Tariq Ahmad Tariq Analysis

POEM: "UNBROKEN"

POETESS: RAFIYA SYEED

ANALYSIS BY: TARIQ AHMAD TARIQ

The poetess has preferred  didactic tone to give vent to her emotions on the canvas. She seems to have visualized somewhere the silver lining encircling the darkest clouds while facing the life headlong.

The caption "UNBROKEN" connotes that there has never been smooth going for the big achievers, but they have resolved to go tough against all odds.

From the narrators perspective the crises, which the prospective achievers undergo,  could have depressed them to the core but their approach of  acting brave and standing rock strong helped them spell out success. Now when the storms have retreated, they have a reason to tell the curious world the talisman of  their victory.

The poetess, as I suppose,  shares her experience how tasty had been the fruits of the endurance after she declined to yield before the ills and pains inflicted upon her by destiny.

The poetess presumably feels that the world belongs to those who dare to dream big, and that every big dreamer is shown  a price tag for his coveted dream. Big things never come easily. They demand endurance and sacrifice.

Whispering her musings to her readers, the poetess explains that every prospective achiever wants to touch stars. In order to reach the stars, they need to spread their wings and stretch them wide to their full expanse. The poetess has created visual images of the  hazy and rough runway, take off, soaring in sky, etc. In order to have a flight in the skies the dreamer has to come on the runway. The runway is invariably hazy and rough. It has always a risk factor for the dreamer whose first step is to take off. The valiant is never deterred by the wrath of the sky. His dream of soaring in the expanse of the sky keeps him afloat and he makes tough decisions. The poetess wants all the readers to polish their thinking every moment. The poetess instructs the readers to keep on toes if they want to get noticed. She wants them to polish their thought processes  every moment. Reiterating that there is never a smooth go for a big dreamer, the poetess dares to impress upon them  that the road is inflicted with pain and hardships, and that they need a steel will in order to keep going. They need not get disheartened because future belongs to those who dare to endure  with single minded devotion,  and keep consistent on their hard working approach. Hope is the unfailing weapon in the hands of these mighty dreamers. The unbeaten flight of the big dreamers help them discover all horizons, and scale all the skies getting visible to them during the course of their flight.

Conclusion:The poem "UNBROKEN" is a well knit poem. The poet has embraced the style of "H. W. LONGFELLOW", and has put across her message in a way that it creates a telling effect.

Kudos to the poetess!

13/01/2018

Rabia Kirmani

Poem: Masked Without Voice(Dedicated To Zainab)Poet: Rabia Kirmani

Brief Analysis by:

 Tariq Ahmad Tariq

A nice theme has been woven into a poem. It does really show how much the poetess is receptive to the social needs.

The plight of Zainab seems to have shaken the poetess to the core.

The poetess has created visual imagery at the outset. She seems to be lamenting that the genuine voices have been choked,  and the humanity has been deported to the ground to be trampled upon every bit.

When Zainab was to be bruised, the nature too seemed to have  been  conspiring. The sun hid his face, and the dead of the night prevailed. The cries of the victim could be heard by none.

The poetess feels the pain and listens to the cries which the helpless girl,zainab was denied to shout. She visualizes her being bruised. Her childhood is brought to the altar, and thorns are run deep down the innocence. The poetess mourns the sleuth of the masses and cries out if they keep inactive the whole race will, for sure, face the same fate.

Lot of love for the poetess.

Stay blessed.



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story

           

                 "There Is Many A Slip Between The Cup and The Lip"

A Story By:Tariq Ahmad Tariq

Behrampora Raffiabad

Tariq Ahmad Tariq and Hassan Azhar

While driving home from Dr Rafeeq Masoodi's residence, my friend asked me, "Tariq! What does it mean when we say there is many a slip between the cup and the lip. "

I smiled because I knew Hassan Azhar's ways well.

"I suppose, this proverb is used to emphasize the power of destiny in our lives. We have the capacity to propose, but God, at times, knows well how to dispose", I explained.

"Today you were victimized", Azhar laughed me silly.

"Please tell what happened", I pleaded.

"First, give me the account what engagements you had today here at Masoodi sir's residence", Azhar asked.

I started recollecting the thread of events.

I started, "At reaching his residence we saw the grand old man seeing off some dignitaries at the entrance. We kept waiting near the tent gate. He came barely after two minutes. At seeing me he exclaimed, "Tariq, a great gift was given away by the departed soul while leaving for the heavenly abode. My niece Durdana Javid Masoodi topped the jkbose class 12th examination. "

I saw a cute smile playing on the lips of Dr Masoodi.

The floods of the smiles on the face of the grand old man elated me as i felt myself blessed  that Dr Masoodi was sharing this happy moment with me. He  took me to the tent where we were served food. After the food was served, we saw dignitaries from all corners of the valley  pouring in. Dr Masoodi would, time and again, address me, and give me their introduction. A young man kept in front of him, and Masoodi Sir yelled, "Tariq! Do you know this young man. "

"Yes Sir, I think he is Dr Aabid, who often forgets my name", my answer broke the gathering into smiles.

"Have I told you about his appointment as Editor Cultural Academy", Dr Masoodi asked.

Though I had already been told by Masoodi sir about this, yet for the sake of other interested people I answered I knew not. He then told how he made it to the coveted post.

In the main while, we saw Durdana Javid, the topper of class 12th BOSE Examination entering the tent to have some message ferried for Dr Masoodi. You (Azhar), stole the opportunity to record her views about her grand success in the BOSE examination. Durdana spoke in English with utmost fluency and with an inspiring accent. She thanked  the Almighty Allah, the support of her parents, teachers, and friends.

After spending two hours in the tent listening to the valuable exchanges of different people with Dr Rafeeq Masoodi we left for home by 4:30 pm with a promise to our patron that we would visit him again in the coming days.

After having told the whole story to Hassan Azhar, I asked him to tell me where I missed to make the contact of my lip with the cup. Azhar did again smile and said the moment when Masoodi sir addressed you saying,  "Tariq! the departed soul gifted us with a delightful news", your unseen friend, Farhaan, came to me whispering in my ear, "Hello Sir, I am Farhan. How are you? "

I greeted him, and in the wink of an eye,  he boarded the car which was waiting him. The opportunity was too precious  to be missed, but was too short to call you to meet Farhan. The irony of the destiny was that You were only two feet away from Farhan, and you still missed his glimpse. "

I smiled myself silly and laughed but it was the laugh of the widow.

I kept murmuring for the whole evening,  "there is many a slip between the cup and the lip".

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Poem3

The poem "Sopore massacre" is written by Rabia Kirmani, who is just 15,and has a great inclination towards written words. The poem was posted on a renowned literary page "Rafiabad Adbi Markaz" for analysis and critical appreciation on the eve of 6th January 2018, the 25th anniversary of Sopore Massacre.

Many critiques as well as writers put their best efforts to deconstruct the poem and decipher its message. Lets have a brief look upon the poem, and then a few of these analyses written by different poets and critiques.

