In My Own Words

24

zafarkhurshid — Thu, 29 Sep 2011 18:12:48 +0000

Twenty four years ago I was born,

I came in to this world,

My heart beat for the first time outside my mother's womb,

My lungs aflame with their first breaths…

I grew,

Sheltered by my mother's embrace,

And my father's shadow,

I lived…

And though my mortal form has not long walked the ground,

I have seen much in life,

Been enriched by many wonders,

And hardened by many harshnesses…

And in twenty four years,

I have learned an unexpected fact,

One spark of wisdom,

That some may never fully appreciate…

You may not believe at first,

Search for yourself,

Look to answer this riddle,

But ultimately you will accept this truth…

Nothing rhymes with Orange…

Don’t say I never wrote a Song about you

zafarkhurshid — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 20:27:03 +0000

Every night when I go to sleep
There’s one thought,
I my mind it creeps
Every time I close my eyes,
Its a picture of you,
That I spy

I miss you,
Tonite,
Oh what can I say,
I miss you,
With all my might

I miss you

I stare at a torn photograph,
And all I hear,
Is the sound of your laugh
My memories tear at the seams,
But its only you,
That’s in my dreams

I miss you,
Tonite,
Oh what can I say
Wanna kiss you,
Tonight,
Hold you every day

I miss you

Yes I miss you,
Every night, All I want is to say
Is I miss you,
All night,
And my only thought

Is I’ve missed you…
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OST To My Life – Part 1: Broken feat. Tynchy Stryder, McLean

zafarkhurshid — Fri, 20 May 2011 22:06:20 +0000

This is part one of a unending series – OST To My Life/My Life, 5 Minutes at a Time. This is a fictional piece. Similarities to persons living and dead are purely coincidental.

Part 1 – Broken feat. Tynchy Stryder, McLean

Laying there in the cold dark room he realized one thing – He couldn’t be one of those guys. Hell! The evening had been proof of this fact beyond most doubt. He was a free agent, and the company he chose to keep that particular night was more than supportive of any game he wanted to pursue. Yet, as he saw her face, and heard her laugh, his determination to “let loose” grew dimmer and he found himself playing an all together familiar role.

As he lit her cigarette she told him that he was “a nice guy” and that his presence there was “rare” for the evening. Though in retrospect that was a hollow victory, since 10 minutes later she left with one of his friend’s “bollywood” colleagues, his arm wrapped particularly tight around her waist. I suppose it stung particularly worse because this was the first time he had actually met a cute girl his age at one of these gatherings. And mere hours later she was gone forever.

His friend didn’t have her number. Courage mustered and wasted. As he drove home he kicked himself (Mentally of course. I mean have you ever tried to drive AND kick yourself at the same time? I haven’t. I imagine it would be a considerably athletic feat, and he was definitely not flexible enough to pull something like that off) He lay there listening to his special playlist (designed for just such evenings) for a while before he drifted into slumber. The last thought to cross his mind… Maybe things will look a little brighter in the morning…
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2003

zafarkhurshid — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 21:16:45 +0000

This is a Knife,
This is a Palm
This is a burn,
Gone is the balm

This is a wound,
Raw as can be
This is a smile,
In Two Thousand Three

This is her face,
And his, his, and hers
This is them smiling,
Smiling like curs

I can’t let go,
The hatred too strong
I cannot stop,
Inspiration has waited too long

Someone need comment,
Oh comment I beg
I am barely awake,
So desperately I beg

I can’t take no more,
No Caulfied am I,
To gin a body catch a body
Comin’ through the rye

Someone please stop
The madness that does abound

Does no one know, How to end this tragic monolue bound?
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Aicha

zafarkhurshid — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 20:54:34 +0000

So soft spoken
Though you always had dad’s ear
So beautiful
Though every brother would sneer

So kind
Though we never did find
So always Always on my mind

I love you beyond words
And every day
I wish you were here
Those words to hear me say

Aicha,
I love you always
Every year,
This day my heart breaks

No one knows
They never will see
Aicha every day
This pain I feel

Aicha
Aicha
Passing me by…
Aicha
Aicha…
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Coward of the County

zafarkhurshid — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 20:43:36 +0000

A coward, A coward
A coward is he?
Who so in pain Doth not the silent killer seek?

Is valiant, so valiant
This Knight you speak?
So mirrored by all,
In Admiration is he?

