If I could Bribe Her by a Daisy

Monday, December 27, 2010 by B.H.
If I could bribe her by a daisy
I’d pick the fairest of all –
From Potwar plateau to Cashmere
Bereft she was –– of what I know not
A splash of blue –– a sprinkle of violet
Formed her evenfall that knew no night
And she fell like a night –
She fell like the rain and the stars
Like the snow flakes –– of the Yule
Like the autumn leaves –– of a maple tree
Like the petals –– from a “sorry rose”
Like the teardrops –– from the beauteous eyes
And perished in the dappled grass ––
The grass once she walked through.
Amidst the December wood –– by the ebony
Therein – lies a blossom
A daisy – it must be
She found a star – a daisy it was
That did hoist her –– to chirk
And cheep…
That must end the night –
A night so dark and hazy
But who must’ve dropped the daisy?
Who oh who?
“I bribed her by a daisy.”

–– B.H.

Bearded Man Said...

Thursday, December 23, 2010 by B.H.

This life is but a state of war son… A war inside you. Loosen not the hold – keep a firm hold on the rope of guiltless freedom. Bear off the venom that churns within you for the righteous light…for the prayer of a righteous man availeth much. Remember son, the greatest Lord has set you free to choose 'tween the true and false and doubtlessly He is capable of impossibilities. The fuel for the Blazes is um men and stones. You are equipped with a plus – a plus fearsome for the darkness that is forgiveness. Son, this Earth and the heavens are made for you. And if you break, read and recite The Book that shall light your darkest ways of the darkest cities and shall bring you back from the lowest of the lows. Stay blessed son, wherever you remain.

From the Hinterland of Memory

Tuesday, November 30, 2010 by B.H.

Back when I was a kid – in first grade. One fine evening, I was walking back to home in that strange infantile gait that I would prefer – with the gleaming joy hovering in my thoughts and a poem buzzing in the lips that our very nice ma’am Saffia taught that day. I would hum stuff then all the way from school to home habitually. It was a usual evening, kids were discontinuing their half-played-matches and leaving the park by our house, the Azaan-e-Maghrib was echoing all over the town, I reached home and dropped down my bag and waterbottle and handed my dad my report card, grinned widely like an almost stupid kid and stood before him with both hands in the pocket and a constant cute stare at him, a stare with some expectations, for I had a feeling of all that being a good omen. I didn’t know what it was all about; Dad the great and mom the great smiled back at me though their smiles were not like the usual ones, they were rather tensed and I could see that. They were really excited about that card like thing for some unknown reason I didn’t know back then. They were smiling and smiling one can say like “perpetually”. All at once, their smiles disappeared and my mom the great uttered something like, “uh-oh” and dad the great like, “this is not great!” And then they said 10th! Yes, I stood 10th in the very first examination of school I’d ever taken.

From that day on, I have a posture of that moment stilled back in a very special corner of my brain which I always recall when I study, for exams of course. After that very first examination, I’d always worked hard, and improved to the point that other kids’ parents would scold them and would tell them to be like me.

Yes. That boy was the same one that today, I saw in the mirror in the morning.

I was a kid then.

Life was smooth then.

I was intelligent then.

I was confident then.


Today, I recall it differently, because when I fell, Dad the great did not say “this is not great.” nor did my mom the great utter anything like, “uh-oh”. They were sad. That gesture. Period. Gesture is framed. So… blog, you know the rest of the story, right? … What? Aren’t you too smart to guess that?

I’m leaving you with this for an indefinite time period. Take care and be good to people. =) Allah Hafiz.

Who I am Hates Who I’ve been

Monday, November 15, 2010 by B.H.

My hands are full at the moment and I don’t have much to do. I just don’t know who to listen to at this time. I have no routine, classes are off and we are free. I’m spending all my time cursing the malevolency of the books. The recent sabotage has scared me so gravely that I’ve started memorizing all the text written on the books. Yes, I’m an oddball and I’m happy with that, because I’m not the only one.

I always believed that I had no flair in what I’m studying and now as expected this thing is slipping out of the hands. The mere thought of the recent past gives me jim-jams. Umm… Frankly, this is not even a challenge for me for I know I can ace it swimmingly.
I don’t know why it happened to me in the first place. Okay, I confess, I screwed up things, but not to this point, I swear! …! Period. Time passed. No use to curse anything now.

Apart from all this, I’m improving a lot of things about me and trying to fit in the business-freaks-herd. While they walk, I will have to sprint up to where they have reached.