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"Sopore Massacre"

Howling sirens

Terrible dark clouds

Pillaged Rain

Signal that the sky was crying

Evil Sky!

Hiding behind clouds

Ashamed

At the first light of

6 january 1993

Mark of baba yousuf lane

Inception of their bane

Hushed Town

There was crackdown

A single Gunshot

Apple town turned blot

94th battalion went on rampage

butchered 57 civilians

pumped bullet into the bodies

Dragged mercilessly

The men were lashed

JKY-1901 Driver out

passengers shootout

Wailing aloud

Shootings everywhere

48 faced down in the mud

Inside the four corners of this town

Snow meltdown

One bullet left them dead

the blood they bled

Left the ground stained red

9 burnt alive

Seeing the flames

Ashes deprive

Souls burnt

Hearts died

Apple town cried

Torched buildings

Living debased

Massacre quoted as Farce

News hitted home

Looked into my mothers eyes

She was searching for a dad with a smile

Looked into my sisters eyes

She was stitching Dad's torn clothes that night

Looked into my Brothers eyes

He was lifting the Coffin of Dad

Looking into mine

They wanted HIM Back

                         _I lost my heaven

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Tariq Ahmad Tariq

ANALYSES OF THE POEM:

1.By: Tariq Ahmad Tariq

"Sopore Massarce" by Rabia Kirmaani

The poem seems  to be an eye witness account from the perspective of a minor girl from a destitute household. Her father, as per the connotations of the text,  has just left the home to earn his living.

All of sudden the sirens start howling and a peaceful town is brutaly exposed to miseries never known to it before.

Gunshots are heard,  and the people are butchered like cattle, and their bodies are mercilessly stuffed with bullets. The slaughtered men are dragged on the roads, and the roads are thus painted  red. The rampage of the houses and the business establishments follows and the hunger of the wolves is thus satiated to the core.

The poor girl is fear struck. She has, however, no fears about her family untill some the mysterious news flies and shudders the poor cottage to the core.

The mother is sobbing but holding patience. The sister,  devoid of the fact,  is  still stiching dad's torn clothes to be used by him the next day.

All of sudden the minor girl sees her brother  from the window lifting the coffin of his dad. Thus the heaven of the minor girl is snatched from her along with some 57 families whose wait for their parents will never see an end.

The poem is brimmed with pathos. The visual as well as sound imageries have been lavishly used. Sirens have been projected the way as if wolves were howling. Rain has been presented as if it were outlaws all set to plunder a happy and prosperious hamlet. Yes these metaphorical connotations has given the poem a smooth go, because these wolves as the poem plodes ahead then suck the blood of innocents, and the scenes of rampage are seen at its maxima.

Kudos to this sweet child poet. 

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2.

Analysis by:

Dr Rafiq Masoodi

Beauty of it...

Its a beautiful depiction of historical happening mixed with poetic imagery but historical content has always to be consolidated with docu_facts which poet has infact tried to mix with...people who are witness to this tragedy will know the ethos and pain and the poetic xpression of poet...

This is "Realistic and Formalistic Approach " to literature which Eliot TS and Richards (am missing full name) would say A MUST in literature.

My suggestion to poet wud b to refabric and repolish the poem and further  study or at least read gr8 classical and contemporary western and Eastern English poets to hav further experience of poetic xpression,form and style...

Kudos to the poet fr using xtra ordinary vcabulary of historical facts in most befitting and aesthetical maner.

Poet is bound to touch dizzy heights in future....



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3.Analysis by:

Farhan Zain

Itz the incident which I m nt familiar with but I hv heard from my inmates ..I can say that the poet has written the poem with an immotional touch..Tragic element in the poem pinches the nerves and the pathos is seen as if the poet is an eye witness to the incident..A good attempt and a great  start up by the budding poet..It is really priceless..The pain and suffering is evident ..a scene is created as if we r watching it ...that means poet has made us to observe and feel the trauma he feels..It is a pathetic story of a hospitable land kashmir....Hats off to the poet

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4.Analysis by:

Hassan Azhar

Sopore Massacre is a very good attempt from the poetess. She is not witnessed to that dreadful scene but that horrible scene  would have been observed by some one else where from the poetess picked the thread and started knitting this master piece.

The poem in a way, is presented, shows  that poetess is observing every thing minutely of this frightful massacre. The diction of the poem is degnified. Words not only say what happened but they also cry, weap, crawl, creep, escape like those victimised and hapeless people who were gunned down ruthlessly.

The artistic approach of this buddin bloom poetess seems  mature. She knows fully what to say and how to say. As mentioned above that she has not observed the bloody situation. She was only made known about the massacre but the imagery of the poem speakes about the volumes of her ability, skill and craft. The countless qualities of this beautiful poem is a clear indication of poetesses bright future. The affectif of the narrater makes the reader sensational. The mode of speech is motivating. The compositions and compounds are not ambiguous.

Howling sirens, terrible dark clouds, pittaged rain, crying evil sky, hushed town, stained red ground, deprived ashes, burent souls, torched buildings create pain  and havoc  all around. There is enough linkage between the words and the idea.

Congrats to this budding bloom poetess

We the members of Rafiabad Adbi Markaz wish very good future to this young poetess. We wish her grand sucess. We expects that the poetess will groom herself and will explore new heights in this field. We are all praises for this budding poet of North Kashmir.

Admin

RAAM

Tariq Ahmad Tariq.

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Tariq Ahmad Tariq

Poem:4

Poet: Rahamatullah Mir

Analysis by:Tariq Ahmad Tariq

The poem

"Can You Handle Me", has been woven to rhyme, and sound rhythmic. The simple diction makes the poem a taffy to relish upon lavishly.

The content suggests that the narrator does either live with a naive temper or  poses selfishly bad tempered so as to get rid of one-sided affair that he feels has been afflicted upon him. The narrator posses to be merciless.

Looking between the lines, the content suggests that the narrator deliberately chooses to tease the candid emotions of his beloved. His target is to bring his beloved to tears,  but he chooses to go slow and discover new low every time.

There is a satire to candid love in making. New low could be blocking the efforts to meet, talk or respond, or pretending selfishly disloyal,

or showing least inclination towards continuing the affair,

or  prolonging her wait.

These all things are aimed at  disappointing  the beloved to the core, so that  she could be made to lament.

The second stanza, as I could understand, has not too good a muse attached. The beloved is spared,  for timebeing,  from cutting her slacks, and instead her backs are preferred to be targetted. The demand for rings, and songs seems defeating the idea before hand. The poet may necessarily have some symbolic treatment attached with it which seems to be far fetched conclusion to the reader presently.

The third stanza is keeping the dictating tone of the narrator intact. The beloved is denied of the hope of happy journey. She is dictated to pay the fee incase she wants to keep it going. The mention of fee suggests that the affair is not a pure one based on mutual trust,  but a mere bargaining, and the beloved's pure love is facing blackmail at the hands of the greedy lover. He asks her time and again the same introgative, "Can you handle me? ", suggesting that she can never handle him, so it is better to leave him and forget him.

