Ephemeral pleasures, or are they?

"You've spoiled me; for anywhere else, anybody else. Do you know that?"

"What do I do now?"

"What do I do when all this ceases to be?"

"You never know, it might as well not."

"I know! And I've come to terms with it."

Remember when I asked you about that particular species of tropical plant, which I loved so dear to have it planted in my garden; but I could not because it could not thrive in this climate, in this environment.

I told you, it would die here; and then I asked you, if I should still plant it in my garden.

Remember what you said? You told me everything dies- a mother does not refuse to bear her child because one day he shall die. She simply does not do that. She, despite knowing that her child is not eternal, everlasting, and is but mortal, bears him, goes through all that agony to bring him to this world.

I told you I did not want that dear plant to die, just because of a whim of mine.

You told me, it wasn't sensible to choose to not do certain things in our lives out of mere fear of grim outcomes.

You told me, irrespective of how things might turn out, we do certain things only because they mean so much to us, and in return what we get are some very precious moments, memories.

So... I... rooted the plant.

I have come to terms with it.

I do not know, certainly, what I'd do when all this ceases to be, but... all I know, and all that matters right now, is that I'm collecting moments, memories; precious memories that would last for an eternity.

I'm not going to let even a single minute to go to waste.

There's so little time, so many memories to collect.

Better get back to work, shall we?

If my memory serves me right..

There used to be a tree.

Tall and beautiful. Lush and fragrant. It stood there, in that soil. With such remarkable majesty. Evergreen, t'was- never saw it shedding leaves, no sir. I never witnessed such a thing happening. The winds swirled around it like a silly lad head over heels in love. The rays of sun shined each day to caress its magnificence.

The tree, that survived the toughest of times; endured the harshest of seasons, the cruelest of storms.

Where is it now? Whatever happened, pray tell me?

The twinges portrayed in the tone of the query had it all, anxiety, inquisitiveness, apprehension, concern; everything.

A courteous, yet vapid smile crawled across your lips as you tried to recollect the past.

The sediments of bitterness were stirred to an abrupt awakening, and went berserk.

The tree... is no more.

You wished to your heart's core that your reply be adequate to satisfy the curiosity. However, the rather perplexed set of eyes before you depicted everything, save satisfaction.

A silent sigh escaped your lips, as you shook your head slightly.

The tree, you speak of my friend, happened to nest minuscule specks on its magnificent branches, which turned out to be some kind of seeds. Seeds that the naive winds brought along with them. Or perhaps, it was some of those wonderful birds that used to add a vibrant grandeur to that natural structure. I cannot say, for I was heedless in a certain manner. Too much bliss- it does that to you sometimes. 

I cannot say when they came, or where from. I cannot say how long they had been there. I only saw them when they showed themselves to me- and by then it was a little too late.

I became aware of their existence, only when they grew roots extending down from the branches. It was astonishing, or so I thought. I had never seen such a phenomenon before. They started growing aerial roots which twirled and twined around the trunk. 

I am afraid, I was ignorant and naive. I could not foresee. I did not see it coming. They were benign little seeds after all, that were to grow into benign creepers or vines perhaps. I did not know. I did not know what fate had in store.

The roots they coiled all around the tree. They grew; and they grew stronger and stronger, until they ended up strangling it. They killed my tree. 

What I perceived to be a harmless, if not mutually beneficial symbiosis turned out to be a figment of my foolish imagination, an illusion. An illusion that took away from me, for eternity, something that I cherished- rather, one of the only things I ever cherished. 

Those parasites...

The voice quavered, as if with overwhelmed emotions and a brief pause followed.

The words that followed were more nonchalant, and the tone firmer.

The tall, magnificent tree that you ask of, my friend, isn't here anymore. 

It's a memory now- A memory that, I am afraid, is fading away faster than I expected it to.

Of scents and sensibility

The sloth handed me an empty little bottle of scent a few days ago. Sloth's favorite scent, I reckon; it's some fragrance by Issey Miyake. 

-

There were times when I could not comprehend what you were, what your existence was. However, this very moment, as I snuggled into the arms of an airy fragrance that caressed my senses - the answer occurred to me, like an epiphany only.

