Saki

In the hand of the Saki are wines One of laughter one oftears.
I am holding an Empty cup Hoping for your generosity

0 Saki give me which ever you like But give it to me with a smile
1 am a madman and care nothing For tears or laughter

But, Oh, please don't send me away thirsty From the win chouse of your love

All these poems are from the works of
Lewanae Falsafi
. You have never heard of him. Neither havemost of the Pathans. He is a young Pathan poet who has published nothing though he has written much

. You have never heard of him. Neither have most of the Pathans. He is a young Pathan poet who has published nothing though he has written much.

MEHER, my tenant, was not handsome to look at. He had green eyes set in a broad Mongolian face, which was dark and pock-marked. He had powerful shoulders and a deep chest. His limbs were magnificent, his strength like a-bulTs but he had a way of looking at things through them comer of his shifty eyes that always succeeded in irritating| and annoying me. He was the best farmer and the biggest thief in my village. As the Khan of a Pathan village who, besides his many other portfolios, is in charge of law and order also, Meher and I did not like each other. He hated the customs and laws of our society as much as I did. Only he always had the pleasure of breaking them and I the duty of drilling them into his thick obstinate head. For cruel and oppressive as the customs and laws are, they are the only binding force of our culture. A strong horse needs thick ropes to save him and the world from its mischievous youth and destructive strength. I had to break in this youthful' stallion to the law of his race and he hated it. So did 1 because I am neither a prophet nor a general. I am a poet ^ would much rather see a stallion rear and buck and gallop and jump with the grace and joy of youth than tie him in 2 stable and make him chew to order.

Anyway, Meher escaped that doom; he died of typhoid. When I went to see him he was in the last stages. His gigantic body had refused to melt or surrender but his eyes were tired.

His family was in despair. They had tried all the] doctors I had recommended one after another, and paid- dear money for coloured and smelly things in bottles. Thief his mother had looked with panic-stricken eyes at the heroic struggle of his body and shouted: "Black Magic. Why, look, his body is big as a mountain and yet he is overcome!" She told her old husband, "If it were a disease, one of these big doctors would have known it and given him the right medicine. They could not because it is not a disease. It is black magic". "Woman's talk," said the old man to his son Usman, who was standing frowning nearby. "Listen to him, said the old woman."He sits with his educated Khans and consequently does not believe in prayers and charms, but don't you remember,Umar had the same kind of trouble which no one could cure until they brought the "Shah Sahi of Fairies." He found the evil charm and saved his life by the grace of Allah and kind spirit of his Master's. It took a long time.