Poetry in the city.
[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi]
The Delhi Walla arranged to meet Urdu poet Aamir Khan at his Filler Jeans Showroom in the eastern neighborhood of Welcome Colony.
In his 30s, Mr Khan cannot read the Urdu script. So, he writes in Devnagri. His notepad is filled with his poetry as well as of his beloved poets such as Iqbal Ashar, who lives close to his house.
Mr Khan’s notepad is actually an appointment diary, dated 1999. He keeps it in the shop’s cash-box.
“I’m an afsana-nigar,” says Mr Khan. “Through my poems, I try to document our society.” He shares an untitled poem with us.
Har khushi mukhlif hue jaye hain,
Mere gham ka khazana khali hue jaye hain.
Chahte hain hum jisse bhi dil se,
Wohi humse door hue jaye hain.
[Each source of my happiness is drying out,
The treasury of my unhappiness too is fast emptying.
Whoever I like from the depths of my heart,
Starts to drift away from me.
— loosely translated by The Delhi Walla]
A poet’s world