Khushbu! Khushbu ho tum. Eik aisi mehsoor-kun khushbu jo hosh-o-khirad per kaabiz hojaye. Eik aisi khushbu jo wujood ke har ik issay mein bas jaye; jo khud wujood ka hissa ban jaye. Aisi khushbu jo alam-e-wajd mein le jaye; jo aas paas se beygaana kardey. Eik aisi khushbu jo dil-o-dimaagh ke nihaan khaanoun mein kahin chhup kar baith jaye.

Haan, haan khushbu he tou ho; jo saari fiza mein muntashir ho jaye; aur phir har guzartey lamhe ke saath madhum se madhum tar hoti chali jaye, yahan tak ke mukammal taur per ma'dooum hojaye. Wahi khushbu jo koi bhoola bisra khayal ban jaye. Aur jo kabhi ye khayal yaad-e-guzishta ke band kiwaar khol kar maazi ke dareechoun se jhaankay tou... eik mubham se muskurahat taskeen-e-jaan ka baa'is ban jaye. Phir jab yaadasht per gard-e-waqt ki teh dabeez se dabeez tar hoti chali jaye tou mehaz ik pareshan yaad ban jaye. Eik aisa khayal jiska suraagh na lagaya jasakay.

'Yeh khushbu... issay janta hon mein... bohat manoos si mehsoos hoti hai, magar... magar kuch yaad nahi parta...'

Eik aisi khushbu jo waqt ke saath saath sha'oor se nikal kar lasha'oor mein bas jaye, aur phir- lasha'oor ke ghannay jungloun mein raasta bhatak jaye- humesha humesha ke liye...

Haan bilkul aisi he khushbu ho tum. Eik hoshruba khushbu, jissay eik din mere lasha'oor ke jungloun mein kho jana hai- humesha ke liye.

Kaash iss khushbu ko kissi sheeshi mein qaid kiya jasakta.

The darkness, that swallowed me.

Why did I ever leave you? Why? And why did you let me go, back into those murky dark waters? Or may be you didn't. No. You didn't. You didn't let me go. I was the one who left you. I slipped out my hand from your hands. My love you for wasn't strong enough. My demons were stronger. I reverted back to the darkness that still thrived in some shady corners of my heart. The darkness took over me and swallowed my love for you with it.

My eyes were weak. The darkness that had grown on to me did not allow me to see the truth; the glory; you. I was foolish. I was ignorant. I was oblivious. I was walking farther and farther away from you, without even realising it. My mind did not recognise the darkness; my demons disguised it with light. My senses refused to even notice how dreary and grey this light was. And, so I kept walking.

My heart was silent. Silent as a grave. I realised not, that it was dying. Neither did I realise this silence to be the one that there is before a storm. So, I kept walking- into obscurity.

So, I kept walking- for days, and nights. I kept walking, until I it grew harder and harder for me to breath. Alas! The oblivion. I started gasping for air soon. Suffocated. I looked around, as if absurdly trying to see the air around me. I stopped. I had to. Every single muscle I moved seemed to rob me off the last bit of oxygen left in my blood. I inhaled as deep a breath as I could have, as if intending to inhale every single molecule of oxygen that was there around me. But, to no avail. There was none.

Panic started creeping into my skin. There was no air around me. I started gasping harder, louder and louder. My legs surrendered and brought me to ground. I was suffocating, right under an open sky. My heart raced faster, I could hear every single thud it made against my chest. My vision shrank. My head ached. Warm water seeped out of my eyes; eyes that had been dry ever since eons- it seemed. I was helpless, and alone.

The grey light grew dimmer and dimmer. I felt all walls closing in on me; except that there were no walls, anywhere. Fright penetrated the depths of my heart and then... And then, I thought of you. And then and only then, I realised my hand wasn't in yours. I tilted my head to look, tracking my eyes back on the path that I took here. My pupils dilated. Was it the shock, or the darkness? But what difference did it make? One or the same thing, weren't they?

