Rendezvous with Innocence

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 35; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "...and the world was silent again"

The face glowed like a shimmering ray of hope. Her expressions were so pure. It was as if the the earth had come to a stop. 

With his scotch pouring within and rings of smoke in the air, Jeh 's eyes were just too focused at the car parked below. The car was not something which had captured his imagination , but it was someone seated inside. With her hands  against the window pane and her tongue stuck out she was giving every by passer a hard time. Every one gazed at her , someone just stood still while others moved on . And there among all this stood Jeh , staring from his apartment window. 

Then their eyes met and the tale began . Looks exchanged, expressions changed and the correspondence started. She pointed in a strict manner towards the rings he formed, Jeh's heart melted and he put away the cigar. She smiled and immediately began to search her pocket . Jeh was completely confused as to what she was searching. Out came a dairy milk. The lady next to her persuaded but she was not the one who would give up . Finally she won. Opening up with immense care she cherished every bit of it. Then teasingly she ate it. The whole site was so exuberant that Jeh was left amazed. She continued to tease Jeh till the last bit. He sipped his wine with an unusual smile on his face.  

With a sense of comfort drawing in, even Jeh began to respond. With great effort and little success he tried to converse in some sort of sign lingo. Forming ducks and dogs, birds and bears , God knows what not. But this did not amuse her and like a typical girl she nodded and gave everything a pass. Alas! he scratched his head in despair and this was sufficient to make her laugh.

Just when a bond had almost been formed, the door opened and she rushed back to the rear seat of the car. Suddenly everything came to life and there was a buzz around. It was time to move apart. The cute, young and charming girl, moved her head back and with her small hand made a sign , a goodbye kiss for Jeh. For the mesmerized onlooker  a moment of bliss had passed and the world was silent again. 

Just the music played on 

            " Har vehle....., mere mehbooba ,

           Tenu taqda raha , eho ji karda "
      

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: `10

Drizzle

Tip toed she walked 

With measured steps on the rooftop

Tiny drops were trickling down 

Dripping her suit , yet see looked so beautiful. 

If anything captured my imagination  

On that cold Sunday afternoon 

It was my encounter, that etched a mark  

never to be lost for a lifetime to come. 

She was so angel like yet so human 

With both her feet clamping on the concrete floor 

With her hands raised she murmured a tune 

The words of which I could hardly hear 

But then I was so lost to hardly make out even where I was 

Least  bothered of  what she sang , I was completely spellbound.  

Suddenly there was this surprising joy within me 

And across my lips was a smile that had been so lost .

Dripping down getting wet

I could not voluntary move a muscle 

It was as if I had been chosen 

To witness a miracle 

Yet even before I could come to my sense

Even before I could ask her something 

Out came a deep cry 

A metaphoric yet so real 

Somewhere deep within it was the heart that smiled 

Sometimes its just a mirage 

Defeated as in war I sat 

With a hand on my head and other reaching my heart 

It ached a lot 

As some memories can never go 

So as the drizzle turned a bit more 

I took peace in naming her Zaira 

Probably a myth or mystic of some sort 

Whose presence eludes me a lot 

I wish if it would be more simple , and not an enigma after all.

                                 

                                   aah ko chaahiye ik 'umr asar hone tak

                                  kaun jeeta hai teree zulf ke sar hone tak 

Afloat

Man's worst fear in life could be accounted as the loss of hope. A hope , which might have served the purpose of the loose string pulling the man through the turbulent tides of life. Rattled with waves , he wishes or believes that this hope would serve the purpose of keeping him afloat.
                               
But sometimes it just all seems to back fire. When we look above for the glimmer of sunshine but instead our eyes meet the raindrops pouring from the dark clouds above. When in the exam hall we wish that a little more scratching would get us the missing link between the equations. While sitting on a reclining chair , holding a phone hoping the other person to pick up and talk. While riddled with self doubt , acute nervousness before the critical presentation or interview , hoping that it would all go of well. And practically every morning hoping that the day would go off well.

But what happens when the hope fails to get the desired results ? What happens when our fear turns to reality and probably the nightmare of our dreams becomes a living present ? What happens when we finally loose hope and begin to retreat on our conquest ? This trait may often be associated with the coward minds , but we all look up to something. Every single person  among us ,in their own special way ask some unparalleled force in this world to support their cause and fulfill their wish. Some get their answers, well others walk in the wilderness, seeking answers to their questions. But then it all leaves a doubt how long one can hold on to this rope , we all call hope ?

