Awakening from Darkness

In the shadows' depths, where darkness prevails, The story unfolds, like a tale that hails, A human guise, a crafty disguise, Victories in elections, reached new highs.

But now winds of change are blowing anew, News of defeat, a reality to view, Fear grips him tight, eyes open wide, Trembling and uncertain, nowhere to hide.

Fear's grip over him, sanity slips, Lost in confusion, he stumbles and trips, In wielding his power, rights he'd erase, As snatching away bucks, sweeping embrace.

Recall the days when money did flow, Yet freedom's dependency continued to grow, Dependent on him for every dime, A silent thread weaving through time.

He wields his power, a grasp so strong, A prisoner's fate, a captive's long song, Confined in homes, yearning for a release, For freedom and light, a desperate peace.

Oxygen's memory, don't let it fade, As power usurps, foundations degrade, Electricity dwindles, the web's light dims, Like shadows encircling Manipur's whims.

What remains but allegiance pledged, To one person's rule, from edge to edge, A nation united in one election's chime, A tightening grip, freedom confined.

The voice of the Constitution, faint and low, Lost in the haze of power's cruel flow, Justice's facade, a stone-cold charade, The Constitution's message, left unportrayed.

Laborers walking, footprints of pain, Government actions, lives left in strain, Silent the Court, what answer does it yield, Countless voices silenced, a truth concealed.

Ambedkar's foresight, a warning bell, "If wielded by ill, a constitution will fell, No matter its strength, its noble intent, Futile it becomes, its impact spent."

Truth, non-violence, principles held high, The ideals that Gandhi reached for the sky, Discarded, dismissed, no longer to see, In power's dominion, they cease to be.

Smartphones, internet, screens ablaze, A world connected, yet hidden malaise, With a single stroke, silence prevails, Truth suppressed as darkness trails.

For those who couldn't be proud and free, Embracing Indianness with unity, Ahead lies a fate somber and stark, As fanaticism casts its shadowy mark.

In deity’s name, cheers may have rung, But control lurked, manipulation sprung, A nation's essence slowly stripped, A script repeated, history gripped.

Time flows onward in shadows' embrace, A tale hidden, secrets to retrace, Let wisdom guide, let hearts unfold, Unite for justice, truths to be told.

In the midst of darkness, seek out the light, A world reborn from endless night, In unity's embrace, strength shall rise, Breaking chains, reaching for the skies.

In the kingdom of shadows, hope prevails, A beacon's flame amidst veiling trails, It's time to rise, unite, and mend, Sow seeds of change, darkness to transcend.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

Echoes of Earth

Amidst nature's tender embrace so grand, Where verdant hues and landscapes expand, A realm of wonders, vibrant and free, A message echoes, for you and me.

Beneath the arching skies so wide, Where rivers weave and mountains bide, The secrets of the woods unfold, A tale of unity, yet untold.

Yet, harken well, a plea takes flight, A call to guard against the night, To shield all life, each species, kind, For in their realm, our hearts entwined.

The avian choristers and oceans blue, Whales that glide where horizons grew, In every living thread, we find, A shared existence intertwined.

As humans tread upon this sphere, Let unity and kindness steer, Cast off the shackles, fears abate, Forge ahead towards a peaceful state.

Unite against oppression's reign, Kindle the torch of love, not pain, Each culture, face, a vibrant hue, In unity, strength and hope renew.

Preserve our planet, spirit, and soul, Compassion's flame must be our goal, In harmony, our world we'll mend, Our lives, our planet, forever blend.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

A call to save the world

Amidst the embrace of nature's grace, Where sun and stars interlace, A world of wonders, lush and green, A tapestry of life unseen.

Majestic mountains touch the sky, Rivers flowing, spirits high, Forests whisper secrets wise, Underneath the endless skies.

But in this haven, let us heed, A plea that springs from every seed, A call to guard with heart and hand, For all life's creatures on this land.