The fourth stanza keeps the mischievious tone of the narrator going. The lover here,  puts a price tag to himself, and alarms his beloved explaining that even when she could afford to buy him, she would utterly fail to make him loyal to her. He being selfish to the core will erode all of her leisure that too for no avail. He keeps busy creating fears and apprehensions.

He tries his every nerve  to make her believe that he is not too handsome, and that he is obsessed with spirits, so it is never possible to handle him.

The poem projects a merciless lover who enjoys teasing his beloved and makes hay. This is a good addition and possibly a satire to the modern day affairs that usually harbours the same intention but keeps the impression otherwise.

The poet has good style to have his say said. He, however, needs to work harder to weed out the lines defeating the argument.

Kudos to the poet.

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Story:2

A Voyage To The Hearts

Tariq Ahmad Malik

Tariq Ahmad Malik(Aatif)

It was his maiden journey to the sea .The morning breezes were smoothening the otherwise rough surfaces of the sea. The sea was as calm as the dead of the night .They were fifty people boarded on the ship watching with curious eyes how the water slipped past the ship. Thus sailed their ship on and on, without lending anyone curiosity to look deeper in the water shells. Aatif’s attitude was no different from the world that sailed with him to the Elephanta Caves. It was the voyage of nine nautical miles across the sea from the Gate Way of India.

The other day Aatif reached his work place. The voyage of the sea was still abuzz in his mind .He was mindless of the fact that at his work place scores of little children, brimmed with divine innocence ,had constantly been zooming their attention towards him. Their eyes were all agleam with hope and trust , and their lips bedecked with utmost curiosity for knowledge and wisdom. The irony of the situation was that Aatif was not a bit interested in their endeavors. To him theses little monsters were yet another burden on his fragile shoulders .He talked to them thoughtlessly without showing any care for their sentiments.

The innocent cries had ,however, found a breathing ground.  They would feel their tongues getting honey drenched by exclaiming the name of their teacher. Every moment they would feel the distance being scaled rapidly. Their teacher ,however, had failed to inspire them .He was least bothered of the fact that these colourful birds had just left their nests. They had left behind  cradles, the lap of the mothers, the warm beddings, the courtyard, and the rooms stuffed with colorful toys. Aatif had,however, this much of realization that these children were exploring every possibility to bring their teacher round. Under his nose, Aatif would listen to the gossips of these children. Some little boy would narrate how he got crossed with his mother when he had demanded pocket money.Little girls would often complain  of the confrontations which their brothers warranted on them. Everyday some little angel would gift Aatif some soiled apples.The malady ,however, persisted. Aatif did hardly rate their sharing and caring with proper measures.

One evening enlightenment came,and Aatif’s stream of consciousness was evoken. He could not help recollecting the moments which the school children had gifted him.He realized that their world knew only blessing and interestingly he was the pivot of their world.Soon Aatif found his eyes getting wet with tears.He resolved to become the ideal teacher for his ideal students.He waited impatiently to see the new day dawning.

The next day the transformation started .Aatif took his children to the playground, and made them into a circle. He winged their arms flat and chained them together .A thunder of laughter filled the environs.Aatif played “The Lion and The Goat” with the children .At the end of the game all the little angles came and flocked around their teacher and hugged him tight .This was the first time that Aatif had felt some sweetness springing from the hearts of the children and making the teacher feel the happiest creature of the whole world.

Aatif had now discovered the offerings of his sharing and caring attitude.He started to mingle with them every day and found them every inch receptive.If some body would be absent ,he would now miss them badly.One day a student kept absent for successive three days.The fourth day Aatif went to his home to know his whereabouts.I saw his parents getting emotional on seeing the caring  teacher at home.The parents started blessing Aatif  whole heartedly for the reason he was caring their son to that extent.That day ,Aatif discovered that it worked wonder when a teacher makes the parents believe that their son  or daughter meant a word for him.He could anow find a reason to believe that the parents could be convinced to be play their role in nurturing the career of their children.

Aatif would now believe that the children were by every definition ,a divine gift to the mankind.Unlike the grownups ,children never compromised their innocence .The innocence, purity, and sincerity was their hallmark. Their hatred,joulsy,and prejudice,if any ,was short lived .It were they who made the teacher feel special.

Aatif owed all his experience in the profession of teaching to his students.There were now dozens of incidents to recollect to this effect. He recalled one such incident.

One day he paid a visit to a friend.His friend ,by that time, was not at home.His wife told Aatif to wait for sometimes as he was expected to come within half an hour. Aatif entered the main hall.He sat and kept waiting.Soon an eight year old girl approached him with a half dozen dolls.She started playing with these dolls.Aatif found a reason to talk to the girl,

“Which of the toys do you love the most?”

The girl showed her a broken doll ,and answered, “This is the doll which I love most.”

Aatif was confused how a broken doll could be so dear to this child.He asked the girl the reason.She answered with all innocence,

“If I don’t love this wrecked doll, who else will love it?”

The response of the innocent girl brought tears to his eyes.He had never tasted such an amount of wisdom from such a little child before.He was now evoken to the new reality.True is the philosophy that says Child is the father of man.Aatif determined to dedicate all his time for the betterment of children.

How could Aatif make the personality of his students shine, was now a million dollar exploration.He resolved to put in endless efforts for his children.His chest would expand with pride to see his students in action. He started to look for endeavors of his children,and turned his efforts in that direction.

On his part ,Aatif was now very particular about the children.He wanted to see them grooming into advanced learners.He explored every possible opportunity to develop good communication skills in his students.

Aatif drove his students to debates, quiz shows, skits ,performing arts, and other workshops .He started using morning assembly sessions for making students acquire different skills. Morality and value friendly life style remained his priority. Soon he saw the reflection of his efforts quite vividly in his children. He did never believe in making favorites among students.He wanted all the teachers should organize sharing sessions for the students .He believed that the sharing sessions motivated the students to overcome their shyness. He kept golden bells invariably ringing for them.The students would visit library quite often to see Aatif passing directions. He had motivated them to have discussion sessions in the library room.He kept a record of the students who inspired him with their inborn talent, and tried to hone their talent.

He believed that students be given to realize their potential, and be helped to absorb positive self concept.He believed in discipline but never used the rod to prevent mischievous activities.

This narrator believes that Aatif would be still enjoying his enterprising aptitude somewhere. His approach has now acquired good currency. Many of his students have opted for teaching, and they are taking Aatif’s mission forward.

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Poem:5

Shahid Shafi's poem

His Land Is Kashmir

Revew by: Tariq Ahmad Tariq

Asalaam Alikum.

I suppose every poet treasures aestheticism. Poets know the art of exploring beauty of ideas. They choose inspirations worth spreading, feelings worth sharing, and harbor words which attract all the senses of the readers simultaneously. Poets never use monotonous words. They shun the words which fail to convey the ideas in their original occurrence. These words, like those of roses, seem to smell sweet at the very first sight. Emotions carried around in the cart of unfamiliar diction find poor respondents.

