Dukey!

A lil over 2 months of complete absence, and am finally back here. An aloof, unintended departure, leaving probably no one waiting. Just around 114 published posts over 3 years isn't very heartening I know but what to do. I can't afford words every night. It isn't that I don't love it anymore. Nope, I still believe its one way to revitalize my existence, a proper formal linear pattern where I can entertain all those sexy myths and philosophies.

But there is one thing. Something. You know.. am growing. Just like you.

Khair, a major transition expected in next 2 months. Gearing up for it.

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Physically, Spiritually, Emotionally, Mentally, Metaphysically, Metaphorically... Any...

Are you with me?

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Do you think I care?

Image: Healzo - Devianart

Pump IT!

183cm, 158lbs... that's my physical worth. Yeah yeah, you can go on tallying those uncongenial elements and glorify imprecision. Yes you can really do that. Somehow with time, I have developed [perhaps intentionally] this very proclivity for criticism. It's an interesting phenomenon and it keeps people busy. Just a close look to understand that unpredictable actions would generate unpredictable reactions, often volatile. Sometimes they like it, sometimes they don't. But almost every time they have something to say. Its a hobby and I find it exciting to hear what people say. I love to draw a line on the canvas and let others sketch around it. Now this is one BIG idea... one would not get shattered or demoralized by UN-called criticism if he gets this. It's about the line, not about the being who drew it.

I find it quite amusing. Time and time again, I deliberately do things that would provoke them and aggravate their cravings for criticism. Time and time again, I draw something basic over a blank page and move ahead... leaving those saintly pseudos and minnows busy.

Anyone can do it. You just got to be strong, and bouncing and funny. By choice. Its shining everywhere!

Image: nocturnalMOTH - Deviantart

Dhan Ta Nan

Revolutionists, capitalists, socialists, 14th August nationalists... fans of Zaid Hamid, Zakir Naik and Beyonce... Hajis and moulvis and percussionists... Strippers of Madonna and guardians of Sakeena.. Jeans with light kurta and heels in tight burqa... Lesser humans, greater angels... Whiter blacks and blacker whites...

I think I've said too much... but haven't said it all.

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Urdu is my national language, English is the official. Provincially, I'm Sindhi and religiously I'm an Arab. My mother comes from a Bengali-Urdu background and my father speaks Gujarati. I'm learning French and sometimes like to watch Hindi movies...

Sounds Wow?

Tell me, isn't it a shame that I don't have command even over ONE of these languages?

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We are good people, I don't question this. And I agree that culture is a blend of so many dimensions... but aisa bhi kiya!


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I believe, what we take... doesn't shape our destiny,

What we leave...

Does.

Nature and the Answers!

Islamabad- Murree - 2008

Yes?

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?

RED

"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

Perfect Anomalies

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.