The Final Slumber 13-10-25

The Final Slumber

Mirza.A. Beg

October 20, 2013

Spring would come looking, who knows where will I be

Seasons would come and go in cycles, but without me

The world will go on; traversing the old paths anew, with

New hopes, new dreams, new stories and new songs

Love would stir young hearts to rekindle old melodies

Their passionate zest would renew the world to be

Time will race on from generation to new generation

Tiered and spent, I sleep and dream of elusive eternity

Mirza A. Beg may be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com.

His essays and poems are on my blog  http://mirzasmusings.blogspot.com/

Eartquake in Haiti 10-01-13

Earthquake in Haiti
Some Thoughts

Mirza A. Beg
Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Earthquake in Haiti
Tens of thousands dead
Perished without warning
Silencing thoughts and feeling
Mourned by dazed family and friends

Another human calamity
As in disasters before
Earthquakes and Tsunamis
Volcanoes and typhoons
In times and places before

A wrath of God, fury of nature
Or simply an occurrence
Powerful and amazing
As Galaxies colliding
Indifferent to humanity

An event predetermined in time
Propelled by the laws of nature
With no malice or blame
Ants crushed by a bulldozer
Insects under passing feet

Geologic plates moving, colliding
Directions determined eons ago
By forces of cosmic creation
Unconcerned by our feelings
Humbling the arrogant humanity

Inadvertently the Nature tests
Our own nature and values
Some condemn the victims
For inviting the wrath of God
Some don’t even notice and go on

But many find morality in piety
Helping the injured and destitute
Giving meaning to our lives
Compassion for fellow beings
Scripts the nobility of being

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com or http://mirzasmusings.blogspot.com/

In search of Jesus 2009-10-15

In search of Jesus

Mirza A. Beg
Written Oct 15, 2009

Voices in Wartime, October 27, 2009

This poem, allegorically laments the misuse of the name and the message of Jesus. With a few changed words and syntax it would be valid for any religion.
The age of Information is entwined with the age of misinformation. Thoughtful understanding requires hard work; propaganda only needs bumper stickers. Religious zealots from all sides symbiotically feed on propagandized fear. The internal struggle is between the heart of each religion serving with humility and the strong arm seeking supremacy through misconstrued words.

The paradox is – in all religions; those who claim universality of their brand of religion behave as exclusivist tribal supremacist and those who introspectively value personal responsibility enhance universal amity.


Son of Mary
Celebrated is your name
Your Hellenized name
Jesus!

You are a messenger
A pristine idea to a few
A God to some
And the Son of God

You are a friend to some
A seer of wisdom
A promise of justice
And salvation

A hope for tomorrow
A redeemer to fallen
A beacon to lost souls
A promise of peace

Some shout your name
From lavish pulpits
Peddling salvation
From fire and damnation

They amass power
To usher your kingdom
At the point of the sword
Or atom tipped bombs

While others
Walk a lonely road
Quietly, humbly
Serving the needy

They love their neighbors
Humbly serve the meek
The sick, the injured
And the bombed

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted at, mab64@yahoo.com, or http://mirzasmusings.blogspot.com/

An ode to spring 08-04-10

An ode to spring

Mirza A. Beg

April 10, 2008

Spring is a time for renewal, particularly in the northern latitudes. After a long cold dormant winter, the Earth slowly reawakens. Sprigs of grass shoot up to provide fodder to the enfeebled starved animals. Amorous flowers bloom to fertilize and give birth to fruits, to form new seeds for the next generation. Most species of animals give birth to their young to feast on the bounties of spring. In effect mother Earth, Gaia, awakens from hibernation to cuddle and nurture her children.

In the tropics and further south the summers are very hot and dry. Rainy season followed by mild winter are the time for planting cereal and vegetable crops that are harvested, during a short fall season, followed by a short spring and a long hot dry summer. Spring is a happy season when mother Earth, “Dharti” (in Hindi), provides replenishment of empty granaries to survive the hot dry season.

