Black Positively

I dreamt last night while asleep restlessly,

Of a painting I had painted, apparently.

Blackness overpowered a layered background,

The kind a nyctophile would be around,

Like heavy rain on a dark, black night,

The calligraphic 'Allah' glowed in white,

And unseen symbols scattered around,

Of beige, off- white and lapis ground.

The emotions felt were of immense relief,

That Allah is present in the darkest grief,

That unknown beings are sent to guide,

Light forms, Dakini, positive minds.

Dark negatives and imagined scenes,

Are the 'Sharri waswaasi khannaas'* it seems,

Veils of lies cast upon

a vulnerable mind trying to hang on,

Not giving in, fighting on, climbing up and moving on.

Black it was before He said 'Be',

Black, the shroud of all mystery,

Black, the source of the colours of life,

In black He is, the source of light.

*the evil of the whisperings of the slinking (Shaitan).

(Qur'an, Surah An-Nas, Verse 4)

~Ambereena Razvi

For Ali Mahdi - 'Piece of Paradise'

For Ali Mahdi - 'Piece of Paradise'
40 x 60 cms
Colouring pencils on white card

هيهات منا الذلة

هيهات منا الذلة

I saw her scattered all over the sidewalk….

Hijab askew.

White before, now of a red hue.

‘Haithaath minna dhilla’, escaped her lips

Before she closed her eyes,

And slept in bliss.

I see a child crouched a little further….

Head buried in her hands,

Longing for her mother

Who died fighting for her honour

‘Haihaath minna dhilla’, she hears the chant and feels the power.

I see the old man,

His white beard soaked in blood,

Protecting his kin,

His clothes torn, his mind worn,

‘Haihaath minna dhilla’ - to himself he has sworn

I see the youth,

Some still fighting,

Retaliating an oppression,

Refusing to live in disgrace and depression,

They wake up every morning,

Shedding their blanket of dreams of freedom,

Stopping to take a breath - seldom,

‘Haihaath minna dhilla’running through their blood,

Never to give in,

Minds made up.

I see me

Painting their troubles,

Painting their pain,

Telling their tales,

‘Haihath minna dhilla’, running through my veins. 

-Ambereena Razvi

For my Forefather

I am a dust particle

the one that floats aimlessly.....

maybe guided

maybe oblivious

I am one of numerous

of your sons and daughters

one unworthy of your attention

yet one who seeks it

I am of you,

of your lineage,

a bit of the remaining dust...

dusted away by the Sculptor's hand

Floating away aimlessly...

maybe guided,

Oblivious.

(A monologue with Imam Ridha (a.s), from 'Monologues with my Forefathers - by Ambereena Razvi)

The Voluntary Sacrifice

The Voluntary Sacrifice

This project started as a lesson plan on Ballad and Elegy writing for my grade 7 class.  In two days, I ended up writing this twelve-page Elegy for the Martyrs of Karbala. I and my grade 7 students recited it on the 9th of Muharram in school. Hats off to my students for memorizing my elegy within a week and giving a stellar performance. Inshallah, I will post the video of our performance very soon. In the meantime, do watch my recitation by clicking on the link above.

Evolve!!

It's time to move on to a higher level of consciousness,

Before stagnation sets in and we start to get restless

I can't help but think, how akin we are to trees- growing, shedding,

Sometimes standing strong, sometimes due to strong winds- bending, breaking...

Evolution is a constant, it cant be stopped,

for some it comes as an epiphany, while unfortunately,

some adopt

An ignorant stance in a world of oblivion,

and continue to live life like a chameleon,

changing their colours, changing their opinion,

No depth in their thinking - Ego's dominion,

Not progressing but regressing, insulting their intellect 

and their existence by showing continuous disrespect,

to the self and other's for lack of thought,

the lack of love and the lack of not

willing to see another's point of view,

but instead, focusing on their skin's hue,

his turban, her hijab, his kippah, her cross,

his beard, her stance never to toss,

her veil, her right, her identity,

What do you want? Can't you see?

Do you actually think you will succeed?

Oppression has always seen an end, indeed.

The right to BE cannot be taken,

Please try to understand and awaken,

Let it be Love that lives in your heart,

Squash your Ego, make a new start.

~Ambereena Razvi

(I wrote this in response to some nasty comments a young Sikh kid was subject to regarding his identity on a public forum. I cannot stand people with such rotten mentalities. This was written to shut them up.... and shut up they did!)

NUMB

We don't know where to look anymore

We keep turning away

and furthermore,

we have the audacity to say,

"Ignorance is bliss....."

C'est la vie! mon cheri,

No use pursuing this!"

Bliss in Ignorance.

adopt this indifference

We've frozen our emotions...

Nothing clawing at our conscience..

Cold

Fear

steer clear

of bad news,

images of orphans and reds of myriad hues,

Look away.....

WE have nothing to do with it!!!

Why feel another's pain....

There's nothing to freakin' gain!!!!

Ashamed.....

We sit in the dark....

rocking ourselves,

trying to soothe our heart,

our souls and our minds...

Disunion tears them apart..........

"I'm sorry sweetheart!!

It don't work that way no more....

Stop pretending 

Face the dying roar"....

Jiminy Cricket* is here....

And he's gonna make you look -

 - don't fear

He's gonna make you cry and scream

He'll chirp all night long,

until in your dream

the souls of the dead haunt you, 

Screams come through

dear Lord! they cut through

your soul

until you awaken,

sobbing, broken

helpless.... to help the helpless,

confronting your worst nightmare

wringing your hands, grasping your hair

gasping for air

Helpless

Numb.

~Ambereena Razvi

*Jiminy Cricket: The liar's conscience (Pinocchio)