Murad Ali

Murad Ali (Late)
(1 May 1981-7 February 2001)

IN THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SON

The elegy written at the death of my son,
Is neither for pleasure nor for fun
But express my painful thoughts
In poetical form to give the plots
What a miserable day it was
When the doctor told me the real cause
Of cureless disease of my loving son
That hit me like the bullet of a gun
His slimy body and broad chest
Oh My Lord! Nothing like the best
The dimple face with curly hair
Who kept them clean with thorough care
His lips like rose-petals round the teeth
Looked like a white line on a red lith
The thin fingers of his suited for painting
Comes to mind his action in batting
When smiled, the red eyes with tears on lashes
None is like Murad among my mashes
In anger when derogatory words I applied
He tolerated my anger, and never replied
That was a painful sight seen in life never
When the planks were kept to veil him for ever
In search of his soul; where it will lie
Not possible unless I die
After his death no charm in life
No body mourn like my wife
O God! Bless him with Your Heaven
A place in paradise which to few is given.
By Professor Nirul Hadi

(Compiled By Niaz Ali)