That is why in most ancient cultures New Year starts in spring. Odes in celebration of spring have been written in almost every language. The following poem is my rendition of a very popular Bengali Song, an ode to spring, an ode to New Year, an ode to life.

May the Joy of Spring Infect You

Mirza A. Beg

All Bangala homes are filled with rhythms of spring
Every Bangala soul sways intoxicated with melody

Sorrows of the old year surrender to a bright new dawn
Gift baskets, offerings brimming with melody of songs

Horizon is afire with blossoms of Shimul and Polash
It is Boishakh, Spring of the New Year beckons

Musings of Mirza A. Beg can be read on http://mirzasmusings.blogspot.com/
Contact Mirza at mab64@yahoo.com

Midnight Thoughts 08-04-03

Elusive thoughts at Midnight

Mirza A. Beg
April 3rd, 2008

Middle of the night
Is never perfectly dark
The restful dark
Of deep slumber

Stray eerie light seeps in
From the streets of the
Smoldering day, from the
Tormented world beyond

Eyelids quiver with twilight
Of wakeful concerns of the day,
Of wars, real and imagined
Of inhumanity and lost friends

Inducing an amorphous ache
From myriad hazy sources
Flooding the heart and mind
And engulfing the soul

With countless Images
Of tortured bodies
Of hungry faces
Of loss and injustice

Of slings and arrows
Of lost opportunities
Of what could have been
Should have been, but is not

In the name of
Egotistic power
Misbegotten ideology
And misused religion

In the deathly stillness
Of a body, dormant
The restless mind soars
To resonate with the spirit

Inspiring visions
Of possibilities of peace
Just and humane
Clear and concise

To capture lost opportunities
Transcending arrogance and pride
To mend the frayed fabric
And make shattered souls, whole

Slowly the sleep returns
To cloud the vision
Clarity dissolves in a mist
Leaving only a few kernels

Morning is melancholy
I stare at a blank page
Failing to capture that
Fleeting flawless vision

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com
His Essays and Poems are available at http://mirzasmusings.blogspot.com/

Courage - Poem 06-04-07

Courage

Mirza A. Beg

Written, Friday, April 7, 2006
Voices in War time May 29 2006
http://voicesinwartime.org/Home/Article/DisplayArticle.aspx?AuthorID=106932&TypeofContent=Article&ArticleType=1#369685

Dropping bombs from 15,000 feet,
dodging anti-aircraft fire.
Raining death and destruction,
on the faceless enemy is courage.

To save a comrade by killing
an enemy, trying to save his comrade.
Silencing the courage of a scoundrel,
who was a hero to his side.

Or, when friends and neighbors
scream kill, kill in frenzied unison,
courage is to stand firm and say “NO”.
A lone voice piercing that din!

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com http://mirzasmusings.blogspot.com/

Memories 06-04-07

In Memories we live

An elegy for Ute Winston

Mirza A. Beg

Written, Friday, April 7, 2006
Al Jazeerah April 2006

We meet, we greet, we part,
but leave a part of us,
imbedded in the memories of friends.
Images, some hazy and amorphous,
some sharp and crystal clear.
With time they dissolve.
Slowly, one by one.
Bit by bit they fade
and cease to exist,
when all the memories are gone.

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com

A Dream 05-01-06

A Dream

Mirza A. Beg
Thursday, January 6, 2005

Poetry.com April 2005

Head nestled in a soft pillow.
Tired heavy eyelids,
slip into a blissful sleep.
Fleeting moments link up
to form a timeless bliss.

Wakeful laws in suspension.
Real is, what was not.
Stark colors defy depiction.
Images, in slow motion,
fuse to what cannot be.

Gravity abandons its pull.
The Earth meets the Sky.
Horizon is, where I am.
Friends, long gone, converse
in feelings, and perceptions.

