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Saturday, January 31, 2015

Pudge?

if i lay here.. If i just lay here...
Would you lie with and just look at the world? 

On our own.

چار دن کی چاندنی
پھر اندھیری دات


A thousand miles away, sleeping peacefully is a home. A home full of promise, made of bricks of memories;of fun times and not. The home we all return to time and time again. The sanctity of it all.

Almost a year. 365 days. A new leaf, new home and a new life. You have it all the way you wanted it to be. 365 days. So many days. so much time. And so many never ending reasons to be thankful.

Lying down in a warm and cosy bed, i recall a letter written long ago ending at تمہارا ابا *. Do you feel the warmth in these two words? This is family and it is love. Now and always.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

The beginning.

Scene 1 :

I don't think now is right.
why?
It feels so.

Scene 2:

Now is too soon.
Then will be too late.
Why?
Why wait?

Scene 3:

I don't think it will work out right out.
Is that all on your mind?
yes.
Promise?
Not today, today is a happy day!


Welcome to the opening chapter of what feels like the end. 

Just when you think life cant be more f****** it turns out it is. Its my fault, isnt it? To have based my happiness on some one; so dear and yet not. The idea of being with scares me but the thought of never is silently killing me. You know, how the say you are at several places at one time? Tick Tick Tock Tock. F*** F***. I cant breathe mostly. Just want a time out. Take these emotions and burn them up.

The smell of spirit is just so addictive. Do they not see? Oh Lord. The night is darkest before dawn. Save me from myself.

Voulez vouz; Now is all we get.

Friday, December 6, 2013

Past tense.

My eyes are in a constant search of a world. A place where I matter, where you matter, where we all matter. I, no longer want to be a shadow, a lost ray of hope. Half my days I am nothing, the other half don't matter. Nothing is enough.

Even words fall short of me. Words making sentences, hollow empty nothingness of letters. I feel shallow, thoughts choking me, pulling me to a time when there was love. When I wasn't discarded as the unseen, the unfelt. Memories and moments I held above life. My own.

Where are you now? I am alone, I don't feel. I let go of my life, let it lose. I am me and not who you want me to be. I have moved on. The sands of time push me ahead. I am alive but I don't feel you anymore. Not with me at least.

Aging

Why do old people die ? When they do, why is it so acceptable? At times I wonder , do I want to age? Do I want to grow up to an extent where my living or dying is the same for everyone?

I have dreams, then again we all do. To see them come true, one MUST live.


TO LIVE YOU MUST NOT DIE.

Monday, September 16, 2013

I need to know now, Can you love me again?

Walking along the brightly lit windows, scanning the numerous eager faces popping here and there you lose yourself in a world of endless possibilities.

There is Michael, nuh, there's a shop keeper. There are a handful of gorgeous men and beautiful ripe women. All ready to take and be taken. Be Mine, said she holding out her hand, her soul and body. So vulnerable, so so open.

She clings on to her raft as the waves beat against it, one by one shattering dreams, her image of self. The tide takes her to a deserted island, lifeless and gullible. The moment sand touches her bare feet she breaks down, tears roll down her face. For once in days of self loathing,denial and stress , she doesn't feel alone.  There is water all around her. She walks towards the ocean till the waves get higher and higher. High above her collar bone, dancing to her heart beat. Knowing fully well she is not a swimmer, heck she cant swim to save her own life, she challenges all odds. There deep down in the ocean, the mother of all that is good stirs taking with its commotion , a life full of lies.

Under the crystal chandelier He holds on to her tightly. His hand, her back. Her hand, his hand. They move around amongst all dancers effortlessly. Each move bringing the two closer together till they reach a point where they breathe the same air. He inhales, she exhales. He leads her away from the dance floor , to a garden under the starry sky. Tonight he will make her, his.

There is a ritual amongst Muslims, to pray five times daily. To take all your deeds, good and bad and seek from your Lord, refuge.

For the one thousand thoughts she has made me think. For the love that is running wild in her heart, for the man who stops the world, for a wronged religion, for the death of a million desires and for a life time of apple tea. I salute you, for being alive.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Khalbali.

Some people remember the event and some both. Matter of factly, it is impossible to remember both at least in the true sense. If you remembered a particular date out of 365 , you attached significant interest to the event. Hence, making the memory as bias as possible. It is now, your version of things that will forever be sacred to you.
Reality how ever may be much different than what we recall. Now, it is half truth and half lies. Black and white.

YOUR VERSION:
We met. All was friendship and love. Now guns and bullets.

MY VERSION:
We met. All guns and roses. Still guns and roses.

Conclusion: objects in the mirror are still closer than they appear.