The Way Out

Painting my face may help.

Strong lines of white,

yellow and red.

My body a deep purple.

He likes me scrubbed clean.

Every tiny morsel.


I could wear

a feather head dress.

Tomahawk in hand,

dance the Voodoo.

Throw some magic.

Bring the rain.

Pierce his heart.

Blood may taste fine.


They say a bear

licks a man’s feet

and kills him with laughter.

I could become a bear.


(C) ABHA IYENGAR, First publsihed in Up the Staircase, Issue 10, August 2010

At Your Grave

[a translation of Nida fazli's Urdu nazm]



I did not come to read
the fateha at your grave.
I knew you cannot die.

He who spread the word of your death
is a liar.

It was never you
but a dry leaf fallen with the wind.

My eyes
are still trapped in your landscapes.
Whatever I see or perceive is
Only the world of your deeds and misdeeds.

Nothing has changed.

Your hands breathe in my fingers,
as I hold my paper and pen to write.

I find you sitting in my chair.
Your failures and trippings run the blood in my body.

Your mind lies hidden within my voice.
In my illnesses there is you.
In my helplessness there is you.

The one who engraved your name on your grave
is a liar.
In your grave there,
I lie dead.

You are alive in me!
You are alive!

Whenever you have some free time,
walk in to read the fateha on my grave.

****
fateha - quranic verses , read at the grave by relatives and friends for the benefit of the dead.

This nazm by Nida Fasli translated into English by Mohammad Ahsaan / Abha Iyengar, 19th April 2009.