Imperceptibly, perhaps suddenly,
awareness of being emerges.
Astride the two worlds for a while,
I try holding on to what is not,
a little longer, to elude, what is.

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com

Destr.-Iraqi Museum 05-02-16

Destruction of Iraqi Museum and Library

Mirza A. Beg
Written. Wednesday, February 16th, 2005

Al Jazeerah, Saturday, February 19th 2005

Left Hook, Sunday, February 20, 2005
http://www.lefthook.org/Culture/Beg022005.html

Vices in War Time, Friday, March 11, 2005
http://www.voicesinwartime.org/VoicesInWartime/Article/DisplayArticle.aspx?AuthorID=106932&TypeofContent=Article&ArticleType=1


Those, who care, have been ashamed of the way the Baghdad Museum was looted under the very nose of the US forces. The museum director pleaded for help, but the soldiers had no orders, so they could not help. Before the start of the war, Archaeologists in the US had requested the Bush administration and presented a list to the Pentagon, to protect the museums and antiquities in Iraq, only to be ignored. Yesterday, I saw a photographic exhibit, "Faces of Iraq." The thoughts, I had for the last two years, jelled into the following lines.


Dawn of the 21st Century, are we better!
Genetically, emotionally, culturally!
Six-thousand years of history,
Timeless places,
Places forgotten by time.
Say, No!

The past speaks in faint, halting voices,
Some reach out through the pages of history,
Some yet to be heard from.
People long gone,
Lived and loved, coveted and complained.
All - denizens of dust.

Ubadians and Sumerians, of six millennia ago,
Living - still, in broken cuneiform tablets.
Akkadians, Babylonians, Assyrians and Hittites,
Then came Chaldians, Persians and Arabs.
Conquerors, conquered former conquerors.
Civilizations fall to Barbarians, to rise again.

Lives, voices and treasures, preserved in silt.
Concealed by ageless guardians, Tigris and Euphrates.
Old at the bottom covered by the new, and yet newer.
Our common heritage, preserved in the sands of time.
Carefully, lovingly unearthed, by generations of Archaeologists.
Cradle of Civilization, sheltered in the Museum of Baghdad.

Mother of all codes, the code of Hammurabi,
The epics of Gilgamesh, Nebuchadnezzar and Haroon.
Story of humanity - Mesopotamia, history's loan to Iraq.
Even Saddam the tyrant did not dare,
But the barbarians from the 21st century,
In their ignorance, wrecked the salvaged past.

In the glimmer of modern buildings,
A child shops in a store named "Toys 'R' Us".
Some day the child would know,
6,000 years of human history,
Pillaged and looted in the summer of 2003,
The child may consider: Barbarians Are Us!

Mirza A. Beg may be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com

Eternity -Sufi view 05-03-12

Space, Time and Us, A Sufi View

Mirza A. Beg

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Al Jazeerah, Wednesday, March 23, 2005
http://www.aljazeerah.info/23%20o/Space,%20Time%20and%20Us,%20A%20Sufi%20View%20BY%20Mirza%20A.%20Beg.htm

Axis of Logic, Friday, March25, 2005
http://www.axisoflogic.com/artman/publish/article_16436.shtml


This started as an essay on Sufism, but got lost in the intertwined thoughts of "Fana and Baqua", sublimation in the ultimate reality. As a Sufi poet wrote, "If the Earth was converted to papers, the forests to pens and the oceans to ink, it would not suffice to write the attributes of the God". Some words from the elusive essay congealed as two poems, but would forever remain incomplete.