There was no path. Only a haunting void. A vaccum. My heart stopped. My head fell back on ground. There was nothing. Except darkness. Above me. Below me. To my right. To my left. In every single direction, I saw it. Enveloping me, in itself. My body lay there on the ground, still as a corpse. The only thing negating death were my eyes, weeping; my lashes, shivering along with the eyelids. I wanted to scream- I had no voice. I wanted to call your name- I had no voice. All I wanted was to scream your name, but... I had no voice.

Two beautiful paths that diverge- one is mine. The other, isn't.

I'm walking down a path that is ever so wonderful. With dainty flowers lined up by the sides. It's all so pleasant, so pretty.

However, there's a twist. And what would life be without its infamous twists and turns? So yes, there's a twist- A turn, actually. A wrong one.

I took a wrong turn. This lovely pathway that I'm treading upon, I'm not supposed to be here. No, sir.

The path, where I should be is beautiful too. Very, indeed. It's almost as lovely as this one. But...

But, this one has my favourite flowers.

*shrugs with a helpless smile*

I shall have to walk back, and I will. But won't it be sad journey, my friend?

I see you looking away, dear friend. Don't. You need not. Look me in my eyes, and tell me that all of this, doesn't matter. Tell me that with my gold fish memory (or worse), I won't be able to remember these sights for very long . It's just a matter of time. Tell me, I'm being silly. You know I won't mind. Because, that's true.

And, don't worry. I'm not sad. There's not even a single good reason to be sad about. You don't have to feel bad about me. Because, there's no good reason for that too.

Thy beauty, is an evil spirit, my love.

They said you are beautiful, strikingly.

But you replied them not with gratefulness. Instead, a voice rose from within you; with an undertone of repugnance. And, all you wanted to do was... scratch your face and make it bleed. 

Why art thou sleeves stained red?

Trust is an amazing thing. You either have it or you don't. There's no third form.

They broke you, didn't they?

But it was for love and love only, my dear. They loved you-  and they wanted you. So badly. Therefore, they had to, my love.  They had to cut you. Cut you into a hundred little pieces so that they could have you to themselves only. And now, each one of them has an equally divided number- of your remains.

Do not misjudge, precious. It was but, for love only.

Broken, are we?

'Don't all of us carry a broken heart? Some are chipped while others are... severely fissured. Broken, nonetheless.'

I shall mend yours. One day, I shall. Until then, we'll have to wait. And wait, we shall.

The silent night, on whose thorax we laid. And, you whispered in my ears, with a gentle tone, the secrets of your past and present. And I heard, not just with my ears but through every single cell in my body.

Your voice grew heavier; burdened with the weight of your grief and your throat welled up. I listened. I listened as if this might as well be the last time I may hear a sound.

I tried to reach out to you but, all my opened arms met was... cold thin air. You were, but a faint voice that echoed in the silence of the night. You were, but a voice, my dear.

And who decides...

...what's real?

The extent you can go to, for the sake of returning to a place called home... Only to discover, that it isn't real and that you... are lost.

P.S. I just watched 'Inception'.

Reminiscences

The cold night seemed to penetrate each and every pore of his body. The darkness of it, the coldness of it, formed a part of him. The mist shrouded him; he went out of sight for a second, and the next he was there again, standing. Gazing out in the vastness, his eyes fixed at an invisible point. One wondered if there was something he could see through such darkness lit by the faded moonlight, in vain.

And then, as if after eons, there was a movement. The neck slightly arched upwards. The moon- it appeared as a glowing smudge against a black chalkboard. The strong breeze was tearing his sight, or was it the reminiscence? 

His grip on the iron railing grew stronger, the veins of his hands had suddenly become more obvious. His knees were perhaps refusing to hold his burden any longer. His lips were firmly pursed together. His brow very stern. His eyes growing warmer. His head bowed down and his eyes closed for the first time in ages.  A warm drop of salt water escaped the inner corner of his eye and settled on his hand, just above his knuckles. 

His eyes opened and caught the faint twinkle on his hand. A subtle but remorseful smile touched his lips. His head straightened back to the former position. His grip loosened. And, he gazed out in the vastness, his eyes fixed at an invisible point- yet again.