The great poets of every age have believed in the simple diction. Wordsworth of the gone by ages, and Maya Angelou of the present age need not the help of lexicons or thesauruses to understand. Their message finds no transmission loss any where in the world.

I suppose the Kashmiri born poets writing in English are tough to understand,  than any of the native English poets. Kashmiri poets, i suppose, fit ideas to the words having different connotations and feel the work is done for them. They need , as i feel,to revisit their approach and write heartfelt sentiments in the natural flow, they get birth in.

When I read the poem. I see that the first stanza is simply a pack of phrases with out completion of the idea.

The word "is" is needed to be inserted before "frightened" to make it a complete idea. The first stanza, even after making it connotative, still fails to evoke response, or raise curiosity in the reader.

The second stanza presents "a monster", gulping the youths. The boy presented in the first stanza is made to repeat the same helplessness which he is destined with in the first stanza. The monster is shown doing nothing to the boy. Here the narrator leads from the front and paints the  helplessness of the boy on his canvas.

In the whole poem 'liquidation dreams', and 'monster' could have been developed into symbols, and the reader could have found his role by making varied connotations; but the poet has explained every thing before hand, and spoiled the texture of the poem to the core.

Barring visual images, the poem has nothing to showcase. The poem loses epigramic essence.

We all believe that

Words are just like leaves, and

Where they most abound

Much fruit of sense is rarely found.

The prose version of this poem can be even more concise than that of the poem itself.

Summary:

In a sorrowful night, a run- away boy from an opressed land got frightened with his floating dreams. An awful monister, in this land, would gulf the youth of this land. The boy at seeing him started sobbing and chrushing teeth in desperation. The poet notices, and simply potrays his helplessness on the canvas.

The poet has put his best efforts. He, however, needs embrace a broader perspective to and prensent his sentiments accordingly.

Good luck to the poem.. 

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Poem:6

Analysis by
Tariq Ahmad Tariq
Rafiabad Adbi Markaz

In the first place the poem appears to have been written to suit the children's tastes. The poet has done no ground work, has not found any striking idea worth spreading, but has straight away started making the thread of seemingly rhyming words.
Yes, he has succeeded in doing so. The begining appears good. A symbolic treatment has been preffered at the outset, but the poet has got exposed very soon.
Starting the story from the apple tree. Where in,  the bee flies and finds pleasant places, covered with wonders on either side.
Here in, keeping the perspective of bee at the back burner, the thread seems to be losing essence. The grammar has also been not taken due care of . "Enter "should have been "entered".
I found little children dive, they share love like close relations. This is totally some different idea that defeats the first one.
Then  the succeeding lines

Down in the grass............... height is found.
This couplet, if for the supposition's sake it is, has again no coherence and cohesion with the initially crafted idea.

Dream being long
Could not not be compared to some beautiful song.

I wish to contrbute my every day with kids of play,
makes no sense.

Contribute towards the kids at play could have been logically correct. Ideas are like fighters, this phrase does also paralyse the logic.
The poem seems to be a  square peg pushed  into a round hole. The poet needs to learn the basics of the english poetry form, the style, the organic unity etc to groom himself into a good poet.
Hope the poet will emerge with vigor and vitality in his second attempt.
Tariq Ahmad Tariq

Tariq Ahad Tariq

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By:Tariq ahmad malik

A Strange meeting’

Hello friends; I am Tariq, your host, for the next fifteen minutes on a

strange journey. ’Well’, In the still of this moon-lit evening, I have had the pleasure of recording the views of the world’s leading writers and thinkers for our college magazine. To cash in on this occasion, I have chosen a striking topic. It is none other than all times attractive creature-‘woman’.

“In the beginning”, said a Persian poet,” Allah took a rose, a lily, a dove, a serpent, a little honey, a Dead-Sea apple, and a handful of clay. When he looked at the amalgam, it was a woman”.

To begin with, my very first question goes to Mr Nietzche. ‘Sir’- ‘would you please describe woman in your own version’

Nietzche: God created woman, and boredom did indeed cease from that moment; but many other things ceased as well. Woman was God’s second mistake’.

Tariq: ‘Oh! What a tough stand. It is too confusing to see a woman through the eyes of a man. Between the two beholders, one sees vivacity in her and the other frailty. Let’s know what James Stephen thinks about women’.

James Stephen: ‘women are wiser than men, because they know less and understand more’.

Tariq: ‘Frailty, thy name is woman’. It is what Shakespeare has to say. Women have every right to denounce this claim. But, Mr Plutarch claims that his view about women is above controversy. Mr Plutarch, may we have the pleasure of knowing it.

Plutarch: Yes, my view reads, “when candles are out, all women are fair’’.

Tariq: O! no-

Plutarch: O! yes-

Tariq: Truth is in itself an evidence. Mr O. Henry is looking curious to add something. Lets know how he adds his head-load of twigs to the fire.

O.Henry: “I wish to disclose a secret this time, but don’t pass on these remarks to my wife.The secret is, if men knew how women pass the time when they are alone, they would never marry”.

Tariq: Oh ! no .

O.Henry: Oh! yes.

Tariq: Thomas Fuller’s heart is unmoved, even at seeing a gracious lady walking with a majestic gait. The man in him never stirs. Why is it so Mr Fuller.

Give woman thy whole heart, and she will break it.

Tariq:What do you say to it, Mr Prestwich.

Prestwich: Nothing-but, thanks for quoting my couplet to me.

Tariq:Mr Prestwich ,I am your fan ,that is why I quoted you .Anyway, we have in between us a great personality who has lately been sandwitched between the affirmation and negation of women .He is none other than Mr Ceruantes Mr Ceruantes, please expose us to the tastes of this sandwitch.

Ceruantes: Between a woman’s yes and no, there is not room for a pin to go.

Tariq :Stolen looks would be the source of joy for Thomas Morre, when he was young. But now he has matured to the reality and holds a revised stand. Yes, Mr Morre Has women still the same fascination for you?

Thomas Morre: My old books were women’s looks

And folly was all they taught me.

Tariq: What is beautiful and what is not only the beholder knows. But…what Mr Samuel Johnson knows about women is only known to him. ‘Yes’, Mr Johnson, please have your say about it.

Samuel Johnson: I am very fond of the company of ladies. I like their beauty. I like their delicacy .I like their vivacity ,and I like their silence.

Tariq: Wow! me too .Anyway my article is stuffed fully. It has been nice meeting you. Thanks for joining me.

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Nature Has For Me
By: Rafiya Syeed

When the chanticleer signals the dawn
when the silent world wakes with yawn
when the frogs croak to flee,
that is the music nature has for me.

When the flowers bloom with smile
when the nightingale sings with style
deep from the soil and on the tree,
That is the splendour nature has for me.

When the sky is set to pour the cloud
when lightning and thunder rumbles loud
in the spring a blessing so free,
that is the mettle nature has for me.