A Haiku

Space knows no bounds
Time unending - infinity to infinity
Live in the Ultimate Mind


A Poem
(Glossary at the end)

Galaxies, receding in space
Red shift, evincing an expanding Universe
One universe or many, or just fluttering "Branes"
Stretching the limits of language
Challenging the limits of mind
Space, eleven dimensions, or more, or none
Matter is energy, smaller than smallest vibrations,
Rhythms of enormous energy
From the Being of limitless mind
Of infinite dimensions

Time, will it end? Did it begin,
Fourteen billion years ago with a Big Bang
Or Branes bumping in cosmic ballet
On Earth, a mere 4.6 billion years
Perhaps an illusion, "Maya",
Relativity's snare through gravitons,
The curvature of space and time
Turning tomorrows into yesterdays
Forever it was, forever it will be
A Mobius strip in the Infinite Mind

Earth, our cradle in blue sheathing,
Light and warmth, a gift from the Sun
A speck in the vastness
History imprinted in rocks,
Era by era, separated by convulsions
From Azoic, the time before life
Through the intricacy of evolution
To us, with a consciousness of being,
With a longing for the ultimate love
And avarice for weapons of annihilation

Life span, a unit of time, from birth to death
Counted in years, days and seconds
Linear flow, imprisoned in perishable bodies
And expansive minds in transient brains
That cast an inward glance, eyes closed
Revealing timeless horizons, a universe within
Relationships, a dance of inner branes
Meeting and parting, in ecstasy or sorrow
Indelible secret memories, love and loss
Confined in personal, ephemeral universe


Eternity logs universes of mortal neurons
Of hubris, of wars of twisted religions
Pining for Armageddon,
Praying for evil, in hopes of elusive good
Hate begets hate, a vicious hell
But myriad deeds of kindness,
For the love of creation, by the created
Overcomes greed and hate,
Transcend the bounds of space and time,
To lead to the Infinite Mind, and endure.

Mirza A. Beg can be reached at mab64@yahoo.com

Glossary: Big Bang -The primeval explosion from nothing, the creation of the Universe.
Branes -A term coined for a sub-universe like ours. Many Branes make a universe.
Red shift -Light spectrum shifts to the red wavelengths, indicating increasing distance.
Mobius strip - A strip, twisted with joined ends, the top and bottom merge seamlessly.
Gravitons - A postulated particle, that is responsible for the force of gravity.
Azoic - A time before life on earth.

Poverty - Poem 05-11-01

Endemic poverty, a crime against humanity

Mirza A. Beg
Tuesday, November,1st 2005

Al-Jazeerah Web Magazine Tuesday, November 1, 2005
http://www.aljazeerah.info/1%20o/Endemic%20poverty,%20a%20crime%20against%20humanity,%20a%20poem,%20By%20Mirza%20A%20Beg.htm

Milli gazette, Wednesday November 30, 2005
http://www.milligazette.com/dailyupdate/2005/20051130-poverty.htm

Seasons greetings. Eid and Divali in early November followed by Thanksgiving, Hanukkah and Christmas in December. While we celebrate let us temper it with reflections on persistent poverty around the world, exacerbated by the poverty of spirit, hubris of wars and neglect. UNICEF warns that a lackadaisical response to the Kashmir Earthquake and onset of winter would add many more to the 80,000 dead amd millions suffering. The Bomb blasts in Delhi on the eve of Divali once again remind us of our inhumanity to our brethren. Fasting during Ramadan helps us experience to some extent the suffering from the deprivation that the poor suffer all through the year. I hope the following poem would help put poverty on perspective, economic justice is an integral part of equity and justice.

The festive season is upon us
Eid, Divali, Thanksgiving and Christmas
Days of rejoicing and celebrations
Of gifts, given and received, with anticipation
Opening neatly wrapped packages
Feasts of gastronomical delights
Warmth of hearth, home, friendships
And blissful sleep cushioned in comfort

The garbage is brimming with
Discarded wraps, uneaten food
Not all is waste, just refuse from plenty
Recycled to the poor scavengers
Populating the fringes of teeming cities
Thrown plastics, metals and clothing
Reclaimed by the dispossessed
Partly eaten food fills a hungry stomach

Awareness of hunger evokes pity
But being hungry brings empathy
For the crowded shantytowns
Living in the indignity of poverty
Receiving the gift of charity
Of food or perhaps some money
They in turn give a greater gift
The precious gift of an eased conscience

