Floating In Time

My thoughts are like feather,
My sadness a construct of time,
I tried to see your point of view,
But I am afraid you couldn’t see mine,

What floats light,
Is the relationship we built over time,
Battered by the winds as a test,
Time and time again, wisps by a strand,

Each beating of my heart is a punch through and through,
My darling, won’t you walk me through?
Another day to strip the soul,
In debt to your ways of flawless disguise.

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Mai Bhoolna Nahe Chahta

Kafan tau maine bhi bahut uthaye hain,
Aansu bahaye hain, dilasa liya hai,
Janazai k waqt kafan par phool bhi daalay hain,
Magar phooloun ka janaza uthana kaisa maajra hai?

Wo kehtay hain thora ro lo,
Ghum tau halka hojaye ga,
Tumhara dard thora tham Jaye ga,
Magar shayad samajhte nahe ye,

Mai bhoolna nahe chahta,
Is dard ko thamna nahe chahta,

In aansuon ne baras kar dil halka kar dena hai,
Mai bhoolna nahe chahta,

Mera bhoolna banta bhi nahe.

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I feel guilty . . . I feel guilty for being silent for so long. Not anymore. Never again.

Hamesha mai ne apni zabaan rok li,
Hamesha jab waqt aan parta tha,
Sochta tha meri khamoshi mera hathyaar hai,
Yahan log tau sab nadaan hain,

Kya larun kisi se?
Izhar e khiyaal he tau jurm hai,
Mai nahe lar sakta,
Khamosh rehna he behtar hai,

Isi khamoshi k siharay khud ko dilasa deta raha,
Sab sahe hai, sab sahe hai,
Laikin lahu tipakta raha,
Mai dekhta raha, sochta raha,

Laikin meri khamoshi barkarar rahi,

Waqt baid giya, halaat bigarhtay rahai,
Mujhe aksar laga k lab azaad karne chahye,
Laikin phir sochta k kisi aur mauqai pai karein gai,
Aur isi tarha meri khamoshi barkarar rahi,

Laikin kal chand gharoun k chiraagh hamesha k liye bujh Gaye,
Lahu beh giya un pyaray phooloun ka,
Mera dil cheekh k bola,
Ab tau lab azaad kar de Hasan,

Magar ab alfaaz nahe thai,
Meri khamoshi ne mujhe he khamosh kar diya tha,

Ab log kehtai hain k maar do Jo zimaydaar hai,
Ye kaisa insaan hai?

Magar mai khamosh raha,
Aakhir zimaydaar tau mai bhi houn,
Meri khamoshi mera jurm hai.

Aj ghar se phir khamosh nikla houn,
Aankhoun mai aansu hain,
Dil bahut bhaari hai,
Laikin sharmindagi sar pai taari hai,

Moun chupa k, khamoshi se nikla houn Aj,
Aakhir zimaydaar tau mai bhi houn,
Meri khamoshi mera jurm hai.

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Symbols, Chains and Monsters

My chain of thoughts is broken,
Symbols swim around as the meanings pass me by,
Stealing a glance I hope a familiar face stops by,
But not today,

Today is the day of monsters,
Monsters that are running amok,
Telling their tales of destruction,
From the men of God to the God of men,

Notorious, nefarious,
Remain symmetrical,
Its a delicacy,
In this world of monsters,
Don’t blink!

Too late . . .

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The Creed I Believe In

Disclaimer – This post is heavily inspired from song titles by Creed which wasn’t intentional but a welcome addition when I later realized what had happened.

Take a hurt, wounded soul and let it find its way. Broken and crippled, it will struggle along its path taking more hits on its journey, having little reason to carry on but it does not yield.

Oh, it does not yield.

Torn and in its own prison, it struggles against a faceless man while pondering whats this life for – a plethora of questions that take its own toll on the conscious and the being of the soul.

Lost and confused it gets weaker by the day but yet, somehow, it manages to soldier on. Even when lost and weathered, it knows of a force that resides inside us all.

But it wasn’t always like this. One can say there was a time when it thought it had reached its peak. Heads turned, compliments flowed, its genius was awed by the masses and it was well known throughout. Everyone seemed to have its back and it did not feel alone.

But was it?

Its funny how sometimes things tend to fall just when one thinks everything is in order. The people who seemed to ever present slowly seemed to fade away; the mind that was always at peace now was battling questions about the present and what was to come; the heart grew restless as it sensed an impending change. The soul knew it was only a matter of time but it was easier to ignore the signs than fall into the pit just yet.

But everyone has to.

The battles are different for everyone. What starts as a murmur grows into a crescendo, a deafening noise that becomes too much to take. One can run away from it but till when?

The moment when one takes the plunge is the scariest of them all, however, that is all it is – a moment. The fear hits home and just when it seems one might not be able to soak in the pressure any longer, its over.

