My ardas to the ghazal

The ghazal

At the university they said, “Oh you should study the ghazal”
Perfectly plucked you will understand the nuances of the ghazal

My grandfather told me stories that spread beyond words
Murdered during partition, the border bled the ghazal

I work in corporate communications – I sat with a grant for academics
I don’t know much about America, I just grew up with the ghazal

The world is changing as it spins around and across
Spun at its axis like cotton candy, my heart in a ghazal

The gray building beckons the death of emotion
“You’ll be fine, look now you have the ghazal”

My parents stopped loving and started living their scattered existence
Kahin zahir kahin chuppa dekha” sang Abida through the ghazal

Migrants across shores seek songs
Their displacements, disjointed like the ghazal

Integration is a strange word in transnational life
Souls intertwine without the need for passports – said this ghazal

He used to sing; now he writes
This man he is turning to rum and the ghazal

History and the past are two different things
Depends on how you look at the ghazal

What will happen to me mere khuda?
For the love of small things you will remain a Das to the ghazal