Ghulam's Ghazals
Ghulam crosses the Indian border
to conquer. Bodies vanish; souls
wander in the vicarious valleys.
Fanatics essay to frighten
the music maestro, shouting
outside the auditorium.
If they sit inside, they’ll return
as men. There’s no discrimination
in music. Minds molt mundane
emotions, and become fresh again.
His ghazals, like AB group, accept
blood of Hindustani classical music.
Music creates blue moonlight,
when a youth enjoys black
hair-falls amidst the fragrance
of jasmine blooms. A man in
seventies skulks to1960, where
a brown girl stands half hidden
behind door. Aches and
anxieties lie vanquished
in Ghulam’s voice
and variations. Men
in diverse creeds die;
human beings rise.
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