Thursday, April 28, 2011

Wish You Were Here

Like a very fine ray, where sun basks the day
In the hindsight! you arrive as a peace-giver

But all my assessments drowned in the river
this is how much i care about you

If you ask me i can dive down into the memory lane
And bring one most powerful, most fine year

Just to show you that this one year
When i felt that nothing more than you, is my need to bear

And today when you are away
Is the thousands miles i cover in a day

And these strange happenings have tied their knots wickedly
Sulking in the temple,doomed to see colors fading away vividly

Come from the certain side of the mirror
To see if i am real, if i can break the wind storm or burn the hashes of fear

But now, when you come to breach the rules of uncertainty
Don't come as a weather,come as infinity

The color of your soul and this strange intimation
This is how much i miss you and your felicitation.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

If You Ever Try to Find 'ME'

As the evening curtain hoops down the last tinge of light; prevailing over us. And if you have an urge to find the lost ‘me’. Come through the doors of patience.

Don’t look for the perfection in me: that’s in every second person with little manipulation and that’s how every second person tried to find me.

Find the lost ‘me’ in all imperfections, that is in me and that defines me.

Try to figure out the missing difference, it’s in every second rose sagging because of the fake play of the day.

Try to find me in the serenity that only comes within the flowing water, surfeit water, with an aptitude of reaching the other region, the other part of the realm.

It flows uninterrupted taking all the soaked tears and dropped happiness. If you try to find ‘me’,  find me in the lower layer carrying indispensible ‘me’.

Look through this sight of the globe I am left behind while the rest of the world flew off ahead. Try to find me in the remaining ones, who have smashed their paws and hurt the inner them, who soot in the hope of adjudication.

Life is a layered yet an oddly known inhabitant. It’s like a seduction by a chocolate cake. At first look, it is heavenly fascinating, flawless and almost drowning. Middle layer is the most delicious discovery and top just calls out for a little too much of perfection with the cherry on top. Try to find me in the very basics, a discovery more subjective than making your objective.

If you ever try to find me, look for the empty days in your life that you have spent without smile. Try to find me in your loneliness, over the lush green grass where you went for meditation and rest of the world passed by you. Your eyes are closed and you could barely see but feel me in the absence of your breathe.

Try to find me in monuments of the world or constellation of stars, i happend to be in between them, leaving for a sweet escape in every highs and lows of this curve of life.

Come, grab my hand, take me to the moon or drop me from the sky but if you ever try to find me, find me with implications of the lost 'me'.I found you in millions,you just try to find one 'ME'.

"This post is dedicated to all who are lost or rambling in woods"

"lately one of my senior said someting really simple yet unique. According to that, we on average live 60 years of life. In initial 18 or 20  years we tend to make less mistakes, so if rest 40 years of our life can be spend following the doctrine given to us; we can make our immortal life incredible.Simple yet difficult."

Happy week days ahead pals ;)

Friday, April 22, 2011

" A Tribute "

I was comfortably wrapping up my stuff at office till I got a message; breaking this sad demise of one of the fine artist I have known, all from my childhood and right now I feel really heart broken.

And after that I can actually feel this void somewhere within vicinity and to my extreme surprise I was just remembering his act in one of the drama ‘Rozee’ early morning today.

I was really young when I saw the drama and i hardly could make sense out of it but it was then I realized what an actor can do, creating an environment so overwhelming that it hovers your mind for long.

It feels as if you grow up with these things and people and I have started feeling old with such sudden but for sure displacement.

It was with that I realized an act of fighting and impersonating, love and affection. It was then i understood what sentiments possibly could be.The dialogues, altruistic delievery and much more.

These are people who made us smile and now I see millions of them crying for moeen akhtar today.

I always used to wonder if a there is some replacement, if someone can take place of any individual. My vision comes back to me in refute.

It’s just that we learn to live without people and they make a wonderful memory somewhere in our memoryhood and those are most wonderful beings; who can make their space, alive or dead. He was surely one of them.

