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It is not even remotely hilarious how the end comes so quickly and how the end comes while being so melancholic–so brutal–so real–so imaginary and so very lonely. How in the end, not a single soul stays by your side–not even those who claimed to always be there… People never stay. Friends move away. And it is absolute nothingness. The birds and butterflies, the silent mountains, the calm skies and the deep waters– nothingness. So in the end, don’t bother to expect..it’ll come crashing down, just like you did. Close your eyes. Sleep. 

Let There Be Silence– Smoke In My Face.

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In the shadows that falter somewhere. Somewhere the ghosts whose cries of solitude and despondency cuts through the air–shrill, sad.

While we become restless–because of the thousand faces we see in the mirror. The million and one voices that we hear when we are alone.

It is all there. We are at a loss maybe.

In each greeting, we hear whispers.

From a vantage point we stand alone–hearing the bleeding world howl.

And from there we hear the birds being happy.

And from there we hear dreams coming true.

And songs and music.

And death and whispers.

Shhh.

Let there be silence.

Let there be dark.

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The visible vapor. Is it mist? Where does it come from?

Now it rises.

Now it turns dark.

Now it dissolves in thin air–making it thick.

Now it rises again.

Where does it come from?

Me.

IS it my soul?

Is it?

It comes and it rises–dissolving into air.

It leaves me–there while i stand at the vantage point.

It’ll come back to me–i know.

Is it heading towards salvation?

Being chastised?

There it rises–like mist.

There is smoke in my face–and it is me.

So i keep standing there–at the vantage point…listening to the silence

smoke

 

 

 

 

 

A Postcard From Before

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So yes. I found it today. The postcard. That same postcard. From before, way back from time. A time before time.

Yes i found it today. It was from a person who is now dust and ashes….in the memories. And sand in reality. In a lofty desert and on a hot beach. Sand.

Just like on the postcard. A streak of color here and there. Mostly sand and blue, like the sky. So today i stumbled upon it. The postcard.

It said nothing. Or did it. It was one word or many?

Dear and goodbye?

But was it a wave, like that in the sea?

Dear You…happy or sad?

Good-day and miss me?

No. Just a blank acknowledgement. That all is never forgotten. But..most is.

A postcard from before.

Snow and Below.

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“One hundred and thirty-nine brave Pakistanis, 124 of whom were members of the Pakistani army, lie buried under 80 feet of snow on the Siachen Glacier after an avalanche crashed down on a battalion headquarters at Gyari near Skardu on Saturday. The massive avalanche which hit before dawn while the victims were sleeping was 1,000 metres long and 25 metres wide.”

They tell me that nature is a friend.

They also say that it has its wrath.

Buried under all that snow are not just one hundred thirty nine men.

They are one hundred thirty nine souls.

One hundred thirty nine dreams. Which are bureied under all that snow.

It was white…pure white and freezing. And then all the lights went off.

No matter which religion or culture you belong to, take a moment to pray for not just these men. But all those who have lost tjeir lives to all the wars going on. All those who might lose hope.

Because Being Human..that is what connects us all.

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Anathema….

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Sit down, dont move..and let me cradle you

Lean on my shoulder and cry …confess what you want

Your folly..i will listen..lend you my ears and my heart.

You are damned…and cursed..and loathed.

I desire your attention…and affection…

You are weak…but strong is your soul…

And i will listen..and bear with you your anathema..

Weaken me…if you must…but i will remain strong at heart.

And in the end i will let you know..it was never like it to be so..

It was never to be so…at all

Night Fades…..

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It was dark, pitch dark outside. It was darker still inside. There was intense silence yet there was a commotion, a restess frenzy going on about. The night prowlers had taken over and were maybe having a busy night.

The half moon started to shine, trying to peak from between the clouds who concealed it…as if it was a fair maiden who no one should lay their eyes on. But it still managed to emerge through them. Though it was only a half moon yet it lightened up the long outstretched road. Moonlight fell on the trees giving them elongated shapeless shadows which looked like gruesome dead figures.

And yes there was that chilly breeze, the one that tangles with your skin as if it is trying to reach to your soul. And such was night time. Yet it was pitch dark outside, darker still inside.

Nothing could be seen or heard in the room but something could be felt. Restlessness. In the cold attic room, on a cold bed, he lay there trying to sleep. Wanting to sleep, needing to sleep. But sleep is not that easy to get for some. And he was one of those for whom sleep is a hard bargain.

It seemed like a long night. Almost never ending. He had nothing to do. Nothing to think about. No one to talk to. He felt empty and hollow. Restlessness. He was tired, he felt dead. Futility was killing him, serenity had decieved him. Sleep seemed sacred. He lay there wistfully.

Time was slowly, reluctantly passing by. Each second becoming harder to bear. It was an eerie night. He took out his cigarette lighter and started toying with it. He turned it on, looked at the burning flame for a while, felt uncertain and turned the burner off.

He was now in doldrums. His eyes ached now, they were red filled with all the years of sadness. They were in an eigma. They showed misery. He twisted and turned on his bed. Time was running. Time was passing by. Soon time would collide with sleep…or so he wished.  Outside it was not pitche dark anymore…inside it was darker still.

The sky was beginnig to change colour. It was ready to transform into light. Sleep was still far away, somewhere out of his reach. Maybe someplace pure,clean. Maybe in clouds or even heaven.

He took out his lighter again. He lay on his bed, upside down, with one arm stretched out. He turned the lighter on.

He watched the steady flame, burning …..just burning.

He saw how it glows. Outside the dark black sky began to change its color.

He looked outside the window and for the first time in many days, he thought about something.

Clenching the burning light in one hand, he thought, whie=le looking at the sky…how tranquil, how serene and how divine it was. The sky that changes color..solemn, still and intense. He began to cogitate.

He looked and looked. He wondered, that in all the intensity, the stillness,the depth, the dark…oh how easily,swiftly and sadly it all ends…only to begin.

In such solitude,restlessness,uncertainty,deceit, it just fades……..Night fades…..

With this thought,he turned over looked at the burning flame and turned it off.