When the passerines and raptors return to bed
when the sun set is radiant fiery red
up the hill and over the lea,
that is the calmness nature has for me.

When the paddy and wheat are greenset
when the brook gushes down the fastest
in the fields and full of glee,
that is the faith nature has for me.

When the bright stars twinkle with proud
when the moon peeps through the cloud
in the night and over the sea,
that is the victory nature has for me

......................... ۞۞۞.................
Analysis by:
Tariq Ahmad Tariq.

Respected Poet and respected cretics,

[From a person who reads, thinks, and writes only in kashmiri language. ]

With kind regards, I want to put on records that on the day when this english poem is posted on the literary page "Rafi Abad Adbi Markaz",  our english poets [cretics] have decreed the presedures of criticism with reference to this poem and the poems expected to be posted here hence forth.
It proclaims that we the analysts of oriental poetry genres are going conventional way.

Our say is, Yes we go this way because the critic in the oriental literature is virtually a bridge between the poets and the readers. The poets write from their intution, the readers read to enjoy, read to comprehend and read to reach the core of the idea that is presented. The poet uses devices to form different images in the minds of the readers. He does make meaning difficult with conscious efforts and calls it an art. An idea that could, otherwise, be presented in the plain text is presented here through simile, metaphor, conceit, symbol, metonomy, personification etc. What if the reader, by his own efforts, fails to reach the poet's perspective. Who will bring him round if the cretic keeps himself restricted to enjoying the poem without outlining the secret that helps  him enjoy the text.

With reference to this poem, One of our english language poets says, "this poem reflects simplicity, lucidity, and beautiful presentation of thought".
Another says, "Digging in the deeper meaning, does simply kill the beauty of the poem".
The third one says, "lets enjoy different discoveries of the poem by descending to phrasel criticism".

To me,
Yes, the poem is simple. Yes,  it has a proper rhyme scheme in place. Yes,  the poetess has her own  style.
Yes, it is a well-made verbal object and, What an honour to the language!
Yes, a reality common to all has been given a vibrant treatment. A unique perspective;. so unique that it appears that it has never been said before.
The poetess has spelled out how she has found out the secrets of wonderful human values like those of music, splendour, calmness, mettle, faith and victory.
She has found music in the nature, in the roosters' crowing as well as in the frogs' croak. This music breaks the slumber of the silent world.
The poetess has attained grandeur from the flowers which smile while blooming and,  she owes her style to the nightingale.
Her faith is strengthened at seeing the song birds as well as the prey birds returning to their nests by the sun set.
The poetess tastes victory at getting inspired when she realises that even the  darkest night fails to restrict the stars from twinkling. Thick stretches of clouds utterly fail to restrict the moon from peeping through them.

The poem is full of visual images.
Silent world, a metaphor for sleeping people has nicely been carved. 
The sky is set to pour, is a metanomy worth praising.

The poem is beautifully rhythmed and rhymed. I will give 90 marks out of 100.The next 10 marks, i reserve, for, there is always scope for improvement.
Great effort.


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Tariq Ahmad Tariq

Poet: Shahid Shafi

Analysis by: Tariq Ahmad Tariq

Todays poem is a little bit confusing for me. May be my intellect would be failing to pick the thread.

This poem has four stanzas. The first  stanza provides the setting. The third and the fourth  stanzas hired by flashback technique make the plot; the last stanza brings forth the required conclusion.

It is said, if in a certain play the first scene displays a gun hung on the wall; in the last scene it has to fire. By going this approach the poem seems to open on the sad note. The speaker has sleep-sick eyes. The night is in its darkest rage which makes the otherwise bright eyes of the speaker assume the gloom worn look.The fox wails at the end plaines adds to the haunting atmosphere outside and makes it more grim.  The speaker, however,  tries to fill his eyes with happy moments by recollecting how he had once spent a sleepless night at a cute inn and had found a reason to fall in love.

The speaker does again make setting in a way that connotes a diffetent story. The inn is decorated with artificial flowers,  ornamental furniture. There are soothing lights, and a girl is displaying erotic gestures. She makes her maiden love speech and the job of the speaker is done.He falls prey to the erotic gestures. He falls in love with the girl. 

Though the speaker calls the moments spent at the inn very precious,  he, however, fails  to call his love  a spritual affair by dubbing the gestures of his girl erotic. Thus the visit paid to the inn had extended him sensual enjoyment to the core. 

The dead dark night is now in full rage,  and it snatches from the speaker the joyful flashback. The speaker realizes with pain that he is in deep trouble and can not deceive the horrible night, and he does instead say goodbye to the sights which had once offered him sensual pleasures to the tune that he never forgets.

The poem does not have too much of novelity of ideas. There aren't too many shades of connotations. Free verse technique has been used.Not too many poetic devices in view. The poet has,  however,  justified the theme that "When in deep waters,  whimsies fail to land you at safer islands".

A good attempt.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Poet: Syed Navreen Qadri

Tariq Ahmad Tariq

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Poet: Ishfaq Baba
Analysis by: Tariq Ahmad Malik

Poem

Lonely journey for long wait.
Dazzing tube light and my long stare.

Jerking and clinking the scary horn
The fear of spotless destination and my indomitable travel.

My isolated gasping over a lonely bench
But her calm voice of appreciation and care is worthy the thousand loves.

Words no more define you for me
Feelings no more justify my passion for you

I'm growing with you to live the best
Haven't this God's mercy to me.
....................................
By Ishfaq Baba

Analysis:
By: Tariq Ahmad Malik

The poet visualises "wait" as a vast desert which he travels all alone. Being aloof in the wilderness of the desert fills his mind with the clouds of fear,  and he sees frightful horns of some black monister looming before his eyes . These horns make continuous jerks and produce haunting noises.

The poet, determined to go across the desert of wait, finds his destination clueless. He finds late a bench lying as lonely as the poet himself, and sits on it  for a while . Here he realises that love invariably means to toil hard for winning the heart of the companion. He realises that his companion certainly deserves much more than these hardships brone by the poet. He believes that some calm voice . Is hovering over  and appreciating him. His inner voice bespeaks saying "his companions is worthy the thousand loves". All this helps the poet  enjoy the journey in the hope that it will be rewarded when he reaches the destination.

The pattern of the poem demands that the poem be read  line by line. The poem touches the centuries old 'subject' but the poet has tried to give it a novel treatment. The poem has, definitely, its organic unity intact. The diction is simple and poetic. The reader extracts pleasure in the first instance and wisdom towards the end.

Complements for the poet
Tariq Ahmad Tariq

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MEMORIES IX

I remember!
That blithe moment
When fluidity of night dropped in the bay of your orbs,
Comingling with the mercurial salinity there,
And those red roses of dreams flowered
On the parched soil of one of its margins,
On sly;

I remember!
When hazy muzzy moonbeams
Kissed the colourful petals of those rosy dreams,
Making them ooze out beads of sweat
With their coruscunt chilly sheen;

I remember!
When all the waves in that bay
Danced to the tunes of the fall and rise
of your sable eyelids,
And every dream, turning turbulent, lay so heavy
On the feeble bosom of the night;

I remember!
When at the end of this drama whole
The pain surfaced bubbling on all the petals,
And entered into the eternal wedlock
With my fallible being.