The meek shall inherit the earth, but not today
Wants trumped by dire daily needs
Vacant expressionless eyes
Stare from behind an invisible fence
They get charity, the immediate need
What they need is economic justice
To overcome the endemic poverty
A crime against humanity

Mirza A. Beg may be reached at mab64@yahoo.com

Elegy for Sayeed Beg 05-05-07

Elegy for a dear departed friend, Sayeed Beg

Mirza A. Beg

Written, Saturday May 7, 2005

Muslims Wake Up. Com. Tuesday May 10th2005

A. Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.comSayeed Beg and I became friends when the days were long, the nights were bright and time was not in a headlong rush. We met because he felt that I was new and alone in a new town and a new land and needed a friend. He was a gentle, caring and a thoughtful friend without any expectation of reciprocity. He and his new bride Hameeda adopted me as a valued family member, a brother to both of them.

It was autumn of 1969 at Knoxville in Tennessee. Hameeda was equally caring and lovely with a welcoming quiet presence.They lived in Oak Ridge about thirty miles from Knoxville. On weekends they would come take me to their apartment, feed me delicious home cooking and drive me back to Knoxville on Sunday afternoon, refreshed for the coming week. They did this for almost six months. His training at Oak Ridge came to an end and he moved to Garry Indiana, then Chicago and finally to Houston.

As always he immersed himself in the service of the community in Houston with a genteel grace. Helping others with no demand for himself was a second nature to him. In time he suffered from diabetes and eventually from congestive heart problems, but most people did not know it. He never complained or asked for any special consideration. Hameeda and Sayeed Beg are blessed with three wonderful children, two sons and a daughter. He sublimated into the eternity, as he wanted, without slowing down to worry about personal ailments. He fell ill in the evening of May 4th and was on his way to eternal bliss the next day.

The following lines are an inadequate effort at expressing my feelings for him. The concept and the first line are adapted from an elegy in Urdu by Faiz on the passing of his brother.

My dear departed friend, I can't help but protest.
You left us so suddenly, that was sad enough,
But in the process you quietly took with you
One of the most precious chapters of my past

It had lovely memories of long halcyon days,
with azure blue sky and nights full of hope.
When the world was young and hope eternal.
Two kindred souls, out to heal the future.

You did. You traveled, touched all you met.
You nudged others to find their better selves.
Set ideals worth aspiring, with an infectious smile.
You helped all, as if they were all your needs.

Though we did not talk or meet often enough,
But the thought that you exist was comforting
While leaving did you think of the pain to others.
Did you know you are leaving a void larger than life?
I know you are at a better and a more serene place
The place is certainly better because you are there
I know you could not have hurt us knowingly
I know you would come back only if you could.S

So long till we meet again across the divide.
Your friend - Mirza A. Beg

Silence - Poem 05-03-19

Silence
(Rhyming form)

Mirza A. Beg
Saturday, March 26, 2005

A decent person, I am; regrets, perhaps a few.
I love my family, and help my neighbors too.
I support my country, even in wars without sense.
I desist from protest, from me, only silence.

Depravity in Abu Ghraib, torture in offshore gulag,
Facilitated by my taxes, I pretend it was a gag.
I raise no banner, for the plight of the innocence,
In the name of the religion and humanity or conscience.

The ghosts of Faluja witness, helpless civilians,
Shot in cold blood, we loose face and credence.
Shear propaganda, I exclaim, I trust my President.
Ignorance is bliss, no tears from me and no comment.

My fears, defeat the sense of justice, in a Faustian bargain,
It is a revenge for 9/11, Iraqi or Afghan, are all the same.
Those, not with us are against us, I vote for vainglorious
I follow the leader, "stay the course", and join the chorus.

Yellow ribbons on my car, in memory of our troops in Iraq
I mourn 1500 of our dead, though a 100,000 died from Iraq,
And a million Iraqis are maimed; I do not want to hear.
Women and children too, it is a war and I don not care.

