Meet Foziya Khan, an emerging poet and teacher from Bhopal. Discover her journey, her unique blend of Hindi-English poetry and her biography.
Who is Foziya Khan?
Foziya Khan is a Bhopal-based teacher, poet, and artist. Born and educated in Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh, she currently teaches at Ryan International School, Bhopal. Guided by a deep love for both education and the arts, Foziya balances her professional responsibilities with her creative pursuits, bringing the same dedication to the classroom as she does to poetry and art.
Early life and Education
Foziya Khan was born on April 24, 2001, in Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh. She completed her schooling at St. Xavier’s Sr. Sec. Co-ed School, Bhopal. She then went on to earn a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature from the Institute for Excellence in Higher Education (IEHE) in Bhopal. Following this, she obtained her master’s degree in English literature from Indira Gandhi National Open University.
Note: She is one of the many students to get the scholarship for her bachelor’s degree.
| St. Xavier’s Sr. Sec. Co-ed School | Primary Education, Commerce |
| Institute for Excellence in Higher Education (IEHE) | Bachelor of Arts – English Literature |
| Indra Gandhi National Open University, Bhopal. | Master’s Degree |
Foziya Khan’s Achievements
Beyond her teaching journey, Foziya Khan is deeply passionate about the arts. She is the earliest member of the art group and NGO, “Chhatnaara,” demonstrating her commitment to fostering creativity in her community. As a poet, she primarily writes in free verse, and her work is celebrated for its masterful blend of English-Hindi words. This unique fusion creates a lyrical and captivating style.
She anchored Jashn‑e‑Urdu 2025, a three‑day cultural festival by the Madhya Pradesh Urdu Academy in Bhopal, and is actively engaged in culture and arts initiatives.
SOME POEMS BY FOZIYA KHAN
- मिट्टी हिसाब करती है-
एक हिस्सा देती है,
दो हिस्से लेती है।
सड़क, हादसों की खटिया है,
दुनिया की हर सड़क का अंत-
एक हादसा है।
एक बड़े बरगद के नीचे,
सभी के हिस्से की सड़क दबी है;
जब उन चीखों की आवाज़,
ऊपर की ओर आते हुए थरथराती है,
वह बरगद झूम उठता है,
खुशी के फव्वारे बिखेरता हुआ।
मिट्टी खोदो,
सोना मिलेगा,
भविष्य का भूत मिलेगा;
जिसे कुछ नहीं मिलेगा,
उसे हादसों का मंजर मिलेगा।
~फौज़िया खान
- 2. तुम ऐसे आना”
किसी दिन
तुम सूरज की पहली किरण जैसे आना,
जहां इन आँखों में रोशनी तुमसे आए,
ऐसे आना।
चाहत को एक छोटे-नीले कागज़ में गुथ कर,
किसी कबूतर के पैरों में पायल जैसा पहना देना;
वह कागज़ आसमान का होगा,
तुम्हारी चाहत हर किरण में होगी,
सबकी नज़र मुझे ढूंढती होगी,
तुम ऐसे आना।
तुम्हारी आँखों के इर्द-गिर्द की सफ़ेद नदी-
आंधी की उदासी, तूफ़ान के शोर,
और पानी की तड़पन से;
जब बीहड़ की शांत आस्था हो जाए,
तब वसंत की चाह लिए आना,
तुम ऐसे आना।
पहले जैसा कुछ नहीं होगा,
हर बार की तरह इस बार भी,
आगे, सब बेहतर होगा;
यह कलमे की तरह याद करके आना,
तुम ऐसे आना।
तुम्हारे आने से, कुछ बदलेगा नहीं
सिवाय इसके,
कि तुम्हारी आँखों के सिवा
मेरी आँखों को कुछ दिखेगा नहीं;
एक किरण मेरे नाम ले आना,
तुम ऐसे आना।
~ फौज़िया खान
3. You walk by the street,
the sun sets early above the bridge,
a black crow brings the news of passing,
and quietly whispering the death of someone.
The blue shrinks,
then spreads a slow blanket of dark
over the bridge and the sky;
and everyone sitting in the car which passes by.
You dislike black, but in the moment,
it’s prettier than the white you’ll soon see.
A child brings a bunch of pens for you to buy,
he wishes you to write, you wish to write too,
but what?
You buy a pen, drop it in your bag.
It falls on the cover, of one of the many blank pocket notebooks which accompany you everywhere.
You walk the easy miles and reach the dreadful house,
the eyes of a dead person await to see you one last time.
You clean, bath, and drape her in white
kiss the cheek and stand aside;
peace found a new meaning that day:
‘A frozen time.’
Seconds, minutes, days, weeks,
all fail to break that ice of peace.
Grief is a bully of human life.
It puts a blanket over you -
hits, kicks, punches and strangles;
to calm the shock of pain in you.
It holds you by the throat,
then throws you on the stones to breathe
and leaves you to regret the breaths you take.
It finds a way into your body to live like a hidden organ,
found a place below your heart,
the heart, which shrinks each day
and gives space for grief to grow.
The ground under your feet
sinks into a hidden dark tunnel
under the wheel of the world,
there’s no noise around -
Grief has made its way to your head
and goes round and round in the shape of a train-
loud, mournful, miserable screams cloud your vision.
You run through the tunnel
for a shadow of light
or a door
or a way to seek life,
You run faster to shut the noise in your head.
Grief is a circle; tunnel is a circle.
You pull the pen and write -
‘Peace- A frozen time’
~Foziya Khan