Poetry Recital At Oxford University ISOC, 2015
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Interview with MuslimView’s Masud Ahmed Khan
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The Walls- Short Story
Adam and Hira had just turned twenty, when they realised, they were in prison. Now they could see four monumental walls topped with barbed wire to the north, south, east and west. Now they could make out the prison officer uniforms on men and women they had not noticed before. Now they could see other prisoners around them, looking and behaving much like themselves. Fear and anguish grew chains around their hands and ankles; the couple struggled to move as the realisation took hold of them; their breaths quickened and sweat trickled on their heads. How on earth did they not realise this before? Why were they prisoners? What had they done wrong? As far as they knew, they had lived an average life in an average town, following the law of the land, most of the time, and keeping out of trouble. Yet now they found themselves languishing behind towering walls and barbed wire.
Continue readingIf You Dream Of The Valleys Of Kashmir
(CHORUS)
Allah Allah
Laa ilaha illallah (*3)
Allah
If you dream of the valleys of Kashmir,
And the iridescent fields
And listen to the reeds
You’ll find Allah
Continue readingTrue Stories: The Rise and Fall Of Aylesbury Asians (1991/1992) Part 2
Before I begin this second, extended memoir of the Aylesbury Asians saga, I must give an apology. All that is written here is but fragments from my flawed memory and perception, so I ask those whom I have missed out to forgive me, and to those who disagree with my version of things, you are more than entitled to pull me up. May Allah give us the wisdom to say what is beneficial and leave out the nonsense! Ameen! My intention in sharing these stories is to shine a light on the past, with the hope that it brings cheer and nostalgia, which enriches our present moments and futures. I would also like to thank all the people I have mentioned in these accounts for making our collective lives richer, funnier and greater, both then and now. Alhamdulillah, in Aylesbury, us Paks have grown up together, inhaled the same air, walked the same streets and chilled in the same parks. Long may it continue! Ameen!
Continue readingCoz I’m Muslim and I’m British…
Coz I’m Muslim and I’m British
I really can’t help it
I was born in the Royal Bucks Hospital
As was my future spouse
I went to school with the Catholics
I went to mosque in a Victorian house
Continue readingFasting in Aylesbury
It’s Ramadan and I’m fasting
On the streets of Aylesbury
My hunger sighs out like a violin
My thirst desires the sea
I aim to focus my heart on God
And give my hunger a lesson
I aim to follow the scripture’s truth
And feel how drink is a blessing
Continue readingMuslim Imperatives
Smile endearingly like Al Mustafa
Brighter than an iridescent star
Rise celestially like Isa
Transcending corporeal fever
Conjure mystic snakes like Musa
Which devour the pull of Lucifer
Continue readingRamadan: No one can eat like me!
Maula Khan Maula Khan
No one can eat like me!
I come from the lands of Azkaban
I eat roast for my tea!
Maula Khan Maula Khan!
No one can eat like me
I eat like a king
So, I can sing
No one can eat like me!
Continue readingThe Two Strange Men Of Kashgar
One day, two men were arrested at the Id Gah mosque in Kashgar and sent away for cultural citizenship education. Onlookers, rather stunned, watched as the men were ushered into the police van, while the accompanying officers scanned around for potential trouble. No one stirred as the officers jumped in the back of the van, next to the men, who were also seated silently. The authorities were expecting a massive uproar from the locals, especially as intelligence had uncovered that these two men were revered as holy men or healers, who lived on the streets and could heal supernaturally. But there was no resistance; no struggles. The locals seemed pacified and the two men just sat there calmly. Just as the van pulled away, a local grocer woman called out: “see you again, insha Allah.”
Continue readingI’d Rather Go To Medina
I’d rather go to Medina
Than go to Hollywood
In Medina, there’s no Oscars
Or shining halls of fame
Instead there’s awe with Mustafa
And prayers at Qiblatain
Continue readingSimorgh At Islamabad Arrivals
In Islamabad arrivals, a great hullabaloo arose, like a volcano erupting. Hundreds of tired and disgruntled travellers crowded the luggage belts, struggling to catch sight of their possessions, like a flock of herons, frantically searching the water for fish. Faces scowled; babies wailed; ladies sat back, fanning themselves with their scarves. It had been two hours; their luggage had failed to arrive and, to make matters worse, the luggage of the next arrivals was beginning to appear instead.
“What the hell is this!” yelled a large, moustachioed fellow, in a rich, white salwar qameez. The officials, in blue uniforms, continued to play dumb, expressing platitudes: “we have some technical difficulties… One of the computers has malfunctioned, but it will be fixed, and your luggage will be here soon.”