Copyright Wani Nazir
..........................

Analysis by Tariq Ahmad Malik

Our poet of the day might be thinking that his poetry is finding virtually no takers.

I suppose we, the poetry lovers of the valley who give vent to our feelings in our native language, find it difficult to analyse english poetry using oriental measures.

While analysing kashmiri or urdu poetry we start with meter. We prefer poetry set to a particular meter.

Next,  we look for how lucidly the poet has used the figurative language. We surprise our readers by helping him Visualise the connotations underling our content. For doing this we use the simplest possible diction.

We, the poets of kashmiri language want that our reader should enjoy reading us. We target his heart using  metaphors, similes, symbols, personifications, pun, etc that our reader already knows. We decline to lend him stress on his intellect.

Now reading this poem, to telk the truth,  was a painful experience for me. The theme is ambigues;  Connotations hard to make, and words alien to the readers eye.

If i am asked what i have understood the poem is about, i may put put my findings as follows...

The poet seems to be recollecting some happy moment when he had felt that the night, out of her fluidity, had gifted his beloved some drops of salty water to suffice for her tears. He has the belief that the bewitching eyes of hers have every reason to bloom rosy dreams in the otherwise dry soil of his heart. He does feel that his heart is now delicate enough to hold the petals of his dream intact.

The poet remembers how faint beams of moon keep kissing the bosom of the petals of his dream and make them ooze out dew drops as their cold shinng sweat.

The eyes of the beloved appear as a tumultious bay where the waves find momantum,  owing to the blinking of the dark black eye lids. The poet experiences the changing course of dreams during the dead of the night.

The poet, ultimately, remembers how petals, ultimately, lost their colour and met the decay the way all human being meet.

Thus the poet ends the poem with a sad tone.
The poem may find many interpretations, but for me it is "what the eye met and the heart felt"
Tariq Ahmad Malik
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Word of appreciation for
Raffiabad Adbimarkaz member

by Tariq Ahmad Tariq

It has been a nice experience to see many of our critics trying to decode a poem that was seeming woven in multiple threads. It gave a tough time to our friends to reach the message of the poem. The poetic devices were not easy to figure out and the summary statement for the poem was really a challage, for, the imagery that was surfacing on the nerves was quite deceiving.
I suppose the poem was demanding some indepth philosophical bent in the reader which we usually are not giving too much weightage to.
The poet deserves the compliments, for, his imiginative insight made us sway in the swarms of the emotions for hours together.
I am happy that because of this poem we were able to have a rainbow gathering around us.  We were never sure that we have good poets in English; so was our conception about the good readership of english literature. Thanks to the oppertunity we created yesterday in presenting a seemingly a budding poet from kashmir's saffron town. We could have never found the reviews about english literature,  had we not given it a chance. Thank God we have now a good bench strenght for atleast 3 language on this page. We expect that the members of this page will invariably help us stay together for the sake of language and literature.

Sincerely yours
Tariq Ahmad Tariq

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"Fake Is A Poet" by Ramoozi Bekhudi

Analysis by : Tariq Ahmad Malik

Behrampora Rafiabad.

[09/02 9:40 pm]

Fake is a poet

fake is all he lives

You should know something

before falling in love

with the poet

the fake poet

Love him enough

he shall still look for voids in his being

and sing songs of incompleteness

(songs of a world which he thinks

is beyond love)

as if nothing can bring him back to life

not even your most passionate kiss

your velvet  hands would try and fail

and still try and fail to pull him out of his

inertia of gloom.

show him your scars,

he will call it fate

make him your fate

he will mould, remould, kneed, throw

and bounce you as per his whims

like a baby does to his first handful of dough

Dont love him back, dont reciprocate

see him assemble suns and stars

at the sole of your feet, to warm your heart

to light up your eyes

he shall only talk of love

as if loving you is the only act of worship

and you are his demigod

he will conspire

conspire to yeild melody from flowers

and fragrance from your words

and will manipulate

all seasons to suit your moods

he shall compare the dust of your bylanes

with the sacred friday kohl of his eyes

he cant be owned

he isnt a whole

he is a consolidation

of many lives, dreams, emotions, nothingness

he doesnt belong to himself

he belongs to the process of consolidation

Fake is a poet

Fake is all he writes.