And… Everything is felicitous, life is worth it. No daze. No fog. No obscure-ness. No poetry. Even the winters are pleasurable. Almost two weeks ago, it seemed that everything was finished, but on the inside I knew it was the start. So, here I am. And it makes me laugh.

By the way, have I ever mentioned that I have the worlds’ most amazing friends? Most amazing Lord has given me a lot. But curse you mans’ ingratitude! I don’t get the time to even thank Him. Tsk Tsk. So… um that’s all. I have to watch some TV now.

With this, I bid you adieu.

P.S: This blogpost is the result of author’s horrible state of ennui and overdose of computer-related-theories.
P.S2: No hyphens? Cool.
P.S3: I’m going to get my NIC in a month! =D lol
Friday, November 5, 2010 by B.H.

I … failed.

I’m going to burst. For sure.
Dear God,
I will not pray, no never.
Yes, God, I’m a complete rebel now.
D W Y W, I don’t care.
I quit.
Nothing worse can happen.
Than what you’ve been doing to me since the day I was born.
None knows the concept of uncontrollable tears.
I failed.
I don’t even need a bear hug.
Not even mom’s.

Say what you want to.
Hurt me.

For I failed…

I… quit.
And if you ever see me laughing again.
Just don’t believe your eyes.
No more.

But no.
I am fighting.
For nothing again.
'Cause ...

I love you mom. If you ever read this... thank you for the hug.
Time paused when you said, "everything's going to be alright."
Thank you Usama!
Thank you Rehan!
Thank you Bilal!
Thank you Asima!
Sorry, I couldn't... I feel frail.
And Baba I'm sorry. I guess I'm not that smart as you think I am.
I tried. And it's so unfair to me. You know that, right?
And God,
Posted in | 10 Comments »

The lone wolf in the street

Wednesday, November 3, 2010 by B.H.

Meager life, ample emotions –– and still it’s illicit. No, you can’t be happy for so long, no, you can’t be unhappy for so long. It’s illicit to live that way, you must fluctuate! You must fall, rise, lurch, dash, fall again and so on. And something known as “self-command” is a vague perception of nothingness, at least for me. I never felt it. Is it because I never wanted to be controlled by anyone even by me?
Karma, go to the blazes for all I care! Punishment is mine.

For I’m a fainéant being hence I must procrastinate it – again. I do not know what I am thinking, I do not know why I am thinking – whatever is – that I’m thinking, I do not know what I am doing and why I am doing and on a serious note, I do not want to know. Is it wrong? Whatever I’m thinking, for I can’t express it. Is it bad? ….. Is it normal? Or just forget it because you won’t understand.

Shillyshallying it again for I’m a fainéant being. Just give me the perfect cushion to fall for, I’m going to hell anyway.


Thank you

Friday, October 29, 2010 by B.H.
Oftentimes, I really wish, life could be as easy as the table of 2. I remember when I was kid, how blithely I would sing, ‘two ones are two –, two twos are four’ and so on with a marvelous feeling that something on the face of the earth –– could be this much easy. But, it’s not the table of 2 –– it’s life.

Everyone face bruises, don’t you? [I want you to nod your approval here so that I might feel a bit sane] because I hear humans do. Martians do too, just look at me [=P].

Everyone build ‘castles-of-sand’ and only sometimes they don’t crumple.

You’ll see strange and yet usual affairs here, sometimes you’ll find a bird who wouldn’t fly out of an opened cage, you’ll meet people with solid masks on their faces –– disguised just to go with the flow, who wouldn’t even look like humans, you’ll see unicorns in your villages jumping in the ponds too, okay that’s a bit farfetched.

I wanted to say,

You can at times end up doing stupid things when your ‘castle-of-sand’ crumples. I mean that is legal, right?

I know some people are cursing me secretly – for the recent good (not really) deed I’ve made my angels record in my ‘amal nama’ by deactivating my twitter account, which I regret, really.

And today I feel obliged to thank some special visitors of My Time Capsule for making me feel ‘something-really-good’ throughout the whole lifetime of this place up till now.

And I intend no pun!

She’s simple yet the most beautiful human being on the planet Earth and Jupiter (according to her), the regular and [lol] loyal reader =P of my pathetic Time Capsule. And yes! She’s always there for the advisory business. *whispers* She thinks she knows everything, and um, I think the same…….almost. You don’t mind, do you? Of course you don’t. Thank you Princess for your nonstop feedback. =)

My first ever fan, not only because she is my best friend (She said that =P), the first ever non-bot comment on MTC was hers. She thinks she is going to be the president of this country, and she also thinks I am a good poet, tell me about it. I believe you'll read it someday. So, thank you so much for being the first ever genuine visitor.