Its always like this – the fear, the illusion and finally – realization.

Realization that soul can soak up more dirt and yet keep on its journey. Once one realizes that, they have come full circle on their journey.

We all are on a journey and everyone has a different path to climb the mountain, however, one needs to be open to accommodate the good and the bad. It is important to remember – the feelings and moments are temporary,

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Rumi, The Guest House)

So just when the soul is about to give up, it sees a light up ahead and it pulls itself together once more and is on its way. Mustering its strength once more, wiping the sweat from its brow, it prepares itself for another assault and with its tired legs it rolls on once more. Its support is its never dying will – don’t forget that; it wont let you down,

An old man by a sea shore at the end of day
Gazes the horizon with sea winds in his face.
Tempest-tossed island, seasons all the same.
Anchorage unpainted and a ship without a name.

Sea without a shore for the vanished one unheard
He lightens the beacon, light at the end of world.
Showing the way, lighting hope in their hearts,
The ones and their travels homeward from afar.

This is for long-forgotten light at the end of the world.
Horizon’s crying the tears he left behind long ago.

The albatross is flying, making him daydream
The time before he became – one of the world`s unseen
Princess in the tower, children in the fields –
Life gave him it all: an island of the universe.

Now his love`s a memory, a ghost in the fog.
He sets the sails one last time saying farewell to the world.
Anchor to the water, seabed far below,
Grass still in his feet and a smile beneath his brow.
(Nightwish, The Islander)

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Me, Revolution and I

“The revolution. Ever since the storming of the Bastille, the West has been living a lie called revolution. Ever since that day, this equivocal word has captured out minds like a holy word, to such a degree that it ends up being a synonym of liberty-equality-fraternity, a symbol of redemption and progress, hope for the oppressed.

Ever since that day, the massacres committed in the name of revolution have been forgiven, justified and accepted, the fact that its children are butchered after having butchered has been accepted. The idea that revolution is the cure for every cancer, a panacea for every illness, has been accepted. We still pronounce this word with respect, we respectfully study it, we respectfully analyze it in political and philosophical treatises.

Our respect for the word ‘revolution’ is so great that we dare not contest it. refute it, unmask it and spit it back in the face of the imbecilic and violent people who use it to advance their careers.” – Oriana Fallaci, Interviews with History

Timeless words from a journalist who spent her life in the middle of revolutions all over the world. Her insight thus makes this bit pertinent for what has been going on lately as well.

Pakistan stands at a crossroads – a new sort of revolution is being touted but no one seems to understand the cost of the revolution if it does come around.

A revolution is not bloodless nor its a cause for celebration.

Rarely does it favor the masses but the disillusionment does exist that the revolution will lead to a pastures anew. Pakistan’s political history, like history in general, is a case of circles. After a few years, one simply comes full circle. One sees the same politicians, the same stories but the narrative has been tweaked to address the current status of the issue.

It was the military then, it is the military now. Religion was a driving factor then, it remains a factor now. Politicians may have died but the dynasties remain. A new face springs up with new hope but then their agenda turns out to be driven by naivety than wisdom – Makes one remember the times of Zohra Fona and Pir Sipahi (atleast their stories provided some entertainment) (link – http://www.thenews.com.pk/Todays-News-9-104199-Holy-phoonk)

There is a need to look at the bigger picture, take a step back and just look at what else has been going on in the past week – ISIS is distributing pamphlets in Peshawar, girls are not allowed to study in schools in Balochistan and religious outfits are threatening families to send their children to madrassas only to study, sectarian violence is reaching new peaks of ignorance, the economy is taking a beating and Pakistan is lacking in inventions, innovations and patents while our neighbors overtake us in science and technology – are these not causes for concern and thought?

Why grant a yard of grace to the puppets playing in the capital after all the puppet masters live elsewhere?

Change does start from home and it won’t come about when the nation spills out in the streets – that always favors a select class who isn’t even at the forefront while the rest – the nameless, the blameless but the misdirected are butchered in the name of the holy revolution.

There is an urgent need to strive to educate oneself and become opinionated but not jaded by the occurrence of events, A revolution will not be the answer – its not just the system that needs to get replaced, its the foundation of thought that accompanies it as well.

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Another Day, Another Way

My mind is in its sense of shame,
As I physically go down this hole in vain,
Buried by this weight of the unknown,
The gift is the saddest part of this shroud,

When hell breaks loose above, 
I am not safe in the depths below as I strafe,
Losing control of this fight,
My wings fail me as they take off in to the sun,
up, up and away,

I missed the days when opportunity beckoned to me,
Can I cry when I have been so denied?
Softly, I walk away, 
The darkness remains, 

Tomorrow we try again. 

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