Yeh ghum jo iss raat ney diya hay,
Yeh ghum sehr ka yaqee'n bana hay;
Yakee'n... jo ghum se kareem tar hay,
Sehr... jo shab se azeem tar hay.
This is closest one can get to life. Faiz in his poetry, unlike many others, has successfully found that elusive pulse between truth and fantasy; between pain and ecstasy. And he has often, then not, managed to keep his finger on it. It is often, then not, difficult in life to make these distinctions, isn't it? No matter where I look today, past present or future, the dots connect both ways, like a symphony both bitter and sweet. Co-existence is one of the most important lessons one learns in life; that success and failure can come and exist together. And then one fine day, just as you would know, they both let you go. You die. To me personally, the quest to understand realm and fiction in their isolation seems like a mistaken notion, as I feel both are weaved with hope and distress. Hope and distress, in their purest forms feature both in my reality and dreams. One time or the other. Sometimes my reality does seem brighter than my dreams.
But I cannot claim the universality of this belief of mine, as I understand it may not always hold ground. In fact, a lot of times I feel this belief gives birth to restlessness. To organize is so vital to keep both.
I often, more than before, think about my father these days. Separation continues to be my biggest fear. Somehow, missing you makes me miss him as well. But unlike you, he does not come on Skype, his voice, never to be heard again. What time does to memories is strange. Each passing day, both adds in and takes away memories; we truly live the Theseus's paradox. And one day you meet a sudden realization that you are beginning to lose your father's voice in your head. You think you know it but you are not sure anymore. Today when I think about the time when we used to have dinner together, every single night, discussing politics and sports and movies, I find it extremely difficult, almost unbelievable that he, in his physical form, does not exist anymore. Where is he? He continues to live with us, in us, through his values and ideals, somewhere on the very fine line between truth and fiction.
Often, I think of him when I see my mother smile. I think of him, when I see you smile. Our arguments remind me of my arguments with him, the way I tell you about movies, he used to tell me.
I realize one day I will lose more people, a thought that makes me really sad. More than the happiness of meeting new people. I realize both will happen one day, that I will lose and gain more people, that I will be sad and happy.
Tonight, as I sit here alone in my room, engulfed in such abstractions, I find one thought of more value, one thought more urgent than the others. This journey has brought me to a familiar junction, a realization that love should be always be expressed. As many times, in as many ways, as you want to. As randomly as you feel like. Just as I do not have any idea if whatever I have written or thought previously tonight has any connection(s) to it. A culmination, a climax which may not be as relevant to the story, but certainly as important as the story. Perhaps our stories will always remain incomplete without this expression of love. Perhaps my story with my father remains incomplete. I thought we still have much time left.
So, here I am, once again tonight, saying what I say very often. I love you. With all my heart. Every minute spent with you is special. I look forward to see your face everyday, literally waiting.
I love you.
Noor
Yeh ghum sehr ka yaqee'n bana hay;
Yakee'n... jo ghum se kareem tar hay,
Sehr... jo shab se azeem tar hay.
This is closest one can get to life. Faiz in his poetry, unlike many others, has successfully found that elusive pulse between truth and fantasy; between pain and ecstasy. And he has often, then not, managed to keep his finger on it. It is often, then not, difficult in life to make these distinctions, isn't it? No matter where I look today, past present or future, the dots connect both ways, like a symphony both bitter and sweet. Co-existence is one of the most important lessons one learns in life; that success and failure can come and exist together. And then one fine day, just as you would know, they both let you go. You die. To me personally, the quest to understand realm and fiction in their isolation seems like a mistaken notion, as I feel both are weaved with hope and distress. Hope and distress, in their purest forms feature both in my reality and dreams. One time or the other. Sometimes my reality does seem brighter than my dreams.
But I cannot claim the universality of this belief of mine, as I understand it may not always hold ground. In fact, a lot of times I feel this belief gives birth to restlessness. To organize is so vital to keep both.
I often, more than before, think about my father these days. Separation continues to be my biggest fear. Somehow, missing you makes me miss him as well. But unlike you, he does not come on Skype, his voice, never to be heard again. What time does to memories is strange. Each passing day, both adds in and takes away memories; we truly live the Theseus's paradox. And one day you meet a sudden realization that you are beginning to lose your father's voice in your head. You think you know it but you are not sure anymore. Today when I think about the time when we used to have dinner together, every single night, discussing politics and sports and movies, I find it extremely difficult, almost unbelievable that he, in his physical form, does not exist anymore. Where is he? He continues to live with us, in us, through his values and ideals, somewhere on the very fine line between truth and fiction.
Often, I think of him when I see my mother smile. I think of him, when I see you smile. Our arguments remind me of my arguments with him, the way I tell you about movies, he used to tell me.
I realize one day I will lose more people, a thought that makes me really sad. More than the happiness of meeting new people. I realize both will happen one day, that I will lose and gain more people, that I will be sad and happy.
Tonight, as I sit here alone in my room, engulfed in such abstractions, I find one thought of more value, one thought more urgent than the others. This journey has brought me to a familiar junction, a realization that love should be always be expressed. As many times, in as many ways, as you want to. As randomly as you feel like. Just as I do not have any idea if whatever I have written or thought previously tonight has any connection(s) to it. A culmination, a climax which may not be as relevant to the story, but certainly as important as the story. Perhaps our stories will always remain incomplete without this expression of love. Perhaps my story with my father remains incomplete. I thought we still have much time left.
So, here I am, once again tonight, saying what I say very often. I love you. With all my heart. Every minute spent with you is special. I look forward to see your face everyday, literally waiting.
I love you.
Noor