So forgotten not gotten, So left aside is he?
Who so desperately,
Sought some comfort did he…

Some pillow or shoulder,
Or arm did he seek,
That in the cold did his hand,
In the fog blindly wish to meet

Some friendly face
Or smile did assure,
He is not yet redundant
Though this new one did soar

Oh so blindly,
And emptily did he pray
And if they ask did tomorrow,
Nothing shall he say…

She is gone so is he,
And they have no more
Sides have been chosen,
And they Have No More
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The Unwritten Chapter (Lazarus Continued)

zafarkhurshid — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 09:44:45 +0000

She is the unwritten chapter,
The blank pages of the book
Staring back at me,
With a great promise of a future old and yellow and wrinkled
The story of great romance,
Hidden in its plain bosom

The back pages are stained,
With the memories and battle scars of the past
Rushing blue like the rushing waters of a river of dreams,
Ebbing red like blood let drop by drop
Running through the tome,
Like a tapestry of pathos and ethos

Each day the words come more into focus,
Closer to being etched unto antiquity
Chronicling warmth and clarity,
And the evolution of a human soul
Preserved as a foundation,
Upon which new chapters may yet be built

She is the unwritten chapter,
The untold story
Nor oracle nor providence can yet contemplate,
The wonders or hurdles that lie ahead
For she is the unwritten chapter,
Still forming in my head

Lazarus

zafarkhurshid — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 09:44:10 +0000

A young boy scours a crowd of faces with eager anticipation,
Awaiting the bright smile of a childhood crush
Sharing stolen moments,
And a lack of apprehension
She was the one that opened the lock,
And let the flood gates start
The one that came first,
And for long haunted his heart

A teenager exploring,
Finds new meaning in the closest of friends
Apprehensive of his limits,
And frightened by where possibility ends
He discovers new things in the world,
And many too in himself
He leaves behind a rocky path,
And many lessons unlearned on the shelf

A young man looking to find himself,
Losing his heart in the most random of meetings
Doomed by his immaturity,
And plagued by his fantasy of eros fleeting
In the right place,
At the wrong time
He played the clown,
But turned into a mime

A momentarily serendipitous mating of souls,
In a passion that burns him hot
Covered in the ash that remains,
His heart fused like wrought
Blackened and villainised,
A fall from grace
Surrounded by chiding reminders,
Of his “rightful” place

A man sitting on a bench,
Staring ahead at a path unseen
Feeling the inviting breeze,
From a yet undiscovered scene
Content in his present,
Ever mindful of his past
He knows not how much longer,
This great weather will last

But he remains there yet,
Not begrudging a soul
Not the rocky crag that led him here,
Not the valley that burnt his soles
There was but one path to take,
That could lead him to this place
Where he stops and stares a while,
At the beauty of her face

Lazarus

zafarkhurshid — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 13:19:44 +0000

Raising Decibel Levels: The YP Foundation’s First Ever Fundraiser Concert!

zafarkhurshid — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 07:05:26 +0000

Raising Decibel Levels: The YP Foundation’s First Ever Fundraiser Concert!

The YP Foundation in New Delhi has, for the last 7 years, supported 5,000 young people directly; setting up over 200 projects in India, reaching out to over 3,00,000 youth in Delhi and to numerous youth across the country. Pilot projects have run from Mumbai, Pune and Chhattisgarh and we partner with a number of youth led organizations in Asia and the Pacific, as well as internationally. Now, we need your support!

On December 10, 2009, at the Ashoka Hotel Amphitheatre, we are hosting our first ever fundraiser, featuring British Folk Sensations Laura Marling (www.lauramarling.com) and Mumford and Sons (www.mumfordandsons.com), with East India Company’s Papon Angaraag Mahanta (www.papon.co.in). The concert will raise funds to support 6 of our projects, fuelling 42 workshops with 1000 young people participating, at 40 locations across the city, for the next 6 months. Date: 10th December, 2009 Time: 7:00 pm – 10:00 pm Venue: Amphitheatre, The Ashoka Hotel, B 50, Chanakyapuri, New Delhi Tickets are only Rs 200/- First Come First Served! Call us for details/Block your passes now:

Angarika Guha: 9910337160

Blog: http://theyouthparliament.blogspot.com
Email: theypfoundation@gmail.com

Our Partners:
Rosmerta Technologies Ltd
Sareen Estates Ltd.

Power Grid Corporation of India Limited

Venue Partners:
The Ashoka Hotel

Media Partners:
Hit95
Rolling Stone Magazine

Posted via web from Zafar Khurshid