The second anniversary, of a war, rooted in deceit,
Lies filter through, too much blood, too late to defeat.
Too much is at stake, Bush says failure is not an option.
I find refuge in euphemisms; the truth is damnation.

I shun the negative news of war; lock it out of my life.
Yet, deep inside me, it stirs a pang; ignites a strife.
But, I do not raise my voice in indignant condemnation.
In support of my country, it is silenced, as prevention.

The voice persists; you are helping to kill the innocent.
But words forsake me, as I try to plead I am ignorant.
It started as an odd mix of timidity and impudence.
Two years of devastation, I ignore; I am guilty of silence.

Mirza A. Beg can be reached at mab64@yahoo.com

Silence - Poem 05-03-19

Silence

Mirza A. Beg
Saturday, March 19, 2005

A decent person, I am.
Regrets perhaps a few.
I love my family,
help my neighbors,
support my country,
even for wars of hubris,
in my name. No protest
from me, only silence.

Depravity in Abu Ghraib,
torture in offshore gulags,
facilitated by taxes from me.
I pretend it was a prank.
and raise no banner,
for the innocent,
in the name of religion
humanity or conscience.

Ghosts of Faluja witness,
wounded civilians,
shot in cold blood.
It haunt even the ghosts.
Propaganda, I exclaim.
Trust the President.
Ignorance is bliss.
No tears from me.

Fears, defeat justice.
In a Faustian bargain,
I vote the vainglorious,
to stay the course.
It is revenge for 9/11.
Iraqis, Afghans, Al Qaida,
are all the same. Those,
not with us are against us.

Yellow ribbons on my car,
in memory of our troops,
to mourn 1500 of our dead.
I don't want to hear,
a hundred thousand Iraqi dead
and a million maimed.
Women and children too!
It is war, I don't care.

Second anniversary,
of a war, rooted in deceit,
uncovered, drip by drip.
It is too late to protest,
too much is at stake,
failure is not an option.
I take refuge in lies,
truth is hurtful.

I shun the news of war,
lock it out of my life.
Yet, deep within me,
stirs a pang of shame,
but, I do not raise my voice
in condemnation.
In support of my country,
I have silenced it too.

The voice persists,
they kill innocents,
in your name.
I plead ignorance,
but find no words.
I know, I am guilty
of timidity, conformity,
but worst of all silence.

Mirza A. Beg can be reached at mab64@yahoo.com

Abel & Cain-Allegory 02-07-17

Abel and Cain, An Allegory for our time

Mirza A. Beg

Written, July 17, 2002
Birmingham News, Sunday July 28, 2002


Writing about human suffering caused by ethnic conflicts was on my mind, Kurds, Kosovo, Bosnia, Chechnya, Palestine, Kashmir, Northern Ireland, Southern Sudan, Sri Lanka, Rwanda and many others. The names and histories are different but the basic reason is the same. Some people in the name of “what ever” want what some other people have or deny to others what they have chosen to keep for themselves.

The demise of the colonialism in mid 20th century gave the hapless inheritors, a longed for breath of freedom to claim a place among the community of nation. But they lost their way in the avarice of want. The inspiring goals and slogans that saw them through the dark nights of occupation were caricatured into slogans for the persecution of minorities.

It does not matter what the differences are, they may be religion, race, language, color, creed, ethnicity, or any other contrived to suite the purpose.

With time the ideals gave way to propaganda, finding the drudgery of governance too difficult, the rulers and power-brokers looked for scapegoats and found them in the “other”, what ever the they chose the other to be, even if they had to invent one.

Socialism swept away the feudal Russia, but gave way to Stalinism. Republican China of Sun yat-sen morphed into Chiang Kai-shek and then Mao. In India, the avatars of a fascist ideology that assassinated Gandhi have finally succeeded Gandhi and Nehru. Jinnah’s vision is caricatured into an oppressive and broken Pakistan, a legacy of Bhutto and Zia. In Middle-East the rulers are exploiting the ruled and oppressing the minorities in the name of straight-jacketed Islam on one extreme and perverted secularism on the other.

