -- This was first published in Trikone Magazine.

These fresh young faces; those, that I love ugly with a loathing, for ‘them’! I, the self-assumed rational being, and I, the unabashed sentimentalist, could either ‘I’, ever find any ends sufficient to justify this loss of compassion and caring, this death of tenderness and love? - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

Never close the door, when I am outside. I will not open it. Or ask you to open it. Or even complain about it. I’ll just stand outside, wither, and die. - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

I know this is a five star hotel, but, man-- goof up a little. Drop something in my lap. Smile at me with a twinkle in your eye. Or for never taking my eyes off of you, at the very least, get upset with me! -owais -- This is first being published on this page.

Often I wonder, how they manage to get married to women, make kids, and then drag it up at the queens’ banquet? - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

At my funeral, my friends will come with a handful of dust, and pay me back my love, for what it was worth. - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

He asked me if he could join me. I said nothing. He should have joined. Not asked. - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

…his own fart? - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

(Written during a party- Dec 5th, 1992) Tomorrow, the Nation may erupt in flames; and I am celebrating. What? My rape? - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

Having fallen in love with love itself; can I do anything, but love? - owais -- This is first being published on this page.

I know that you like to make love with me. But what I want to know is whether you do it out of preference or necessity? - Owais -- This is first being published on this page.

Even while with you, I miss you. - Owais -- This is first being published on this page.

If I have to live on a rainbow, why should it be less than The Best? I have had enough of part-time lovers-- Now, I want to make love to You, God. - Owais -- This is first being publsihed on this page.

. I love You, but permit me to do that through Your creatures. - Owais -- This is first being published on this page.