Save the songbirds and their song, The oceans deep, where whales belong, In every creature, life does bloom, A shared existence, a precious loom.

As humans tread on this sacred sphere, Let unity and kindness steer, From wars and strife, let's find a way, To dawn a brighter, peaceful day.

Let's quell the fire of hatred's might, And extinguish fear with love's pure light, For every human, heart to heart, Can build a world where all take part.

Against tyranny and oppression's roar, Stand united, ever more, A tapestry of cultures, faces diverse, Let's cherish, protect, and converse.

Save the planet, save the soul, Let compassion be the goal, For in harmony, we shall mend, And safeguard lives till the very end.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

Rakhi: Threads of Unity

In threads of love, Rakhi weaves its art, A festival of unity that warms the heart. Beyond mere siblings, its story does extend, Myth, history, and customs blend.

Kunti's Rakhi, Abhimanyu embraced, A symbol of protection, love interlaced. Queen Karnavati and Humayun's bond, Crossing cultures, unity beyond.

Draupadi tied on Krishna's wrist so dear, A bond transcending time, crystal clear. Roxana and Porus, united by grace, Rakhi's embrace in history's embrace.

Tagore's dream to unite the land, Rakhi's thread held in each hand. Country divided, bitter taste sown, Rakhi's power can heal, it's known.

Let's tie the thread of love today, Across divides, let unity sway. From myths to present, let's embrace, Rakshabandhan's love, a binding grace.

~Dr Intaj Malek

Ephemeral Embers

In the realm of human connections, a story unfolds where two souls, Ishvar and Ramesh, existed as one, their identities intertwined in a dance of profound camaraderie. Ishvar, a luminary in the world of learning, radiated intellect and kindness, traits that ignited an unquenchable thirst for knowledge in the hearts of those he touched.

A chapter of their story found its inception in the world of Ramesh's cousins, particularly Devaki, a vivacious spirit whose chatter seemed to paint the air with hues of life. United by the corridors of their classroom, Ishvar's presence was first summoned by Devaki, who sought his guidance in the realm of learning. She was a beacon of vivacity, a counterpart to Ishvar's wisdom, and as they navigated their shared journey through academia, Ishvar found himself entwined in the world of Devaki's kin.

However, in the quiet corners of Ishvar's heart, a subtle yearning blossomed for Devaki, like a delicate flower whose petals he dared not unfurl. His words found solace between the pages of books and notebooks, where he inscribed her name with the grace of his penmanship. Hidden away, like secrets whispered to the wind, were expressions of affection, tender sentiments like "I love you," yet cloaked in a veil of trepidation.

But amidst these hidden emotions lay a truth that was emerging, a truth that resonated within the very core of Ishvar and Ramesh's connection. They were more than friends; they were soulmates existing in a state of harmonious resonance. Ramesh's affection for Ishvar transcended the boundaries of mere camaraderie. His days revolved around the presence of Ishvar—meals were shared, conversations intertwined, and life itself seemed to breathe through the rhythm of their shared moments.

The story took a turn that was as unforeseen as it was inevitable. Ishvar, his own circumstances tethered to the fringes of poverty, found solace within the embrace of Ramesh's family. A sanctuary emerged within their dwelling, where Ishvar sought shelter from life's stormy winds. In this haven of warmth and acceptance, Ishvar's intellect flourished, nurtured by the love and care of Ramesh's angelic parents.

As time wove its intricate tapestry, both Ishvar and Ramesh found their separate paths. They created their own families, their own worlds, yet their bond remained unbroken, a testament to a friendship that had transcended time and space. Ramesh, however, seemed to have drawn a curtain over the past, his memories of those vivid days now tinged with the soft hues of fading recollection.

For Ishvar, though, those days remained as vivid as ever, etched into the very fibers of his being. He carried the weight of their shared promises, the whispers of a lifelong companionship, and the echoes of a love that was profound and unspoken. He understood that the depth of their connection went beyond the conventional boundaries of friendship—it was a union of souls that transcended earthly labels.

