Cassette of Love Songs by Sufia Khatoon
Side A
• Pigeons bow to one another in the asphalt rain, to make love is to hear the melting clouds and foamed heart beating against the chest of one another
Main to murid hun tera janah
wo to khak mein milkar bhi
tere didar ko tarsa hun janah
• Pink raindrops on my flower tongue, tasting the river in heat, running into the sea in the boatman's geet
• Love scented moon on my khwabgah places a kiss on my temple, the songs of endurance is played only for the restless
Wo to koi khwab sa hai
mere malik
Ek bund itraa ka mere jism par bikharta hua
koi mehtab sa hai
mere malik
Side B
• How to kiss a mouth that's sore with pain when stitched into the lovesick mountain rose
Esa nah dekh mujhe
teri dilkalshi nei marah hai
Umaar bhar behis mujhe
teri behisi nei marah hai
• It is the seasons that sound like rain frogs croaking to mate under the thick mud skin
•Soap like evening smeared on his eyes
the night is a mehram to my attar infused body in the circle of penance
shayad main nah rahun
shayad mera naam nah rahe
*****Geet- musical composition
Khawbgagh- bed chamber of a lady
attar- non alcoholic perfume
Mehram- a family guardian of a lady
Shortlisted for Yuva Puraskar 20&
22, Sufia Khatoon is a multi-lingual performance poet, artist, literary translator and mentor. Awarded with Suprabha and Santiranjan Sengupta IPPL Poetry Book Award 2023, she is the Co-Founder of Rhythm Divine Poets community Kolkata and the Editor of EKL Review. She was nominated as one of the 100 Inspiring Indian Muslim Women from West Bengal by RBTC. She has authored “Death in the Holy Month ” shortlisted for Yuva Puraskar Sahitya Akademi 2020-22 and Ger-mi-na-tion ( Longlisted Atta Galatta Bangalore Literature Prize 22) She is also the recipient of the Amio Santa Award 2017 for her philanthropic initiatives.She is a PR, Media and Event curator by profession. She is working on the 1 Million Peace Poetry Prayer Flag Installation project aimed to unify the cause of peace through poetry.
A Note of Discord by Afsar Mohammad
1
The story begins from
a tiny violin,
then drifts
along the lanes of my city.
The violin and I walk together,
and fine-tune every bit of life.
2
In effect,
many streets walk
into me,
a strange idiom of
the future bursts open.
Now, it’s my turn to figure out
each syllable and sound.
The idiom sits on my nerves,
and insists:
I follow the pitch-perfect note.
3
Then, at some point
the city decides that violin’s soul is too soft and swirly-
for a conversation.
Since I’m a little folksy too,
I try shehnai’s twists and turns.
4
How much do you know about
Bismillah Khan’s interior recesses
that stream into shehnai ceaselessly?
Shattered by utter poverty
yet,
always finding a straight path
of divinity,
How far he must have traveled into yourself?!
5
Yet,
The city declares
nothing could beat its
ferocious note of life.
I mutter to myself
and feel lost by
the pell-mell ways of the intimate lanes.
As I walk along the sea of people
then none of my forlorn utterances
make any sense
or sound.
6
Lost forever,
but never found anywhere,
any way!
Never ever.
Afsar Mohammad teaches at the University of Pennsylvania, USA. He writes in English and Telugu. Afsar’s recent collection of his poems into English was published by the Red River in 2022. Afsar has published five volumes of poetry in his home language of Telugu. He is also known for his research on Hindu-Muslim interactions in South India.
Thought and Sound by Gurupreet Khalsa
My tongue and lips form a note;
I hum a pitch of high or low;
sounds, you know, always float,
I capture air, command its flow
from thought, synaptic reverie
reminiscing buds of song and flower
to calibrate aloft a memory,
to summon souls from silent slumber.
Naad is free behind the curtain –
unheard if you are grinding,
yet attacking, scratching, slashing –
outré, you say, yet I know certain.
I whistle egrets, diamonds, queens,
fervors, penetrating wonder,
arpeggios cling to light unseen,
summon the fire salamander,
a glossed, vibrated, hallowed tone:
tension lofts beauty’s song;
they say no sound in space is known,
I know them to be wrong.
Gurupreet K. Khalsa considers connections, space, time, cosmic flow, reality, illusion, and possibility. Her poems have appeared in The Poet, New York Quarterly, IHRAF Publishers, aurora journal, Delta Poetry Review, and other online and print publications. Multiple poems have received awards. She is a current resident of Mobile, Alabama, having lived previously in Ohio, Washington State, India, New Mexico, and California. She holds a Ph.D. in Instructional Design and when she’s not floating about in space, she is a part time instructor in graduate education programs.
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