I am remembered of one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite movies  ' Shawshank Redemption', The hot shot banker Andy Dufresne writes a note for his friend in which he says " Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things and no good things ever die."

But at the same time I am also reminded of an opinion of one of the great philosopher's of all times Nietzsche that " Only if man is able to face this ultimate negation of all hope and aspiration, only if he displays the heroism of affirming the ultimate limit to all existence can he prove his ethical mettle." 


Question is , what helps you stay afloat ?

Blank Pages

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 28; the 28th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'BLANK PAGES'.

The more u brood the more your life  stretches towards oblivion. True it seemed , as Jeh could experience it right now. Standing on the edge , with his body partially bent over the balcony of his terrace, no wonder what crazy thoughts were triggering the neurons in his brain.

Overlooking the crowded streets beneath , he gasped for air then finally he took a call. He was not ready yet again. Gasping for some more oxygen to rejuvenate his blood vessels, he made a dash for his mobile. Probably a last call. But the attempt went in vain. Sulking like a kid , denied his candy, he threw up. One could practically think of plenty of reasons what had caused all of this, but it lacked a definitive answer. Shutting his eyes, he sobbed on and on. His cries though loud, yet not horrific to ring any alarming bells for the residents downstairs. He finally sat down on the cold and harsh concrete floor. It all felt the same to him and the dawning sun of November , seemed to dawn upon him the end of his life.

Summing it all up in a go in his unified memory , he could relate his life to a single word, failure. Struggling his way from the refugee camp across the border during partition , the making ends meet life during his college and everything had given him nothing in return. He had tried , but probably not enough.He was employed yet unemployed in every sense. He lacked the sense of belonging that every human being ever yearned for. Stability was a gift of distant future, a future whose existence was extremely remote. His dreams that propelled him , had practically backfired. He had lost his love due to his selfish nature. His life was a sum total zero, where nothing existed in the true sense.

Indeed that was the time, Jeh's eye fell on the growing clouds above. Among them he could see the light of the sun fading out. He hoped if he could sent a signal through this light to that single one. If he could convey that why not we erase it all and let the memory fade away. Why couldn't we erase it all and leave some blank pages in the diary of our brain. Pages with nothing smeared on them at all, which could be filled with fresh hope. Why couldn't these blank pages be refilled with a new vigor to make things better once and for all. But then this was just a long shot. Things probably could never be undone.

And as Neruda once said
 “Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.” 

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Struggle

' Impossible is Nothing ' !
An adage that has riddled many among us. An adage that seems to fit most aptly to the sports community, but in the real sense finds application in all spheres of life. Whether its studies,  dreams, relationships or who knows what permutations and combinations can be attached to this adage. One would fall short of examples but this quote has withstood the test of time, in the true sense.
As a child is born , as he grows up he is made to believe that within himself he holds the immense potential , the power to turn every dream into reality. No matter how distorted it may be , but iff he was ready to believe in himself nothing was unattainable. And once he was convinced that yes this is the truth , he would move on , with his spirits held high , ushering through a crowd of non believers, skeptics to reach his final destination thoroughly believing that God/Force had in its earnest desire wished him luck to fulfill his dream. He believes its his destiny to achieve it. And he moves on with a single purpose , a purpose to fulfill his destiny.
           But then life like year passes through several seasons. Soon the child grows into his teens and attains the age of complexities. Suddenly he realizes how distorted or misunderstood his dreams were. How complicated the path to achieve them is and how wrong he has been all along. Suddenly the fire in the belly seems to backfire and the passion turns head over heels to make his life a mixing pot of complexities. He begins to make his own permutations and combinations only to end up with fruitless result that his dream was a hoax. Suddenly the voice of the skeptics seems to overpower his inner voice. His desires are corrupted and loose the innocence of childhood. It becomes difficult for him to stand up to situations and his inner demons , lack of self belief begin to rule his decision making skills. Sooner or later he finds comfort in giving up and hanging up his boots. He finds solace in accepting the fact that it was never in his destiny to fulfill his desires and his past karma was probably so ruined that all his attempts no matter how hard he try would go in vain. Point is he ends the struggle.
A phase like this comes and go in everyone's life. Some find it best to surrender themselves to the will of God/Force , while some just stop living at all. A handful continue to struggle along. The only difference is that , how strongly one believes in his dreams. One is always uncertain about the outcome of his struggle and what his destiny holds. But then if ever given a chance should we not prefer standing by something which is something of our own creation ?  As Arelius points out in his book 'Meditations'

" Do not imagine that , if something is hard to achieve for you it is therefore impossible for any man but rather consider anything that is humanly possible and appropriate to lie within your reach as well "

P.S. : The source of the quote is " Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live the world they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It's an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It's a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing" : Muhammad Ali 

Once Again

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 27; the 27th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'Once Again'.