Rumuz E Bekhudi

~~~ahad e rafaqat theek hai lekin......

07-02-17

[09/02 9:41 pm] Tariq Ahmad Malik: I have tried to analyse this poem

[09/02 9:41 pm] Tariq Ahmad Malik: This poem apparently follows the rhythm of natural speech. The poet has used extended metaphor and explained 'a poet' being fake. The poet has lavishly used poetic techniques to prove her claim. The metanomy in the second line followed by the restatement towards the end of the stanza helps her make her point strong.

The poet has, next, tried to convey how self-centric the poet[the poet in the poem] is by presenting a contrast how he fails to accomodate somebody's love for him. He persists in his plaintive whimsies and denies to taste the nude life. The poet, next, dubbs him as a brute traitor who believes in manupulations. He makes flowers moan,  and those of words spread scent. By keeping depressed he spoils the sweetness of the seasons. The height of his ego is manifested when he keeps the dust and the coveted kohl in the same tray. The poet restates towards the end that 'the poet' ceases to belong himself, how come he own the world.

The poetess has drawn good conclusions. She describes one person who is a poet. The phrase 'a poet', means some one poet. May be she herself;. May be some poet she knows. She has made honest introspection how human differ in word and deed. Hers is a poem [satire], not a sermon. Her sponteanous overflow of emotions deserve our appalauses for her being original.

Long ago Coleridge braved to write his lines on the same topic -

Sir, i admit your general rule,

That every poet is a fool,

But you yourself may serve to show,

That every fool is not a poet.

Present generation of poets try hard to keep art and life poles apart. Respecting this rule,  the poetic piece needs to take us to wonderlands but need not necessarily allow us stay there. The poet and the poetry need not necessarily be the same. It can some times be a mirror image.

From a classroom teacher

Tariq Ahmad Malik

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Poem

THE BATH OF FLOOD
By: Mir Rooshan Khayal

Download this article in PDF format. Click here

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   Bewildering with every rain drop

The wick of the lamp in the dark

Still was disclosing that

Not only his things of retinue

Have been given to the Wind

But the ascending waters have

Crooked his ever erected head

Not only drenched his exalted home

But also his lofty estacy.

  He had chaned his knees

He was praying to God

Like the previous supplications

This was not an alloy

Not an alloy of businesses trick

And an act of pretence.

It was a cry of man in want

Reflecting the every glare of candour.

The water although was turbid

Had washed his self conciet .

The light from whip although foggy

Had enlightened him

And Vanished his folly.

..........................

Analysis by Tariq Ahmad Tariq

The poem has been planted in a sad tone.

The word bewildering exposes the scenario before hand.The poem doen't have any punctuation marks that creates different shades distint from one another.

"Bewildering" and "disclosing" are human traits given to the wick of lamp ,and thus personification immersed in visual imagery is magnified.

"Not only his things of retinue have been given to the wind"

The statement seems to be losely connected to the thread.Who is the invisible agent ,is not clear. The effect of wind is not created.

"Crooked his ever erected head"

Is forcibly made to connote that before these floods, the man would never demonstrate his humble nature.

I also fail to figure out the connotations of "to change ones knees".

"The water though was turbid has washed his self conciet" .Here the conjuction 'though' is not followed with a powerful contrast. Turbid water has utterly failed as a metaphor.

The poet has tried his level to create a telling effect with a resounding imagery of flood but he should have focused a little more on the word painting.

Over all good effort.

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Tariq Ahmad Tariq

When the poet and the reader meet, expect the re-definition of miracles. 

By: Tariq Ahmad Malik(The Reader). 

On ‘woman’s day 2017’ a literary page was abuzz with the posts favouring the woman folk. A female poet, in the meanwhile posted the following poem…. 

Poem. 

Your violence shall become

my poem some day..

my world knows 

only of love

there are many worlds 

to welcome soot
the bruises you gifted me -scatter fragrance
the chains you tied me in 

-are grape wines now
the loneliness you left me to

-is the doorsill to Kaaba
the tears you made me shed 

-suffice for a nightlong ablution
the graveyard where you buried my dreams

-has jasmines and irises and hyacinths blossomed all over
Your violence shall only become

my poem some day
Strange is my world, 

the world of mad-men where

the roses bloom 

-in barren lands

sunflowers crave for 

-a moonlight bath

peacocks dance in 

-snowstorms and nightingales sing 

-the songs of redemption
Your violence shall only become 

my poem some day
we are all but 

Parts of that Whole

equal parts, 

powerless parts, 

ephemeral parts

no part can exert 

violence on any other part
violence is forgetfulness 

-of being a part
love is being mindful

– of that supreme Whole
Your violence shall only become

my poem some day
don't fret my dear

come, lets swirl

here none shall make fun of our worn out selves.
~Rumuz

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While reading the poem, the readers gathered courage to ask the poet why has she painted the negative picture of men on the very day when men are busy adoring the role of woman in making the world a better place. Here  is what transpired. 

The Reader: The poem starts with the phrase

Your violence, a very harsh tone against man. Then as the narrative develops the man is dubbed as gifting the woman violence, bruises, chains, loneliness, tears, grave-yard etc

Then. conclusion  “strange is the world of mad-man”. 

Why doesn’t any female poet start the narrative right from “the fall of man”… may be she will have to consider the narration afresh.

What an irony! 

Men adore woman  every possible way. They celebrate the days in her name, make diverse efforts to empower her. They try to win her confidence. They tint her into Habba khatoon,  Arni maal, lalded, Parveen Shakir etc. They keep on swearing that woman-folk is beautiful; and beautiful is the way they walk on. 

When a women poet responds to man’s sentiments she deliberately chooses to downgrade the role of man and denies any sympathy for them. 

Let the men clap over this plight.
What is the say of the poet on this?

The female poet: Before responding to your query sir, I would really want to know your views regarding this poem of Sahir Ludhianvi and how do you see it .

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko

Mardon ne use bazaar diya

Jab dil chaaha masla-kuchla

Jab ji chaaha dhutkaar diya

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko
Tulti hai kahin dinaaron mein

Bikti hai kahin bazaaron mein

Nangi nachvaayi jaati hai

Ayyashon ke darbaaron mein

Yeh woh beizzat cheez hai jo

Bant jaati hai izzatdaaron mein

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko
Mardon ke liye har zulm ravaan

Aurat ke liye rona bhi khataa

Mardon ke liye laakhon sejein

Aurat ke liye bas ek chita

Mardon ke liye har aish ka haq

Aurat ke liye jeena bhi sazaa

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko
Jin hothon ne unko pyaar kiya

Un hothon ka vyopaar kiya

Jis kokh mein inka jism dhala

Us kokh ka kaarobaar kiya

Jis tan se uge kopal bankar

Us tan ko zaleel-o-khaar kiya

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko
Mardon ne banaayi jo rasme

Unko haq ka farmaan kaha

Aurat ke zinda jalne ko

Qurbaani aur balidaan kaha

Ismat ke badle roti di

Aur usko bhi ehsaan kaha

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko
Sansar ki har ek besharmi

Gurbat ki god mein palti hai

Chaklon hi mein aakar rukti hai

Faaqon se jo raah nikalti hai

Mardon ki hawas hai jo aksar

Aurat ke paap mein dhalti hai

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko
Aurat sansar ki kismet hai

Phir bhi taqdeer ki heti hai

Autaar-payambar janti hai

Phir bhi shaitan ki beti hai

Yeh woh badkismat maa hai jo

Beton ki sej pe leti hai

Aurat ne janam diya mardon ko

The Reader: 

Madam, It sounds good that you stand to resist. My words were not an attack to you. I simply invited the men-poets to have courage “to call a spade a spade”. You are a promising poet. You know I joined this page the time when your poem “Fake is a poet” was sent to me for analysis. I did, not only, analyse it my way but did also add it in my blog to let it live its full life. 

To my humble understanding, Sahir Ludhyanivi’s poem reflects the plight of the woman who had denied to accept the bridle of religion in her jaws. By then the prostitutes did mostly belong to Muslim community. “Amrav Jan Ada” reflects the narrative more vividly. 

Why shouldn’t we start from the time when our beloved prophet(SAW), cut the chains of slavery for women. Why shouldn’t we recall the time when “Ama Aashia” was made the Mufti Azam of the Ummah. Our eyes see what our mind allows them to see. 

Hope you understand.

The Female poet: I was expecting your comments on Sahirs poem which also starts with “Mardon ne usse bazaar diya”.
Anyways. Certain humble submissions:

Women are perhaps more in need of special and discrete spaces where they are heard rather than any particular day where they are ‘celebrated’. Observing Hangul day doesnt save it from becoming endangered 