It always snows when she is around, not literally though and yes! She is cooler than me and every one of you who is reading this post or not. Thank you Tazeen! =) And I’m sorry, I will find a better nickname for you, ‘cause I think fat cat sounds kind of outdated, 'and you see, I’m not that rancorous'. I tried reading whole Wuthering Heights just to know about Mr. Heathcliff. [=P] But for some reason I gave up after reading 25% of the book. So, Tazeen, thanks a lot. =)

She is older than me but she somehow reminds me of my childhood. Anyway, the coolest nerd I’ve ever seen, the fickle thing with the blog of same nature as hers. And I think she can take over this country. Xehra, thank you so much –– for so many praises, for the post in which you recommended my page with a rib-tickling cartoon in green shirt who was supposed to be me –– attached to it and for the advice regarding writing an English Text Book –– for preschoolers. =) Thank you. =)

The guy I used to hate caboodles turned out to be the direct opposite of what –my perception about him was, surprisingly, I was wrong – totally. This person always thinks about others’ happiness for no reason. 2nd best person I’ve ever seen. And good thing, he likes my Time Capsule, he once told me… No seriously, he likes it, ask him. He’s just like my brother, a bit insane one though. He can always ‘screw’ people just to amuse them, trust me.

And thanking all the people who have ever visited this Time Capsule of mine! =) (only if you don’t know me personally).

P.S: I’m sorry.

Wake-Up Call

Wednesday, October 27, 2010 by B.H.

I like how a lavender-crimson-red evening swirls away ––
Like that kite in folly –– eludes with the gale
Out of the reach – it floats – just as hope… so far
Like that only dainty pearl –– a whole star
As bumpy as a tarn, as prim as a skylark,
Sparking in the heavens as a solitary mark

I carved a heart in the wood – where I had come
And carved your name which shone like the sun
To my gratification, I ran my hands on it
Until night –– till the scar got imprinted

And now I behold the sky in evenfall,
It’s blurred…
I flapped my hand before the eyeball,
I rubbed…
But mayhap some stars in the whole sky––
Are too shallow for the reach of my sight…

–– B.H.

Till the words don't rhyme

Thursday, October 21, 2010 by B.H.

Smiling passively at the film of haunting past –– flashing in your mind before your eyes –– is the strangest thing in this world and yet it is the most beautiful. *smiles* as stunning as that illusive existence that erupts into reality right before your very eyes –– and flares an unendurable craving for a desire to be gratified. Only if we were not the two alike poles of a magnet –– in love but –– only to follow rites –– the universal law –– they repel each other.

Every time I feel at sea, I fall off…

Enough fallings off the edges... I should step back this time, step back and walk backwards towards the haunt and get overwhelmed with choler and grapple with the phantoms… claw their throats until they suffocate and burst into tears –– tears of painfulness and impuissance and finally batter them to death. I should walk backwards to make it to you…

Enough of our private theories… I’ve started thinking a lot. *smiles*

Something About Me

Wednesday, October 20, 2010 by B.H.
Things I wish to do but won’t:

To shriek my lungs out amid a decent crowd
To dance in the middle of the street without caring (once done)
To take my shirt off in the summer rain
To get away from the café without paying (twice done)
To travel in an unknown bus –– oblivious to the destination

Things I don’t wish to do but I do:

To go to the college of commerce
To follow the rites and stay ordinary
To share room with my brother
To get sad/hurt just because of the least hurtful things
To prefer silence in my defense and in anger

Things I like and love:

Poetry/ mysteries/ riddles/ fog/ some songs, blah and blah
To stand like a beacon amongst others
To respect the people who really deserve
To write abstractly that none gets except for few
To like people secretly

Things I loathe and hate:

Hangouts with family
To attend formal meetings, wedding ceremonies and dinners at expensive restaurants
To get humiliated (I’m naturally sensitive *blinks innocently*)
Winters and cold nights
Heavy metal music and specially the band My Chemical Romance

Jeez! =/


Monday, October 18, 2010 by B.H.

They sat by the lake – secluded yet together
Along with the torn letter’s pieces to smother
And then Autumn passed by –– And He took it all away…!
“Their secret’s been revealed –– Yet they have told no other”

I give up before I even think about starting it. Such diffidence – I have not experienced.

There’s so much in grate to combust for –– that can lighten up the whole series of the darkest nights.

