We all, at some points in life, encounter questions whose answers are not found in the outside world but must be sought within ourselves. In such moments, some turn to prayer, others fall in silence, and some seek refuge in poetry. The poetry of Rahman Faris is also a doorway or path of new worlds a doorway to creative diversity and a return to the self. The door of words with ointment is never locked. In every situation, every exhaustion, every blocked path, this door, tied with a golden thread of words and opens with the light of the heart. He says
I care not for stars or the moonlight's embrace,
My heart itself shines, with its own radiant grace.
Faris's poetry doesn't divide life into simplistic questions: rather, it creates an entire universe within those questions. He does not argue with words. He seeks a path through them with a bundle of hope and aspects. Reading his ghazals or poems feels like a private conversation as if he's speaking directly to the reader. Without shouting, without striving to impress, without joining the race for fame. His poetry carries a sense of wonder, a wonder that doesn't unsettle the heart but soothes it. Like the soft touch of rain in a desert: no change in the scenery, no shift in season, and yet a subtle moistness seeps within. Faris's poetry is composed of such states, just beyond the bounds of expression, yet never entirely outside them.
To be utterly devoted to the beloved's will,
What a wondrous act to be content in surrender still.
He shares the wings of flight from within the bounds of silence, offering a message of freedom. Like a mystic who, in the midst of chanting, falls into soundless trance. But whose heartbeats speak everything. His poems carry a Sufi essence, not expressed through philosophical jargon, but through the weariness of everyday life. What's clear is that Rahman Faris's true brilliance lies in the fact that he doesn't use poetry as a weapon of ego. He doesn't try to awe the reader, he includes them. In his verses, one can discover oneself. Without fear, without losing the way.
For Faris, seclusion is not merely physical but spiritual and intellectual. So he may turn away from the noise of the irrelevant and connect with listeners who are thoughtful and sincere.
Now I will speak directly with sorrow,
Friends, caretakers, and sympathizers give me solitude.
All around is a crowd of strangers to eloquence,
Today, call out with force, "Faris demands solitude!"
Here, a rhetorical and dramatic tone is apparent. As if a proclamation is being made in a gathering. The choice of words is impactful and literary. The "crowd of strangers to eloquence" reflects the lack of serious and understanding individuals in today's world. The message carries weight: until the noise of the ignorant fades, the words of the insightful can not be heard. Hence, "solitude" is essential so that the voice of the heart, truth, and understanding may reach us with full effect. The poet presents solitude as an intellectual and spiritual necessity, a message of deep relevance in today's age of confusion.
It was a moment to behold when the dervish declared,
O crooked-crowned kings and emperors clear the way!
The dervish's call for solitude from worldly powers is, in essence, a conversation with truth and spirituality. The ability to sense time deeply is rare and Rahman Faris is among those few. His poetry contains curious layers of time. There is an echo of the past, a heartbeat of the present, and occasionally, the haze of the future. He doesn't measure time by the ticking of a clock but by the pace of memory, emotion, and dreams. In a single moment, he can conjure up multiple seasons.
The moment of farewell froze within me,
Though I lived on, time itself died within me.
In the silence of the evening, screams can be heard,
As you departed, you left behind a strange uproar in me.
Many of Faris's verses seem to capture time itself as if a moment were shackled in chains of verse. These small fragments of time make up our lives, ringing constantly, though we seldom pay attention to them. In Rahman Faris's poetry, time becomes a character. He speaks to time, complains about it, sometimes takes its testimony, and at times even refuses to acknowledge it. In his poems, he delicately ties the fatigue of age, the moisture of memory, and the hope of tomorrow so that readers, at any stage of life, may find themselves enclosed in his words.
Faris's poetry emerges powerfully and meaningfully within the context of the modern era. He addresses themes like pandemics, fear, anxiety, and inner turmoil with a language that is both simple and deeply impactful. Even amid the fog of despair, a subtle flicker of hope can be seen offering readers courage and strength. His poem "La Tahzan" (Do Not Grieve) treats the pandemic not just as a disease, but as a social, psychological, and emotional experience one that ends not in destruction, but in hope, resolve, and life.
Fear of death from the pandemic is real, no doubt,
But open the doors spring has arrived!
Though fear runs in our blood, and anxiety clouds our hearts,
Though these days of war against the virus are harsh,
Still, a flicker of hope has once again begun to glow,
Open the doors spring has arrived!
On issues of modernity and gender topics often tainted by biased slogans. Rahman Faris takes a balanced approach. His poem "Aurat March" (Women's March) is filled with colours of tolerance and patience promoting dialogue and wisdom.
Come, let's make peace
For the sake of our children's future generations,
For the coming seasons of love.
Let's end this quarrel and make peace,
Today, side by side, let us walk in the new march of life,
Where both your voice and mine
Have equal say, equal choice.
Reading Rahman Faris's poetry is like travelling through a multi-dimensional, winding landscape. He feels less like a poet and more like a path.
The river of blood now flows through the village and street,
Fold your boats, friends stay home, stay complete.
Another brilliance of Rahman Faris is that he carries the journey of language alongside the journey of time. His verses are never bound to just today they live on into tomorrow. He doesn't reduce the ghazal to mere expressions of love but turns it into a quiet rebellion.
Let critics gleefully list my flaws all day,
For when the flaws are gone, only skill will stay.
Every day, the world hurls stones at my dreams,
And dying daily, my dreamscape survives and gleams.
To read Rahman Faris is to converse with time
Sometimes, as a question, sometimes as an answer.
But always, to discover something new and remember something deeply old.