Poetry helps one to overcome a certain degree of powerlessness, now if even that medium of expression is strangulated, that is what results in “literary terrorism”.
Unfortunately you have missed the grand narrative of “violence” in the poem. Its perhaps a result of hasty reading, unnecessary insecurity, preconceived notions about poetry from a certain gender or lack of comprehension. Why do I say lack of comprehension because nowhere in the poem the word “man” is used. U recklessly attributed violence to “man” . If you analyse the poem again, you would know that its about a common response from the weaker to the stronger. Its a response against violence-of all sorts.
Please don't make a man vs women thing.

The Reader: My first submission is,  let we have work done with good humor. 

My prick dripped its way into a healthy discussion. Let it be not wasted in mere arguments. 

You are absolutely right in saying it is not man v/s woman. 

I agree. But the readers will not always read according to the perspective of the poet. Readers have their own perspective. Your words become poetry when you allow them to have a safe “transition from denotations to connotations”. As a reader i made the poem go my way. 

If Sahir, a great poet, gathers the courage to count the high handedness of men on women;. why can’t a woman poet take the thread from him and come with the narrations of women’s cruelty,  if any.. 

The Female poet: The text is absolutely out of my hand and I would happily accept all the criticism made on what has been done rather than what ought to be done. We should analyse an artist’s piece of art, in the form it has been brought forward rather than how should it have been done. If its so, then the critic himself tries to be a creator. 
What you expect women poets to do is a collective responsibility which falls on everyone’s shoulders if at all its really required. I am really intrigued about that “idea whose time has come”. 
If I may have read it right, your resentment was to the fact that I didn't post a “thank you poem” for people celebrating a day I don't believe in, calling women and her ways beautiful which is absolute objectification to me, empowering women -when I  see her narratives being tweaked in all social and so called literary circles, tinting her as Habba and Parveen but not expecting the similar thematic responses from her. 
In my opinion the time is ripe when we respect and celebrate womanhood exactly for the same reasons we celebrate manhood, childhood or old age. Simply for her being a human being, a representative of mankind. 
Please spare my poor selection of words which may not convey what exactly I intend to. As you said the intention is learning rather than bringing one another down. 

Peace.

The Reader: Suggestion granted, Since ages people have been calling the yes-men good for nothing. But you have words to inspire and courage to resist, it sounds great. 

I believe you will, one day,  dub these moments very inspiring when you will recollect to yourself how one day you faced a seemingly merciless reader. I believe you will one day earn a good name as a poet;but what about the reader like me who has never been a poet but a promising reader for good poets. I am humble enough to praise every good effort;. let the poets choose whether to give any credit to the readers who help them maintain high standards. 

Peace! 

Thankzzz

Finally peace process could be spelled out by the joint efforts of the poet and the reader. 

Conclusion: 

When the poet and the reader collide, expect the re-definition of miracles. 

…………………………………………………………………..

Tariq Ahmad Malik

behrampora raffiabad

MONDAY, 13 JUNE 2016

Pleasures of Reading

By: Tariq Ahmad Malik
Books are the most wonderful of all the inventions of man.with out them all human wisdom would have lost. But for them man would have no sense of history, and he would have to pursue every goal by starting from nothingness. Thank God, This is mere an assumption.
Books lend us indomitable mind power. They bestow us with a renewed
imagination .They impart us knowledge, and by investing our time in knowledge we are fetched the best interest. Book reading makes human mind peaceful, and a peaceful mind generates power. Books , when read with zeal and zest, make a man ‘man of value’ .Such a life lasts and denies the death. Books guide us how to fish, and feed us through out the life. Books shape our mental culture. Books are some times discredited as immoral. Such books do, actually show the world its shame.
Among all hobbies ,book reading is the wisest choice. The wise use of leisure time is, by now, a million dollar problem. Most of the humans descend to kill this precious time. Killing time, according to philosophers, is not a murder, but a suicide. Reading habits can save us from committing this crime.
Some times, when we claim that reading imparts pleasure, the question arises what psychological phenomenon can be termed as pleasure. Does pleasure connote the satisfaction of certain desire? Yes. We are endowed with many means to satisfy our cardinal and spiritual desires, and time is one among them. If time is termed as- [a] prime time and [b]leisure time. The prime time has to be used to earn living while as the leisure for pursuing hobbies. Reading in this respect is a mega leisure choice.
Reading always works wonder. It helps us make intelligent use of leisure. It helps us grow our talent. It extends us a vision and help us do the impossible.
Reading makes us abreast of worldly affairs and there of various challenges the world
faces. Reading works towards making us full men. By marshaling upon the handy information of books, we can make a smooth go on the path of innovation.
Reading shapes our opinion, and saves us from aimless running on wrong roads. It makes us aim specific, single minded, and dedicated .Reading makes us grow optimistic. It helps us see from the lock ups of stress and strain only stars rather than mud.It is said that prejudice is the child of ignorance. A well-read person is, then, washed off of prejudice and bias. In most cases the people who hold books dear have least time to worry. Thus reading substitutes work for worry.
Reading brushes up our memory. It helps us cash in on the experiences of the men who have make a mark in their lives.Reading paves us for finding their feet on the sands of time.
Specific reading determines our ambition. There are books related to every faculty which have currency in the practical world. Man only needs to choose them to excel his mettle. The news papers, economic journals, Science magazines, political journals, and magazines on poetry and literature etc make the reader up to date with the present day competition.
Reading imparts confidence. It makes us believe that even the great people had been beset with problems and challenges, and that they had fallen many a time, but their greatness could sustain by rising every time they fell. Books lend us the conviction that great things are done when men and mountains meet, they are not
done by jostling in street.
Reading is such an investment that has no diminishing returns, no market risks. It has high credit worthiness. All success stories unveil the fact that great achievers have essentially a good taste of reading. The I.A.S toppers, despite achieving their coveted goals often complain that they could not do justice with reading. They do dub it their
biggest mistake.
Time and again, it is proved that the people who are not used to reading are disqualified for living a worthwhile life. Their dreams of becoming titans are always chocked.
It is book reading which exposes us to the annals of our past glory. By reading the classicals, we learn how human civilizations have sustained the whirlpools of the natural calamities and political traumas, and reached the present day state of affairs. Books teach us to doubt, to inquire and then to discover the validity of the findings .this systematic approach has been the routine of all great thinkers. Books ,as selfless friends, make us carefree. They work for our betterment without asking for rewards. They only want us to attend them attentively, and with full meditation. Books never misguide us . they show us our shame in order that we correct our selves. They attune us with wisdom and enlightenment. They keep us far from the unconvincing temptations of madding crowds.
Books teach us to act with positive approach. they encourage us to be courageous. They keep our morale high.
Book reading enthuse us to grow our own height no matter how tall our grand parents had been.
Reading shapes our personality. It nurtures our wit. It carves of us quick witted orators who spellbound the listeners with their wedding bells. The well-read
people maintain the vivacity of language. They prove to the world that nothing in this world is as alive as a word.Their attitude with structuring the sentences , their idiomic style,their brevity,and their caressing of figures of speech make the language a sensation. Our attitude and aptitude towards reading ultimately determine our altitude in society.
To conclude ,it may be safely said that reading makes a full man ,conference a ready man, and writing an exact man. The profession of teachers, lawyers, judges etc will come to a stand still if they stop reading books. The students grow elite in the company of books only .It is only by dint of reading that Japan has grown their human capital to the sensational heights. To cut the story short we may conclude with saying that all of us can not become great, but all of us can attach our selves to something that is great. Why not that thing be reading when we have conviction that reading is a million dollar blessing.
By:Tariq Ahmad Malik
Rafiabad

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