Dear God,

I know and I understand sooner or later, we are all going to meet you. It’s just that we have developed a strange affinity with things you bestowed us with and this surrounding seems so known, so ours. I understand, I will forget this within days but please call us while we are strong enough to handle ourselves to be dragged towards you. Make us call you in our last breathes and hope that we become one of the most cherished memory for people here, while being with you.

‘A word of prayer for legendary artists’.

Allah bless us all.

"This post is dedicated to all our four artist who we lost in just few months. May allah make things easier for them and forgive them."

Dhoondo gay agar mulkon mulkon milnay kay nahiin nayaab hain hum
Taabiir hai jis kii hasrat-o-gham ay ham-nafso woh khwaab hain hum

Main hairat-o-hasrat kaa maaraa, khaamosh kharra hoon saahil per
Daryaa-e-muhabbat kehtaa hai aa kuch bhi nahin payaab hain hum

Ay dard-e-muhabbat tuu hii bata ab tak yeh mua'mma hal na huwa
Hum main hai dil-e-be-taab nihaan yaa aap dil-e-be-taab hain hum

Laakhon hii musaafir chaltay hain manzil peh ponchtay hian dou aik
Ay ehl-e-zamaana qadar karo nayaab na hon kam-yaab hain hum

Murghaan-e-qafas ko phoolon nay ay Shaad yeh kya kehlaa bhaijaa
Aa jaao jo tum ko aanaa ho, aesay main bhi tou shadaab hain hum...!!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Last Dialogue

September 1992:

She was wearing pink that day and weather was extremely hazy. Mist turned into sweat, and sweat that unusually took passage through the palm, hanging through the forehead and feet rocking on a very exciting beat. 

My start system was extremely excited and as I passed through the conventional places, something mitigating in the air, thinking about all the clauses for a perfect balanced equation. What to say, what not to say, I want no jitters, have to control this smile and the line I see exactly from this length should be the culmination point .After that I have to act reasonable, calm and composed.

So same thing happened exactly in the opposite direction: I rushed towards her, even took jumps and kick pebbles over the road, untainted smile, I could even feel my jaw bone stretched to the limits and I absolutely forgot what to say as she came into the scene with the most auspicious smile, walking as if each small distance is accurately measured, a bit shyness and.. And a mild thundering, nature’s conspiracy to make her feel confident.

July 1998:

Today is a similar day, winds are gushing, corroding the very taste of sweetness I ever had, itching, passing almost lifeless hand through the hair, just to feel body and body with a soul. I am not really sure if soul is here, she took it years back while then I assumed she took over it. 

Ahhh… my feet are numb as if, I was the one left over soldier in the aggressively covered White Mountains and my body negates every proportion of myself proceeding forward.

Going back is my choice but moving ahead is my dire need. She appeared again from the crowd in dejection, possibly mere abhor she holds against the world.  She will take ages to understand and minutes to fume up with the upshot. But distance has to be covered one way or the other. 

We were here standing at an ounce distance. Before I ever got a chance to greet her, my world was in rains and her face appeared foggy, I took a minute to understand the happening s of the moment.

Before we started our last dialogue, I was wondering the truth she had in her imagination:

“This my dear! Will never come again. The faces, the expressions, this shine in my cloth, assuredness in you, assuages of everything in nature, won’t come ever again. We may have good or bad or even ugly ones but this won’t come again”

You were right … you were right to the core but before you leave I wish you put a balm on the ridden heart or crash my memory right side, left side, every side .I won’t you to be remembered by the first day only. 

But I saw my eyes drooping down and her image was in vague. She had locks, curled up over the face and as I wanted to see if they hold grace to give life back to my lifeless hand, she beckoned me to be seated. 

I sat as if assembling every part within each other, she was quiet .Her quietness kills me and her face was slightly swollen as well. And weird cuts on the hand as if she has been cutting every unused memory from the broken farmyard.  She had dust over the shoulders and nearby.

Where she left her neatness?

But this is not the time to think about other details; we need to see each other by face so we jumbled up with the sights of each other. My sight was static, hers was dynamic probably because she is weak and shyness her essence that kept me closer for all those years.