Iraq is in a class by itself in its ignominy, secular Saddam will exploit anything he can.

But the conflict that defines the late 20th century and has overshadowed all other conflicts is the Israel – Palestine conflict. Where the dispossessed Jews from Christian Europe after deprivation and wandering for about 1,900 years returned to a land of their dreams, in the name of God, to dispossess an other people.

The metaphorical story that comes to mind is George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” where oppressed become oppressors. The Pigs lead a revolt against Mr. Jones the oppressive farmer and frame a motto that “Four legs good, two legs bad”. In time when the Pigs acquire decadent human attributes, they conspire to modify the motto to “Four legs good, two legs better”.

While musing, I received a collection of poems from Omair Ahmad a young friend from India. One of the poems is “Abel’s Lament”, based on a story of creation and conflict, common to Jewish, Christians and Muslim scriptures. It is truly a metaphor for all conflicts but is specially poignant and pertinent to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. It is a good rendition of Indo-Islamic Sufi style in English. With his consent, I am sharing it with you!

Abel’s Lament
Omair Ahmad
1998

Whom do I blame?
Tell me, whom do I blame, Brother Cain?
When a starving man
steals a crust of bread
from out of my hands,
whom do I blame?

Knowing, I am starving,
knowing, the crust of bread
is all I have!
Whom do I blame Brother Cain?
When a brother stabs a brother,
whom do I blame, brother Cain?

When God frowns
on your hoeing and sowing,
on your weeding and reaping,
on the harvest of your dreams,
whom do I blame?
Tell me, whom do I blame, Brother Cain?

Wealth of smiles on me,
denied to you, for eternity
whom do I blame?
Sharpening a knife,
Thinking, I see you not?
whom do I blame, brother Cain?

I lie here,
feeling life slip away,
scratching out these words
upon the blood-soaked sand,
Whom do I blame?
Tell me, whom do I blame, Brother Cain?

My back? The knife?
Your hand?
Whom do I blame, brother Cain,
for a fate
that leaves me dead
and you damned?

Mirza A. Beg can be contacted by email at mab64@yahoo.com

Lessons of History 06-10-30

Lessons from History,
Tranquil Ripples to Convulsive Tides

Mirza A. Beg
Written, October 30th 2006

Voices in wartime – Wednesday, November 1, 2006 http://voicesinwartime.org/Home/Article/DisplayArticle.aspx?AuthorID=106932&TypeofContent=Article&ArticleType=1#369781

Counter Currents. Org. Friday, November 3, 2006
http://countercurrents.org/arts-beg031106.htm

Al Jazeerah, Friday, November 3, 2006
http://www.aljazeerah.info/Opinion%20editorials/2006%20Opinion%20Editorials/November/3%20o/Lessons%20from%20History%20Tranquil%20Ripples%20to%20Convulsive%20Tides,%20a%20Poem,%20By%20Mirza%20A.%20Beg.htm

The American Muslim (TAM), Tuesday, November 7, 2006
http://theamericanmuslim.org/tam.php/features/articles/poetry_lessons_from_history_tranquil_ripples_to_convulsive_tides/0011504


If the purpose of the war in Iraq was just to remove Saddam Hussain. The war was won in May 2003. But the selling slogans of the war were the WMDs and Al-Qaida connections in Iraq. They were proven to be false two years ago. Bringing democracy to Iraqis has also proven to be a farce. The administration has been winning election through fear mongering promising success in six to twelve month for the last three year s. The lies sold to us have come to haunt not only the perpetrators, but the whole country.

There are lessons from history for the arrogance of power that prohibits from accepting mistakes. It leads to an insidious march of folly towards a precipice of self imposed destiny. The following poem is a sort of "essay" on lessons of history. Will we learn?

