Happy Doctors Day


You save lives, give hope to hopeless
Oh, immeasurable is your kindness.
We pay you for our ills, yes it is true
For you compassion, we are indebted to you.
'Thank You' is all I can utter or say
Wish you all a Happy Doctors Day.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

In a heap of refuse
I came across a book,
The pages shimmering and bright
Without a stain anywhere.
In the corner of my well-lit room
I am now reading the book,
Every page that to left turns
To my wisdom adds
And I become more human.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

Where is the home of happiness?
Does it live in the blueness of the sky?
Or in the depths of the ocean?
Or far away in some distant land
It dwells in a weald green?
Nay, happiness is a beauty that lives
In the heart of our deeds-
Hold the hand of some wretched being
And be his comfort and cheer;
Fill with laughter poverty's eyes
And be an elixir to some broken heart.
Happines will be there around you dancing
And you will hear its strains
With the ears of your ecstatic heart.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

Can emotions be narrated in words?
It took me an age to express
my heart to the listners,
Yes, the words were chosen with care
And every utterance was made effective
But the heaviness was still there, unnarrated.
Then the pen became a brush
And drew the hues of anguish in the bosom of a vast canvas,
The painter smiled a bit in pride but soon
The painting was found to be a sketch of incompleteness.
How to portray these emotions?
Can they ever be uttered or represented?

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

Far away in an abondoned land
There is a grave - a nameless grave;
Every night the restless spirit
Comes out of the murky cell
And whispers into the ears of darkness:
'Tell her not to wait for me
For my return is an endless dream,
I know no fulfilment of promise
And the hopes to me attached only can wither.
Why every night, like an insane matron
She watches the candle die,
And the moon, drowned in a sea of sorrows,
Continuing with ailment.
Tell her to read my woe from owl's hooting
For it too, like me, can narrate its anguish to darkness alone;
Yes, tell my Mom, that I shall never return,
To be her child again.'

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

The softest thing on earth can bear the hardest thing. Yes, I am talking of human heart.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

UTs of India & Their capitals (A Poem)

Jammu and Kashmir has two capitals, isn't it true?
In summer it is Srinagar in winter Jammu.
The capital of Ladakh is Leh, of Lakshadweep Kavaratti
The capital of Delhi New Delhi and of Puducherry Pondicherry.
Dadra and Nagar Haveli and Daman and Diu
Daman is its capital, friends, let me tell you.
Andaman and Nicobar Islands and Chandigarh, my dear
Their capitals are Port Blair and Chandigarh, do you hear.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

In the depths of night
I take a spade in my hand
And in the heart of the graveyard
In night's bosom located,
Dig out dreams — dried up and decayed.
There was a time,
These dreams like vernal breezes
Would rejuvenate my being
And give a meaning to my wandering.
The dreams, withered petals of a fallen rose now,
Of all fragrance and freshness devoid
Give my heart an ache, a stabbing ache.
The dreams I would cherish as a child,
In most horrible state, ah!
The chirrupings of the birds that dawn announce
Can be heard soon
And I bury my dream in the graveyard again.
The first light by fresh breezes accompanied
Transforms into a garden the boneyard
And I find the dreams into green boughs blossomed;
The fragrance fills my room too
And I feel mesmerized.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

My life a half-full inkpot
Which I have been filling since long
With multi-coloured ink;
Many pleasant springs and summers
I have drawn on the canvas of my existence
Using this varicolored ink
And some autumnal hues too at places added—
Now I am stuck and paralyzed,
The ink, frozen by winter vindictive
Fails to caress the tender brush I am holding
And the canvas like the inkpot too
Is half drawn and half-covered.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-

I gathered all my dreams
And kept them beneath my pillow,
The night took ages to pass,
And sleep failed to find my place;
At mid-night I lit a candle
And like beads started putting
My dreams in a rosary,
The frail thread kept on breaking
And there I found them again
Scattered and diffused—
The first stroke of dawn
Knocked at my window panes
And like a moonstruck man,
I got up and looked here and there;
The dreams disappeared into nothingness
And soon I found
My mind's heart relaxed.
From the canvas of disappearance,
I collected hope and some new dreams
And with a smiling countenance
I left the sleeping spot.

Muhammad Ulfat Anjan

-