You complain that I have forgotten —
The pledge of love was once made with you.
Those lovely days of closeness, those tender nights…
moonlight wrapped around a tree,
a damp-breathed breeze, and the fragrance of flowers,
tight buds snapping open, the urgings of passion-filled desire,
and—behind a veil of coyness—someone’s confession—
where the lamp of love kept burning,
It’s a light calling us toward our destination.
We were travelers of that priceless love.
But the winds of the world did not suit us.
In the desert of love, it was you who showed the path.
And in hints, you even pointed out the goal.
Alas, you forgot your own lesson—
Your road grew new, your destination new.
I wandered, scorched, through deserts,
A traveler is fixed on a single direction towards the goal.
Days and nights kept passing;
Then a morning began to dawn:
An innocent soul was wandering too, like me, along the roads.
She, too, was seeking a destination—so I took her as a guide.
It was you who broke the vow of faithful love.
chose a new path and marked a new destination.
I kept roaming like a lonely traveler – yet you say I have forgotten!
Those beautiful days of nearness, those gentle nights—
I can never forget those moments: hours in which a glimmer of love remains,
In which even today the scent of your breath remains.
In my chest, they still shine like a lamp—
those words of yours, those meetings of ours.
You had told me: if ever I make a vow, I must keep it for life.
She too took me for a guide on the way.
Thus, both of us found a support to live by,
And the broken little boat at last reached the shore.
With her, I made a new oath and pledge—
She who gave me a new desire to live.
And you say I should shatter this vow like glass?
How could I trample an innocent underfoot?
How could I forget your pure lesson today?
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Interpretation –
Themes: Fidelity over longing; responsibility and blame; irony (her teaching binds him to another); compassion bounded by principle.
Takeaway: Honor the present promise; let memory be tender, not sovereign.
This is written by Dr. Kahkashan Parween, a teacher by calling and a writer at heart. She studied Urdu—the gentle, generous language she loved – and carried its grace into her life: soft-spoken, clear-minded, and unfailingly kind. She lived for people, helped wherever she could, and held on to memories the way others hold on to keepsakes. We are her proud kids, and this space is for her: a home for her words, so her voice is never lost. May everyone who reads here find a little comfort, a little light, and remember her with me.