“Fields Painted on An Evening Sky”

“Fields Painted on An Evening Sky”

Fields of amber, gold and orange,
Painted on a canvas of sky blue,
Alight the fire with the embers
Of stirred emotions
Like the waking up of desire
Just before the dawn of the night.

—-Dr Hafsa Siddiqui


This poem is inspired by a photograph by a kind soul, Sir Shehryar Khawar. The link is given below:

Balochistan….the land of harsh romance!


“Snowflakes and Tears”

“Snowflake and Tears”

Amid the countless clouds that wander,
Dancing upon the horizon-
Above the waves and vales,
A solitary cloud sighs
And sheds;
Up in the heavens;
A tear-
Meeting the parched earth
As a crystallized snowflake.

—-Dr Hafsa Siddiqui


This poem has been inspired by a poem written by a gentle soul, Brother Mueen Kanwar, “Snowflakes to Tears”. Please click the link below to read his amazing poem.





Who travels by tram
In the old city
Of Karachi?
The ancient tracks bearing
Trash amidst
A dilapidated locality.
Wafting through
The waves of stink
The tracks
Speak a silent history
Of the old bustle of life.
Where life was valued
And things not left to ruins.
Yellow bricked buildings
Of the Victorian era
Were still cared for.
White sheets hung out to dry…
Narrow balconies in
The Saddar area,
Probably didn’t leak water
Of dubious origins;
Whether it is from the water tankee
Or used and filthy;
Cascading over urban terrains
Reaching your being
As you had to trudge along your destination.
The urban geography
Still had parks and clearings
Where children would play cricket
Without fear of breaking a window pane;
Before they disappear to escape the offence
And subsequent financial strain
Incurred by an angry neighbour.
But my city, is still breathing and alive…
It bears the scars and ruins of the splendor
Where once the octagenerians thrived.
The city of Edhi and his dedicated wife,
The city of philanthropists;
The city that houses many tribes
Foreigners and locals
From Afghanis to Bengalis
And the migrants from all tides.
Where one can sip doodhpati
At a dhabba hotel
And enjoy a crispy warqi paratha
With a thaal of malai
Either with friends
Or with family.
Shop for books
At old book stalls
Smelling in the fragrance
Of printed word
And smog.
The city I call home;
The city of lights.

—–Dr Hafsa Siddiqui

Inspired by the old railway tracks near the Tuesday Bazaar in my city and a few other things..

“Figs and You”

Our conversation

One Friday evening with you, my dear friend…

Evokes the image

Of the holy fruit “Tiin”,

Sworn by the Lord

In a surah of the Quran.

A fruit,

with a natural sweetness

And numerous benefits

For its consumers

Irrespective of their belief;

It caters a wholesome goodness

Unlike the artificial flavours

Abounding on the glittery shelves…

The “fig” and your sincerity,

My dear friend,

In its wondrous plainness

Are oblivious to the saccharine syrup

Of fair-weather friends.


Dr Hafsa Siddiqui


Dedicated to Hiba Khan. Love you ,dear sister, for being just yourself! 🙂