Somewhere nearby, a pair of brown eyes closed tightly in agony and a curtain fell down. 

*********************************

Phir khayalon mein tere qurb ki khusbu jaagi

Phir barasne lagi aankhain meri baadal ki tarah...

Voices inside my head...

They tell me... Yes. They tell me things that you don't know. That no one else does. Because you don't listen, do you? However, I do. And, they speak to me. I'm never alone. And, I am never quiet. Yes, my lips may seem still. Yet, I speak- with those voices inside my head. We talk about things. Things, that may be too commonplace for you. They aren't for us. Every thing has a story to tell, only if you're willing to listen.

Through the looking glass...

You are so beautiful...


So beautiful. Why did I not notice this before? How oblivious have I been to a reality as old as my existence. 


Face, bathing in a surreal glow. Eyes, so deep, so intriguing; with a twinkle borrowed from stars on a darkest night. Lips, carved into a perfect shape.

A silhouette stood before a looking glass, and smiled an entrancingly ethereal smile...

Absence

My dear, let me make this very clear for you. So, that there remains no doubt, no second thought. You are but just a single person amongst a pond of beloveds. Just a single person, you see. A VIP, although. However, a VIP amongst other VIPs, you see.

Your presence is overwhelming and you are very well aware. However, your absence- physical or mental- will eventually be curtained by those who are there- while you aren't. I shall be at a loss, but rest assured that it'd be momentary. Momentary, for me, that is.

I shall survive. And not just survive, I shall also be distracted. Happy, in other words. All of us shall live a very pleasant life hopefully. I'm certainly hopeful for myself at least, however about you, I don't seem to have any idea.

I've done my maths. You should do yours, my dear friend.

Evolution

Love. It isn't what it once used to be, is it?

It is a magnificent piece of literature that has lost its charm in translation.

A once-marvelous work of architecture that has lost its wonder at the hands of time. Now but a remnant suggesting a beautiful structure that once stood with all its air.

A holy scripture that has been adulterated over centuries. And now, is anything but close to its true sacred form.

A religion, once divine, recreated and corrupted by man. A religion that has been robbed off of all divinity and sanctity.

That my dear, is love as we know it.

Resonance... II

This is a continuation of a previous post - Resonance

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Empty places can create echoes of lasting clarity.

His voice echoed inside her heart. Bouncing off against the stoned walls, they died their own death. With every death, a new voice was born and soon the silence was replaced with harsh discordance. This piercing cacophony made it agonizing to remain silent any longer. However, the noises stared in awe realizing that their endeavours had merely managed to make her lips quiver. Shaking their heads, they decided to leave.

And the silence prevailed.

“I love you”
A faint whisper raised its head in some corner.
“Do I love him?”
A doubt roamed aimlessly inside her heart.
“Do I really love him any longer or has he just become a mundane matter?”
The whispers grew louder.
“Can you tell him that your heart is empty; that all your love has evaporated leaving nothing but a void?”
Someone sneered inside her.
“Stop it! Just stop it! I love him, I do.”
She yelled back.
“Is it so?”
The sneers turned into a loud scornful laughter.
Frightened he might hear the voices, she looked at him.

Her eyes met his for the first time. It seemed as if an eternity had passed by.

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Out of curiosity...

How would you feel if you found out that you were a mistake?

Yes, if you were nothing but a mistake. A mistake that cannot be undone. A mistake that cannot be compensated for. A mistake that is deemed to be a life long regret. A mistake whose burden you have to carry on your feeble shoulders for the rest of eternity. A mistake, my dear.

Listen to me, but not with thy ears...

Let's do something. Let's turn over a new leaf. Let's start a new beginning. Let's try- at least...

