Irfan: New Pictures!

After a long hiatus, we are back. And so is Irfan. After a string of shows that took him to the shores of Africa and Kuwait, he got to perform again in his homeland. India. His very own Hyderabad.
I pictured his voice filling all those far-off lands. And I think the air there still carries his voice, a note here, a note there, lingering in the air, someone in pain, suddenly comforted, for unknown to them they have been touched by Irfan's voice.
His show at the Niazm club of Hyderabad, was without doubt, successful. Here are a few concert pictures that can be downloaded from Picassa.


Click Her To See The Pictures

Irfan. The Voice.

a girl arranging the leaves of a potted money plant ,
sweltering to the summer heat, thinking of love,
a twenty-something jamming on his guitar,
eager to pluck a fresh note,
a blind poet – old now, running his finger over a blank sheet,
picturing the words he’d write there if he had the eyes to,
and then a voice fills their stilness,
deep, fluid, wrapped in sunlight, soft and fragrant as roses from valleys,
the voice slips past the money plant and gives love a halo in the girl’s mind,
run’s down the fingers of the musician and inspires them to a start,
colors the longing of the poet: making it a relic,
and so each of them: girl, musician, poet,
surrender to the voice:
your voice, Irfan,
rising from their computer, TV, and radio,
landing in their heart, sacred as a chadar
so that they each look within
at a heart cloaked in your voice
and experience in their different emotions and different cities,
a flicker of the same purity
stirred by Irfan. The voice.