This was our last dialogue; we said nothing, we saw nothing as we surrendered everything already. All we saw were moments compressed within hands lock .This was our last attempt to hold it, last desire to save it.

This was the most organic, most profound, betrothal our last dialogue.

As i wrote this fiction, i wanted it to have sad endings but this music kept my pen rolling in the other direction: 

This post is dedicated to happily married couples, hurdles are the only trick to keep you two closer. 
Wish you all a lovely life.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Voyage of Discovery - 1

I write and rub off … write and rub off .After practicing this quite a lot of time I thought of starting with the broken words.

It is said that broken words are essential for conversation to be going on. So therefore I believe a child makes his first connection by uttering cackles to make his closer once realize about his presence.
And here a big girl is trying to endorse similar effect  :)

After having a lot of back offs and living in extreme dismay lately (the usual boredom, use of brain to the minimum, health issues lingering on, this issue that issue) ; I realized that emotional juncture takes you to the places you cannot think off to be in.

From our child hood we learn to adhere to the principles and one principle I knew was never to complaint or regret.

It is what I tied my knot with and practiced a lot. There were times when I couldn’t feel earth beneath my feet, I went quiet but then realized I need to move on, need to see the periphery then to stay vacuous. That was the time when my words sounded so emotionless and my wholesome presence was almost negligible but effort is what humans keep on practicing, even when angel comes over to let them see the world for the last time; they sweat to imbibe this and his look and her touch and so on .

I regretted few things, few decisions and few moments; and then as if my conscience slapped me right off.  Is this what I taught you? When you were docile enough and were trying to make sense with the strings and sticks and hitting and babbling; I interpose a lot, I worked on you and is this your return!?

I am glad that I never said it loud I smoked it lightly off my wisdom hood. And I know this transition will soon come to an end. Maybe I am over sensitive (and I am proud to be one because I surpass a lot of activity in between). May be just bad vibes and not necessarily a sinful person, I am.

Yesterday I reached home and suddenly I had a lot of pain, something that I couldn’t dodge. I thought this game over. And then the very next moment, I was normal. It was just tiny moment that made me sit on my knees and all my plans were off the scene completely.

We have a lot of things in our daily life, things that remind us of who we belong to. What we need to practice.
It’s just that I complaint why words are zipped off and emotions so fervent. Why is that we don’t know when and how things would occur and we overkill ourselves by intensify moments and moments into catastrophe.

If all bad vibes necessarily be act of punishment? Or mere testing of human to make them tougher to undergo toughness?

Forget everything! What makes you smile …something larger than life? :)

This post is dedicated to everyone who recently had bad times or unfortunately heading to one ; just drive the nail aright and be submissive. Rest upon who ran it so far. Don’t worry :)

don't forget to drink a lot of water; this is what doctor recommends me ;) 

Virtual Treat :

Monday, April 4, 2011

Men Señará - - -

She delves into the process of tamed silence …Its vague and assures that no goodness will come out of it.
It is tempting in its own way, takes you on the road which leads nowhere; at times it revolves in a curvature and still it profusely built the tempo. It doesn’t break ---it won’t. It’s like a flag of peace engraved after she took over it completely and at times it’s hidden and persuasive as if to watch your ego meshing up with everything but you.

She saw the snow melting down as a heart goes down after watching sun drooping down somewhere here and there… but her dual self laughs, sneering at everything yet she won’t say it. She took a pledge she won’t.

She sits over the rock to see where she dropped herself. In the rain drops that covered her up in mud or the autumn air that shreds all the leaves and she by the chance to be in catchy flow, entrapped herself in a twister.  

She is here--- lost, candid in everything but still cowardice is the only way she adopts to avoid every temptation.

She is at pause with herself ...her words deter to come out...mind yells aloud all names that are hidden in devious lines on her palm …wishing for the peace…rejuvenating little pebbles to throw one by one.
May be more aesthetically some day.

Just to spend a little more time and wishing you were here!!!

Catch this newly found addiction at :