Look at them. Look inside their eyes. Although, their faces adorn a mask but their eyes are uncovered. Their faces, their veneers, their luring words might deceive you. But their eyes won't. They are pretty much helpless when it comes to those two wondrous mirrors that reflect what is inside and not the outside. They might paste a warm smile on their lips. They might dip their venomous words into honey before they pour it into your ears. They might stroke your wounded body gently feigning to soothe your pains while seeking the nerve that aches most, in effect. But they fail to conceal what their eyes persist on revealing. Even the eyes of a liar speak the truth, my love. Why don't you do yourself a favour? Stop lulling yourself into believing what you believe. Don't you realise how hollow your faith in them is? Trying knocking it and all you will ever hear is echoes that scream emptiness. Untie the blindfold of hopes that you wear. Untie it, my dear. And you will realise the gravity of the matter. Don't trust my words for they may seem too bitter for your tase but trust your eyes at least. Stop shunning the reality away. Realise how grave your mistake is. They are magicians, my love. They are playing tricks on you. It is but an illusion and nothing more. You are being fooled. Look into their eyes and tell me. Tell me honestly. Do you not see the contemptuous pity? Do you not see the scorn in those eyes. The twinkle that you take for affection is anything but that. It is a sneer. It is a smirk. The treacly words that you hear are but a poisonous potion for you. It is binding your ears into a spell so that you may hear what they want you to hear. So that when you turn around they can laugh at you like madmen while all you will hear in background will be seldom sobs of sympathy. They don't commiserate with you, my love. They pity you. They  mock you. Stop running towards them. It's about time you started running in the opposite direction. Stop ending up at their doorsteps in search for a salve for your wounds. But they tend to your wounds with such compassion, you say? Compassion? They tend to your wounds with poison! Compassion, you say! You are dying. Let me help you at least. Let me tend to your wounds. Let me heal you. Let me comfort you. Let me save you. There still might be some time. I might just find the right antidote for you. Let me try at least. Let me save you. You are dying. My precious, you are dying.

Hide and seek

I see you are wearing a cloak. Hiding something, are we? What could that be now? What could that be? C'mon now, my dear, tell me. You can tell me anything, you know right? I can keep your secrets- cross my heart. Haven't I kept all your sad little secrets uptil now? Haven't I? Tell me now. Or better wait- Let's play a game. A guessing game.

Hmm... So, a cloak made out of ice with a concrete lining, woven with fine threads of indifference, rudeness and detestation. That is indeed an odd choice for a cloak, my dear. Let me think now. Let me think. You are using this cloak as a disguise, aren't you? A disguise against the world. You don't want them to see who you really are or what you are made of. I know you are scared. But wearing a disguise- how can that help you? Listen to me. I know you are afraid. Afraid of being seen naked- without your cloak. But this is not you. Look at me. Your eyes. In them, used to reside those beautiful portraits of love and tenderness. And now, there sits a bird of pretentious aloofness stretching it wings and the seldom flutters notifying its presence every now and then. I also see anger sitting in the corners watering the Poison Trees it once planted- they have grown so quickly. I see skepticism, sarcasm, disbelief, abomination and repulsion. I also see a dim flame of fear flickering in the background. This is not you. This cloak you wear has buried you somewhere deep inside. I know you are somewhere down there. You are afraid of getting hurt? Does all this protect you from the wounds that you fear. No! No, it does not. The blows continue to bruise you. Your wounds continue to bleed. So why use a disguise that is of no use at all? Why? This is not an armour, my love, that you wear. It is merely a camouflage. It might be made of ice or of concrete but somehow the spears permeate through it. This does not save you from the agony that frightens you. However, there is one thing. This mask that you wear hides your wounds. It hides the scars. It succeeds in portraying a false impression of your strength. It succeeds in fabricating your vulnerability into indifference. It succeeds in hiding your tears. If that is what you want- a camouflage. But why pretend? Why not expose your wounds, your bruises to those who inflicted them upon you. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Let them know of their ruthlessness. Let them know- for it is they and they only, who hold the antidote for your poisonous wounds. Only the hands that stabbed you can heal you, my love. 

And that, my dear, is the tragedy of your life.

It makes me bleed

Watching you cripple like this. Watching you burn like this. Watching you drown like this. Watching you crumble like this. When I see the streaks of blood dripping down your face. When I see them stabbing you and ripping you into pieces. When I see you sewing your wounds again. When I see them tearing your freshly sewn wounds again. When I see you falling apart.