If shunning away of complexities had been that convenient a task , problems would have been an extinct species by now. Whenever a man wishes in earnest desire to put his best foot forward, to culminate what he felt was his destiny ,he is confronted by choices. As strange the concept in its existence sounds to be , choices never come handy as much they come when not needed at all. Some may debate and argue over the fact that , man himself is the epicenter of all these choices. Some say its the complexities within a man which make him take wrong decisions at the opportune moment. Many wise men have been quoted and I don't remember them all , but one thing I m certain about , that an individual alone bears  the effect of this all.

              Often it is an event , or an occurrence which come and throw a man in front of a road as mentioned by Robert Frost. He thinks then broods and eventually he decides only to realize that it was a mere waste of time. Destiny plays its cards in the most unfathomable form . And surely when the hand is played little is left that a man could do . 

 Once again Zahir had reached the fork in the road. A road whose extent and destinations both were unknown and unwanted. What and How were questions long forgotten in existence. Where and When was he wrong is something that only destiny could have told. No matter how simple it all began , but once it got deeper complexities began to attach. He always felt as if he had the grasp of the things, yet he was wrong. Indeed like a commoner he sat at another crossroads of his life , nothing different from the past . 

                Many wise men had told him to learn from his mistakes, but once again he stood there stark naked as always. What had been ripped of him could not be returned as once gone love was irreplaceable. Once again he knew he had to gather courage. Once again he tried to sought refuge in wine and books. But then once the wheel of time is fully turned , then man has to take a call . A call so unwanted yet unavoidable. 

Still facing this fork in the road ahead, Zahir looked back and knelt  down and closed his eyes just hoping if once again he could be given a chance. But this time that Once Again may prove to be just too long. 

  

True as Momim once said

                   " Tum mere paas hote ho goya / Jab koi doosra nahi hota "

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That Last Night

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 26; the 26th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'That Last Night'.

Among the buds of smoke lying scattered on the floor and a half emptied bottle of scotch lying on the table, there stood a frail structure, completely motionless as if in peace yet totally disturbed to the core. With his gaze fixed outside at a pair of birds humming on the tree nearby , the man himself appeared to be dumbstruck.

          Though he appeared well under control, but least of all it could be said there was a storm raging inside his heart. It was a storm of remorse, guilt, regret and utter loneliness. Slowly as if creeping like a snail , he moved towards the table where the cigarettes were kept. Casually he picked up one , lighted it and with immense difficulty took it close to his lips. With great difficulty he puffed in and simply fell on the couch nearby. Coincidentally the laptop screen got lit up. It was an alarm , a morning surprise he had prepared for her. With a great romantic background score ( one of her favorites ) , there began a slideshow , a photographic presentation of there journey so far. The pics were full of love, laughter, naughtiness and filled with immense respect for her. But now she was gone and this was of no use. The presentation moved his eyes and caused them to drain away their tears. He dipped into his pockets to search for his mobile. He tried to call her but again the number was switched off. Gradually remorse and guilt gave way to utter sadness. He picked up the phone and threw it away.

                    The shattering sound, as the phone hit the floor just added to his misery. Not cause he had lost some money no, just as this was the last of her memories which he had destroyed with his own hands.He rushed towards  it , trying to gather the pieces and fix them back. But no , it could not be undone. With his hands covering his face in utter shame, he knew what a mistake he had committed. He hoped , rather he prayed that Zaira may come from the kitchen and pinch him so that he could realize that it was a nightmare. And even more so importantly Zaira was still there, by her side, holding his arm and making him feel comfortable.

           But this would be delusional. The letter she had written with her own hands spell the disaster in clear words. She had written with extreme conviction and anger. She was fed up and wanted to give up. She could not be a part of all that anger and fights anymore. She felt as if she was forced into it . The relationship was no longer something she felt attached to anymore rather it became the shackles which were keeping her back. She wanted an escape and so she was sorry, but for the betterment of both of them she was going away.

Holding the letter in his hands,he could still sense her aroma in that. His eyes were filled with tears and he realized that the events of last night were not merely a nightmare, but a truth, that had left him cold, stark and naked. He realized she had gone. He realized he was left alone. He realized it was over and no matter how hard he try it won't be the same without her.That last night had changed it all !
 

                                         aah ko chaahiye ik 'umr asar hone tak
                                  kaun jeeta hai teree zulf ke sar hone tak 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.