Love entangles life…
Its pain, held close,
Wears out all the lines of my verses;
They become weary in its embrace.
Nisar Banbhan, a seasoned poet and writer, based in Karachi, the capital city of Sindh shares his poetry
Hailing from Village Mir Muhammad Banbhan, Taluka Mirwah, District Khapurpur and based in Karachi, the capital of Sindh, Nisar Banbhan is a seasoned professional with nearly 25 years of multifaceted experience, encompassing 3 years in journalism and over two decades of service in a public sector organization. His extensive expertise spans content creation, scriptwriting, screenwriting, lyrics, poetry, and storytelling across multiple languages, including Sindhi, Urdu, and English. Nisar has honed his skills in writing articles, columns, and short stories, contributing to various national and regional media outlets. Additionally, he brings a deep understanding of program development, educational advocacy, and strategic planning, having led initiatives that promote quality education and foster community empowerment. His passion for literature and education merges seamlessly, enabling him to craft impactful narratives that resonate with diverse audiences while driving meaningful change in society.
There is No Receipt for Love!
Love entangles life…
Its pain, held close,
Wears out all the lines of my verses;
They become weary in its embrace.
And then the pages of life’s book turn black,
As wounds begin to sprout in the eyes,
From pages wrapped in the ink of agony,
A homeless hope rises…!
Those whose hearts are shattered,
Who mourn their wounds, seek a visa
To another’s heart, yet I am placed
On the exit control list,
To write down everyone else’s sorrow!
To bear the pain of all wounds,
There’s no passageway granted to me!
When the limbs of my written words emerge,
Their heads are severed… I dwell in such a land!
The corpses of my beheaded verses
Are tossed at the intersection of closed minds,
While egos applaud, applauding the killer’s skill,
Who will bury the corpses of emotions?
The pain of this pregnant question
Is rising and raw!
Egos are mere spectators, and love
Is still busy rehearsing its role!
For which, no receipt has been found in life…
Because love has no receipt!
It only carries the pain of the sea!
***
The Internet is Very Slow Today
My internet is running very slow,
There’s just a single signal bar!
I need to send an email to the owner of this world;
I’ve written it all, just need to hit send!
In the alley behind my house,
A seventy-year-old man named Paramand.
Last night, all his chickens were stolen,
They were his livelihood, borrowed to start his work!
His old wife is also ill, hasn’t had her medicine for two weeks,
Though she was booked in feelings, no one has cared for her till now.
The only provider, the seventh member of the family,
While all his sons and daughters are happily at their homes,
He often says, lifting his dry eyes to everyone.
The house in front of mine belongs to Chacha Mushtaq;
He often used to bring water to the school and ring the bell for recess.
He passed away many years ago,
It feels like the entire alley has become empty!
Yesterday, a sparrow and a male bird had their wedding at his house;
Birds will come from afar—O owner, please don’t let it rain!
How will they manage so many guests,
Look at his pain!
Yes! The number from which you often get missed calls late at night,
That belongs to the widow,
Her calls don’t get attended;
She often mutters to me, “Is this the wrong number?”
She has a lot to tell you,
Plenty of complaints tied up in her torn dupatta.
If you get a moment, listen to her,
And if possible, take that dupatta with you!
There’s another house at the corner where a cobbler named Jairo;
His door is broken, and now he dreams of buying a motorcycle.
He seems stubborn, maybe he has a bet with his friends?
Stop him—remind him!
His daughter’s wedding is in three months;
He may have forgotten, remind him that he needs to gather a good dowry!
Fatah Muhammad’s eldest son
Has put an iPhone ringtone on his Huawei,
And says, “Isn’t it just an iPhone?”
Now it doesn’t charge; it might have burned out from the electric shock!
They say labor is God’s friend—
How many friends say this to you?
When will you understand the hardships of humans, O owner!?
Is there a moment you can share!?
Last night I sent a screenshot… you must have seen it; I saw two blue ticks.
It belongs to a friend of mine;
He says it’s becoming hard to feed the children with his salary now.
Should he commit suicide!?
He hasn’t paid the rent for months,
And the landlord humiliates him every day,
Saying that last Eid, a neighbor sent meat—
Just four pieces and four bones; that’s all he had,
The rest, they eat dry bread and milk tea.
He’s crazy, still alive—
For whose sake is he living!?
Okay, don’t do a video call on WhatsApp;
Due to the signals, the voice doesn’t come through properly;
It’s hard to hear anything clearly.
I have another neighbor whose daughter is doing an MBA;
He needs to pay the fifth-semester fee,
Where will that poor guy find it? He thinks and cries,
If only he could find a property dealer,
He would sell the land for his grave,
And he says he has nothing left now.
Should he stop his daughter’s education?
I need to send an email to the owner,
And I’ve written all this for him,
And I also need to ask why the tap water from my village is now bitter,
When will I get the sweet water?
But my internet is too slow; the email isn’t going through!
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