When I see myself looking at you. When I look around with hopeless hopes. When I find myself helpless- To heal you, to mend you, to wipe away those bloody tears, to extinguish the fire that burns you, to protect you- When I find myself powerless. When I discover that a paralysis has taken over me. When I discover that it will not let go off me.

When I see you crying out in agonizing pain. When I see myself staring at you with a misty vision. When I see you look at me with pleading eyes. When I see myself unable to alleviate your pain, your sorrows. When I see the plea in your eyes evolving into rage and despise. When I see myself turning my gaze away from you. And while I am turning my gaze away, I catch a glimpse of a smirk running across your lips. When I see my lips pursing against each other. When I see myself shutting my eyes tightly. When I turn my back towards you. When I feel your stare burning my back with abomination.

It makes me implode into a thousand little pieces- with helplessness, with pain, with sorrow, with shame.

Each splinter piercing deeper and deeper through my flesh, through my soul.

Until it makes me bleed.

(May Allah forgive those who died in the crash and may He provide those who mourn them with sabr-e-jameel. May their souls rest in peace- Ameen)

Hum gard-e-safar, hum naqsh-e-kadam...

"Sometimes you run away only to see who is running after you..."

So you too, my dear, ran away. But no one followed. Nobody ran after you to stop you. But you kept running, hoping against hopes. You kept running because you were afraid to stop by and look back- only to find the dusty trail left by your own sorry self. You kept running until your knees refused to move you any further. You kept running until your lungs refused to spare you even a quarter of  a breath. You kept running until your heart could not beat any harder. You kept running until there was not a single bit of oxygen left in your body to spare. And then- you stopped. Your knees protested against your weight, gave up and you fell to the ground. You felt a line of a searing liquid trickling down your face and vanishing into the dusty ground. Someone spoke inside in a whisper, wanting to take a chance, wanting to look back only to find someone behind you. You scolded the meek voice that rose its head and the whisper scurried away. There was silence now. A deathly silence , that prevailed. All of a sudden, the same whisper rose again. And then another and another until there was a deafening cacophony of whispers. You covered your ears to shut out the dissonance only to find out that the noise came from not outside but from within your own self. You screamed with all that was left of you in an attempt to crush the noise inside. And you failed. Your scream sounded nothing but like a feeble mumble that was never meant to be heard. You felt the damp warmth on your face again and soon the dust on your face had been washed away by your tears. You did not want to look back because you knew. You knew that looking back would turn you into stone- just as in those Alif Laila Tales you once heard. However, you did not have any other option, did you? You had to look back. You body refused to carry you any further. The screaming whispers had now turned into sharp shrills that pierced your soul and the only way to stop them was to look back. So, you looked back. To your surprise, you did not turn into a stone. You focused your gaze to the view that long awaited you. Your tears had blurred your sight so you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and tried to focus again. And you saw.

What did you see, my precious? What did you see?

*************************************

Hum Gard-E-Safar Hum Naqsh-E-Kadam 

Hum Soz-E-Talab Hum Tarz-E-Fugaa'n 

Hum Ranj-E-Chaman Hum Fasl-E-Khizaa'n 

Hum Hairat-O-Hasrat Yaas-O-Alam 

Hum Dasht-E-Junuun K Soda'ee 

Ye Dasht-E-Junuun Ye Pagalpan 

Ye Pecha Kerti Ruswa'e 

Ye Ranj-O-Alam Ye Huzn-O-Malaal 

Ye Nala-E-Shab Ye Soz-E-Kamaal 

Dil Mein Kahin Benaam Chuban 

Aur Hadd-E-Nazar Tak Tanha'i 

Hum Dasht-E-Junuun K Soda'ee 

Ab Jaan Humari Chotay Bhi 

Ya Dasht-E-Junuun Hi Thak Jaye 

Jo Roh-O-Badan Ka Rishta Tha 

Ka'ee Saal Hoye Wo Toot Gaya 

Ab Dil Ka Dharakna Ruk Jaye 

Ab Saans Ki Dori Tootay Bhi 

Hum Dasht-E-Junuun K Soda'ee