As the sun of their lives cast its gentle glow, Ishvar carried the torch of their memories, a beacon of their enduring bond. In his heart, he held the fragments of a promise made to Ramesh, a promise to stand by his side in the journey that lay ahead. For Ishvar, it was a promise that remained unbroken, a testament to a love that was resilient and everlasting, and a whisper of a connection that time could never sever.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

A village where Akbar is worshipped with Jamlu Dev

Nestled beneath the towering embrace of Dev Tibba and Chandrakhani Peaks, within the enchanting Kullu district of Himachal Pradesh, lies the ethereal village of 'Malana'. Like a hidden gem, this village resides near the tranquil Parvati Valley, casting off the bustling throngs of tourists. What sets Malana apart is its idyllic charm, a canvas painted with the hues of unique culture, fervent religious beliefs, and timeless customs.

The very origins of Malana village are shrouded in the veils of enigma, a tapestry interwoven with threads of mysticism. Among the legends that envelop its inception, the name of sage Jamadagni is whispered. Yet, like fragments of a mosaic, the tales differ, each offering its own rendition of the village's birth. Enshrouded in folklore, one such tale reveals that a demon, Danu or Banasura, once held dominion over these lands. His tyranny ignited a spark of rebellion among the villagers, who beseeched their local deities for deliverance.

Bound by their own limitations, the gods could only convey that the power to overcome this malevolent force lay to the North. As the villagers embarked on their quest for this northern power, their journey led them to sage Jamadagni at Hamta, nestled within Kulu. This sage, descended from the revered lineage of Rishi Bhriguvanshi Ruchika, held the key to their salvation. With unwavering resolve, Jamadagni took up the mantle to face the demon, the heavens and earth bearing witness to their monumental clash. The battle raged fierce and unyielding, ultimately culminating in the demon's defeat. Banasura, humbled and contrite, implored the villagers to remember him as they left. In response, sage Jamadagni bestowed upon the village a unique gift—the 'Kanashi' dialect, to be spoken by the people of Malana for generations.

With the demon vanquished and tranquility restored, Jamadagni then outlined the principles and regulations that would shape the course of Malana's existence—a legacy meticulously upheld even in the present day.

Malana emerges as an oasis of fascination, a haven beckoning to the spiritual seeker and the adventurer alike. A trek to its serene environs reveals an exquisite journey adorned with the vibrant tapestry of cedar trees, their verdant hues juxtaposed against the crystal vista of the Malana Dam. Amidst this natural splendor, the Madagni temple and the Renuka Devi temple stand as emblems of devotion. Within their sacred confines, deities are revered and souls find solace.

Eclipsing the ordinary, Malana's governance dances to its own rhythm. Governed by a distinct parliament, the village's administration remains immune to external influence. This remarkable autonomy, propelled by their unwavering faith in democracy, stems from their reverence for Jamlu Dev. As the guiding force, Jamlu Dev steers the village's course, and the council of eleven, termed as Jambalu Dev's representatives, shapes its destiny.

Amidst this panoramic tapestry, a remarkable tribute to history unfolds—an act of worship that unites two seemingly disparate figures. During the Phagli festival, the villagers of Malana pay homage to relics of Rishi Jamadagni, known affectionately as Jamlu Dev, and an unexpected figure, Emperor Akbar. In an awe-inspiring ritual, the gold idol of Akbar takes its place alongside the venerable sage, symbolizing a harmonious convergence of historical narratives.

The legend traces back to a time when Akbar's rule extended its hand to Malana, demanding taxes. The priest of Rishi Jamadagni staunchly resisted, adhering to the sanctity of temple and tradition. This stance triggered a sequence of events that would forever entwine the emperor's legacy with the village's devotion. Witnessing divine intervention, Emperor Akbar recognized the exalted nature of Jamlu Dev's influence as snow descended upon Agra, affirming the deity's prowess.

