Apple Town
O my Sopore1 ! my Sweet Sopore!
Narrow lanes of Hati shah2, bumpy roads of Muslim peer
Peaceful is your lap, O my Sopore !
Walking was so sweet on
the narrow lanes of Khush Haal matoo,
Sangrampora3, so was on Jamia qadeem,
Heart would sing and brain would enjoy
in your Samad talkies O my Sopore!
Mystic fragrance is in your Khaniqah4 so is in Ashpeer!
Great people have tread on your lanes O my Sopore
were you reflecting love of Shams Tabrez5 ,
oh my “Ahad BAB6” of Sopore ,
Were you playing Rumi7’s “Santoor8
“oh Raheem9 Saab of my Sopore,
Did Tagore10 revisit ,in your lore
oh “Vasdev Reh11” of my Sopore.
Did Sahir, rewrite his verses …oh “Gowhar12” of my Sopore
Your lap is peaceful, land is fertile,
O’ apple town of my Sopore.
You cradle the lake Wular13, the Asia s jewel and it’s breeze.
The air currents from your Jhelum14 are unique o my Sopore!
those play with the strings of my heart
and refresh my soul O’my Sopore
Alas! World never paid heed to you,
you were burnt, your sons killed
despite you kept your head high,
May God bless you O’ my Sopore!
“Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder.
Help someone’s soul heal.
Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”
– Moulana Rumi
Astronaut Calling!
“Billions were disbursed for my selfie on the moon
millions remain unclad, cover them!
and then send me on the moon!
Millions are starving, feed them
and then send me on the moon!
TB, malaria and dengue lynch millions help them
and then send me on the moon!
Insecurity, injustice and corruption dance everywhere:
fix all and then send me on the moon!
“Now that we have learned to fly in the air
like birds and dive in the sea like fish,
Only one thing remains – to learn to live
on earth like humans”
– George Bernard Shaw
When Floods Drowned Our Teaching Hospital
O “my SMHS1
Painful to see how floods2 disfigured your beauty.
Your wards have been full of wisdom and sense of duty
O’ my SMHS
pleasure was to tread on those lanes,
so was in those busy corridors.
the hustle and bustle of patients and too many attendants
Some carrying the files stamped with “Confidential “
and some with tiffin s struggling to enter.
O’ my SMHS
The saints visiting you presented the real medicine
And the wonderful professors taught us that medicine
O’ my SMHS
We learnt the mid diastolic murmur of mitral stenosis3
From your guests who could not afford the in time medicine.
the disease licked their joints and bit their heart
and in decades their disease progressed on!
Giving birth to that wonderful murmur,
That murmur we often used to time and discuss.
those saints then taught us the signs of left ventricular failure,
For their disease continued to lurk on.
O’ my SMHS
Those angels sleeping on your white beds mottled by rust
all of them used to be full of respect and blind trust.
O’ my SMHS
now you seem to be silent
We understand your silence
and we love your attitude.
Now is our turn to restore you
no stone will be left unturned to restore you
Excerpt from the Book Bumby Roads authored by Dr. Ibrahim Masoodi who graduated from Govt.Medical college Srinagar, Kashmir and completed his DM in Gastroenterology from PGI Chandigarh India . Apart from his work as a physician Dr Ibrahim has keen interest in literature. He can be mailed at ibrahimmasoodi@yahoo.co.in
