Islamabad- Murree - 2008
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
You're different. She isn't like you. You're a bloody selfish voyeur and she, she collects pebbles. At the beach. Her salvation lies somewhere around that mark by end of the road. And she knows. What about you? Does your singularity give space to that thought? A notion of your deliverance, your mukti?
Monday, July 27, 2009
"My dear master, explain red to somebody who has never known RED."
"If we touched it with the tip of a finger, it would feel like something between iron and copper. If we took it into our palm, it would burn. if we tasted it, it would be full-bodied, like salted meat. If we took it between our lips, it would fill our mouths. If we smelled it, it'd have the scent of a horse. If it were a flower, it would smell like a daisy, not a red rose."
My Name is Red - Orhan Pamuk
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Love is like fire. It goes through, lightening burdens... burning identities. Crossroads in our lives divulge so many options to us. Disclosing eternity seems an ultimate fantasy for every vanquisher. But has one ever thought, winners can have an other dimension to them as well? Vanquishers defeat but winners can win without ruining lives. Winners are absorbed in their own way of doing things. They have that delirium that 'masti' that doesn't let them go and lose themselves in that mob of mediocrity and ruthless defeaters. Winners defeaters, defeaters the conquerors.
I soundly believe that 'perfection' only exists when you're in love. I believe love is one expression, which can make one, even for a blink of second feel like attaining perfection. Yes! Logic won't understand it since it randomizes expressions and seeks anomalies. Logicians don't realize what that mere second can instill... and they don't know what follows it. Perfection resides in delirium. Lives with extreme passion.
Perfection is achieved when anomalies are ignored.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Almost 17 million people live in this city. Every single person occupied in emotions and thoughts beyond himself. Every single soul engulfed and entrapped in thousands of narratives; those twisting tales of sorrow and ecstasy, of truth and fantasy, of realm and plain mediocrity. 'Rest in Peace' written as a PS while rest of the page, the core script is meticulously coated with watermark saying 'Live in Pieces'. How would you react when the questions asked are not about yourself? Which one would you answer if you hear voices from every possible dimension, crying for help? How many faces could you identify? How many stories could you hear? How many questions you could answer? How many questions you could raise? How could you identify originality? How could you identify yourself?
Hmmmm.. Living in a metro can be an incredible experience. A close-in encounter with sharp contrasts. A continuous rally of occasions and incidences that shape your life in every sense. This fact; some of us realize it, some of us simply know it. I, like anyone of us, have had such remarkable experiences all through my life. Pieces that triggered decisive turns and made me think and feel in unseen, forgotten dimensions. You might have seen some yourself also.
Some time back, I was having chai at a local roadside dhaba with a friend and his cousin. Older and bigger than us, he happened to be at some rank in the army. We were on with our weird usual discussion when we heard noises coming from the other side of the road. Two fruit waalas, on an unknown issue were on the ground, in dust, beating hell out of each other.
Friend: "What is happening? Why such mob?"
Noor: "What? They are fighting, beating each other!"
Friend: "Oh, I think we should stop them..."
Friend's Cousin: "What? Leave it.."
Friend (Sarcastically): "Saaley you're a soldier! You got to do it "
Cousin: Chutiya hai? Let them fight. Aik dusrey ko peeth kar thandey hojayein gey.. Agar roka na tou ghar ja kar apni biwion par gussa nikalein gey.. harami!
Few may think of us as 'cowards' for doing nothing. May be. That should be one way to look at it. Certainly, in a city as big as ours, its just ONE WAY.