The lessons of History

Perhaps history channels through 'Karma'
Yesterday's sorrows haunt our tomorrows
Every breath starts a ripple
In the fabric of space and time
Countless little ripples
In quiet repose attenuate
To form tranquil pools of harmony
But in cumulative seething anger of injustice
They build colossal waves to wash away
The burden of mighty Empires
In violent convulsions

June 28 of 1914, was a fateful day
An unknown Serbian, blinded by nationalism
Chauvinistically claimed Bosnia for Serbia,
Shot the visiting Archduke Ferdinand
Heir to the Austrian Empire, in Sarajevo
The shot reverberated to convulse Europe

In arrogance, Austria threatened Serbia
Russia , in Slavic unity threatened Austria
In pride, Germany threatened Russia
Britain and France allies of Russia mobilized
Conceited, 'civilized' denizens of Europe
Fell to propaganda, a delusional phrase,
"A war to end all wars". As cannon fodders,
They lined up to fall over the precipice
In an absurd march of folly

Imperial tyrannies spawn myriad ripples
To raise colossal tides of history
To crush formidable empires
Humbled arrogant Austria and Germany
And washed away the pompous rulers
Of shaky Russian and Turkish Empires

Lessons unheeded, keep on haunting
From generation to generation,
Thus came a greater World conflagration
To dismember Germany and incinerate Japan
In unimagined puffs of nuclear inferno
Mighty winners came up paupers too
British and the French shorn of empires
Confined to their national boundaries
Falling from grandeur of centuries past

New powers, Americans and the Soviets
Grappled to carve the world in bipolar halves
In proxy wars, destroying every innocence
Trampling the globe in a dance of death
The Korean, mid-East and the Vietnam Wars
Inflicting tyrants in the name of democracy
Selling arms, to those with no food
Sowing hunger, trampling hopes and dreams
Of unsuspecting millions in the web of lies

Then came the 'generous' Soviet invasion
Of Afghanistan, a graveyard of past empires
Pillaging and, slaughtering the proletariat
To liberate them, to enjoy the Soviet tyranny
The tortured sigh of the suffering Afghans
Crashed through to implode the Soviet Empire

In a cycle of 'Karma', oblivious of history
Blinkered citizens of the sole "Hyper-power"
Caught between arrogance of power and fear of 9/11
Succumb to an ignoramus bully at the cusp of history,
A fascistic slogan, "Those not with us are against us"
Concocted lies, for wars to create more wars
Maligning freedom, democracy and religion
To "Stay the course" to death and destruction
In validation of every evil in the name of good

Revenge for 3,000 American dead justifies killing
Hundreds of thousands and maiming millions in Iraq
Should the innocent dead Iraqis, be avenged?
Will the millions of ripples unite in a fateful tide?
To wash away the good that wrought so much evil?
Or will we learn, repent and avert the looming tide?

Mirza A. Beg can be reached at mab64@yahoo.com

Audacity to Speak 07-04-10

Audacity to speak

Mirza A. Beg
April 10, 2007

During the long night of colonialism, Urdu poets gave voice and sustenance to the freedom struggle of India. In the Urdu cadence, this poem is dedicated to all yearning to be free.

Power amuck, demands conformity
“Those not with us, are against us”
Intolerance shrouded in naiveté
Repression cloaked in democracy


Will the meek inherit the Earth?
Not here, not today
Silence soaked in subtle conformity,
Sustains ignorance and tyranny


The impudent power to kill withers
Faced with defiant courage, to speak
Executioner's tired arms tremble
Scared of brave heads on the block


The struggle to breathe free,
Arduous, tenacious and eternal
Ordeal, bearable adorned with hope
Of the bliss of a distant morning


When the plunderers stand exposed
Their power swept away
Failing to imprison the fragrance
Failing to muffle the Song-bird

Mirza A Beg can be contacted at mab64@yahoo.com