Touched by this revelation, Emperor Akbar extended an offering of respect—an ornate gold idol of Rishi Jamadagni—to Malana. From that day forth, the two figures shared a space within the village's heart, a testament to the profound intersection of history and spirituality.

As visitors tread upon the hallowed grounds of Malana, a hushed reverence for its customs and traditions is paramount. Adhering to designated paths and refraining from contact with walls and structures stand as acts of homage. A modest penalty accompanies any transgressions, a reminder of the village's reverence for purity.

Steeped in tradition, the Malani people maintain an intricate ritual of purification prior to entering their homes or partaking in meals. While they graciously offer meal to visitors, this ritual extends to the utensils, sanctified anew with each use. The embrace of sustenance from beyond their valley remains rare, echoing the depth of their cultural ethos.

In the embrace of Dev Tibba and Chandrakhani Peaks, Malana stands as an enclave of history, spirituality, and traditions unswayed by time. A village both enigmatic and inviting, it offers a journey not only through landscapes but through the annals of the human spirit.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

My Books

Within the sanctuary of my dwelling La Grace, A kaleidoscope of knowledge finds its space, Books, a constellation of bound dreams, Unfolding worlds through vibrant streams.

Literary treasures, a mosaic so grand, Philosophies woven like grains of sand, Religions' stories, an intricate weave, A quilt of beliefs, in pages they heave.

Artists, sculptors, and painters renowned, Their tales whispered in pages unbound, Ink unveils their passions, colors unfold, Their legacies painted in words, so bold.

Sociology's tapestry, people's interplay, Psychology's labyrinth, minds at bay, Medicinal magic in scientific scrolls, Books, is a universe where wisdom tolls.

Languages' symphony, a babel of tongues, Political musings in ink-stained lungs, Derrida and Foucault’s thoughts intertwine, Habermas's ideas, sparks spirit divine.

Shakespeare, Milton and Chaucer's grace, Rumi's verses, love’s mystical chase, Sams, Hafiz and Mansoor's embrace, In words, and in spirits their souls interlace.

Gandhi's resilience and Sardar's might, Tagore's melodies and Nehru's insight, Pinter's drama and Ionesco's whims, Beckett's enigma where words set free.

Marx’s and Lenin’s, ideologies soar, Khushrau, Ghalib and Mir's lyrical lore, Shakeel and Shahir’s, voices of fire, Inscribed in pages, their desires aspire.

Vedas, Quran, Bibles, Granth Sahib divine, Guiding lights in the passage of time, Culinary secrets, flavour one’s bloom, Costumes in pages, a vibrant plume.

My dwelling a sanctuary, a heaven of thought, Where pages whisper what humankind sought, A symphony of words, a dance of the mind, In the tapestry of books, wisdom we find.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

Khamar Das Baul and the urban Bee

Nestled on the fringes of Bahirgachi village, beside the gentle flow of the Nagari river, lies the ashram of Khamradas Baul. Amidst the verdant expanse of the ashram, where fruit-laden trees intermingle with ornamental flora, Khamradas tends to a patch of land. His very name, bestowed by his Guru, bears testament to this connection, as "Khamra" echoes with the essence of the field in Bengali.

Unlike the allure that urban existence holds for many, Baul's spirit remains untamed by the city's charm. Embracing a rustic ethos, his ashram stands devoid of electric currents or concrete edifices. When queried about his affinity for the countryside over the bustling urban life, Khamradas shared his wisdom with a hearty laugh, as though gently unfolding the city's enigma.

"Brother," he began, his eyes dancing with a knowing glint, "it is the very air of the city that beguiles us. In the city, man is ensnared by illusions spun from thin air."

Perplexed, I inquired further, inviting him to elaborate on his cryptic words. Khamradas obliged, recounting an incident from three years past, when he accompanied a fellow soul to Malda, a journey prompted by a fair. The sun-drenched month of Baisakh had enveloped them in sweltering heat, propelling them to seek solace within the confines of a Sherbat shop nestled in the Nawabganj area.

As they lingered within, contemplating the refreshing delights that awaited them, the scene unfolded before his eyes. "We chose two glasses of rose sorbet," he recounted, his voice suffused with a reminiscing tone.

In the heart of the bustling crowd, a congregation of individuals waited in anticipation of their sweet concoctions. Khamradas's gaze traversed the tableau, and there, beneath the sweltering sun, he noticed a phenomenon that struck him as both curious and illuminating.

A pervasive shadow cast by a canopy played host to an array of vibrant sherbets, each distinct flavor encased within its own vessel. Vimto, rose, lemon — a symphony of colors and flavors awaited the eager patrons. The very shopkeeper, laboring to serve the clamoring throng, was at odds with time itself. In his haste, he was able to fill the glasses only partially, leaving them uncapped.

Yet, it wasn't the incomplete sealing that caught Khamradas's attention; it was the ethereal dance of nature that unfolded at the rim of each glass. An ensemble of bees, once far removed from his rural existence, flitted about the scene with an astonishing freedom. A chorus of wings, once resonating in the tranquil countryside, found a new harmony amidst the urban clamor.

The image before him resonated with profound clarity. The industrious bee, an emblem of diligence, would typically alight upon a solitary flower, extracting a meager two drops of nectar by day's end. Yet here, in the heart of the city, it roamed with an unparalleled sense of ease, its flight unrestricted among the crowd. Khamradas mused that it was as though the city had taken on the role of a mentor, imparting lessons of indulgence and leisure to the diligent bee. The very essence of hard work seemed replaced with the siren call of syrupy leisure.

With a contemplative gaze and a smile gracing his lips, Khamradas concluded his tale, the subtext of his narrative as clear as a tranquil stream. "From such a place," he shared, "we too may inherit the inertia of the bee, forsaking the pursuit of true sustenance for the easy allure of sugared gratification."

In that exchange of words and stories, it became evident that Baul's smile, that serene curve of his lips, encapsulated not just the tale of a bee, but the reflections of a sage.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

La Grace

In my château garden, I sit on a swing so high,

Listening to birds sing, beneath the clear sky.

After the rain's soft shower, the air feels so fresh,

My home, La Grace, brings peace like a gentle caress.

Nature's beauty mixes with God's loving grace,

In my small haven, known as La Grace

I write poems and think, surrounded by calm,

As blackbirds and sparrows add their soothing psalm.

A crow flies by, while the birds make their nest,

In this tranquil place, I feel truly blessed.

With linnet's melody and nature's grandeur,

I find in this moment, a blissful allure. 

Nature and God intertwine, hand in hand,

A symphony of tranquility, like grains of sand.

My soul finds solace in this serene embrace,

As I sway on the swing, in a tranquil space.

The linnet's song weaves tales of the sky,

Rain's sweet remnants in each droplet's sigh.

La Grace whispers stories of grace and ease,

As I reflect, my heart finds gentle release.

Buildings stand tall, people move with grace,

A world beyond, a slower-paced chase.

Here in my haven, where peace finds its start,

I discover the poetry within my heart.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

From Slaps to Hugs: Choosing Love Over Odium

In a classroom where kids learn and play, A teacher did something that led us astray, Hindu and Muslim, in a situation so grim, But we can find a better way, not on a whim.

The teacher's action, a hurtful suggestion, Instilling violence, causing a bad impression, Kids' minds are tender, like clay to be shaped, But nurturing kindness is how they're to be draped.

Yet one young boy stood out in the crowd, After school, he showed what's truly proud, The Hindu boy slapped, a painful start, But the Muslim boy's hug, warmed every heart.

An eye for an eye, a cycle so cold, Leaves us all blinded, and truth often untold, But the Muslim boy's hug, a lesson so true, Choosing love over hate, a better avenue.

Rabia's wisdom, a message to hear, A heart full of love leaves no room for fear, Why hold onto hate, when love's in our hands? Let's embrace understanding, cross all the lands.

~ Dr Intaj Malek