But still, there’s an invisible push –– the lethal weight pressing down on me like a rotten society’s slants that keeps one low –– low as a thrall, grasps one by one’s wings, plucks its feathers oftentimes and –– keeps one low, in the dwelling –– from flying.
The hands, –– as transparent as water, as mighty as a lion, as keen as an owl, as nimble as a deer, press me downwards in a hallow hole –– in an abyss so deep that it takes centuries to fall and once I fall painlessly, it presses down on me even more inside the shallow rubbles until I penetrate them and get swallowed up by the abyss and eventually forget –– everything I once remembered.

I’m done with hoping, I’m done with dreaming, I’m done with trying.
Let’s pretend now. “Look what I’ve found… A raw hope – a wingless bird!”
Let’s walk with it – till we part.
And because, it feels good… Somehow, it makes me want to walk. Somehow… someway, I like to walk, when I’m with you.

Such lonely lives in togetherness! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!
And ultimately the push will say: “Cull the no-hopers from the herd!”

Help. Solace. Oh God. The push is mightier.

The Art of Forgetting

Friday, October 8, 2010 by B.H.

It has been days and days –– this daze –– I’m faced with and yet I am not able to aerify this solider-than-rock, more saturated than pain –– pain of burning skin state. The question that my braincase eludes in response to my question is that what the question is. Maybe it is sometimes futile to ask this scummy organ.

It seems I’ve lost something, my sun, my winter sun, the beautiful sun, the only sun. Every single glorious vision from my mind as if –– have perched away.

It’s like an infant thought with no unity in ideas, just swinging strands, a fabric woven by an amateur, like an abstraction.

I lost my fantasies –– my fantasies with you –– which were ineffable. Dreams that we wove together, the reason – we woolgathered for. We kept on weaving ruby dreams side by side, shoulder to shoulder in perfections. The dewy green grass of a glimmering morning –– that needs bare feet to feel alive, we walked on it and had a talk about dewdrops on lilies, remember? –– it seems blurry and misty now. The relief –– that slows my pulse down after the racing as if I may have seen life without you, I lost. It races now –– as if it has been challenged to race, and at times it slows down to zero.

We are all strong that’s why we are surviving.

Let me forget and survive.

I vivified you with my eyes closed and brought you as close to me as I could, and faced you, faced the blastoffs (pleasant and unpleasant) you had in store, you did everything you could, and then I pushed you away with the palms of my both hands, as far as I could with all the power I had, and transformed you into logs. I transformed you into everything –– deserted. Memory destroyed.

I have forgotten.

Brain? Check!
Senses? Check!
Reasons? Check!
Health? Check!
Goals? Check!
Wit? Check!
Dreams? Uncheck!

*takes a deep breath*

Ah, I can inhale the oxygen now. Good, I can breathe. I guess I’m okay now. =)


by B.H.

Phool rangeen
Sarkain sunsaan
Mizaaj sangeen
Udaasiyo ki shaam
Mujhe main samaye
Aur main naadaan
Aur pagal. Bus pagal.


Sunday, October 3, 2010 by B.H.

Lord can do anything – and He does it adeptly for our own good. Lord loves His – mankind seventy times more than a mother loves her children.

Let the hope not nestle low with the broken ruby wings for He is invariably and perpetually with you. We might dislike at times – the ways He chooses for us to pass through the tracts of life – but if we keep faith then the harvesting turns out fruitfully good – eventually.

Just heed to what He says to you –– what He wants you to do –– how He wants you to do.

Sometimes there can be no reason to smile, but smile…
For you have –
Another sun to see, a new day to look forward to…
How ill-disobedient you become when you think you’re alone.


And for you and me, I have this, my dearest.

As dainty as a pipit –– a hankering –– for an eternity
The moment –– stretches more – and seems a century
They carve it in souls –– and let them vaporize –
And float them in airs to their Shaper – divine
Mayhap He has a primmer bounty in store ––
For them –– a better ground to woolgather for


A Mask without the Face

Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by B.H.
A humble glimpse –
Of my fickle imaginations –
Spilled on the canvas
In a jiff –
An atrocious darkness
In a trice –
A glinting flutter ––
Days and nights
Then the darkness stilled…
The monsoon roared
And wrathfully splattered –
The transparent dread
And gushed in the maples and ebonies
And the yellow pale moon –
Hid behind the shuddering dense hazes
The owl against the glow –
Flew by
A gaggle gaggled –
In the sky
As I asked meekly a mask of his health –
Without the face

By B.H.
                                                                          Us Magazine

Life is a Fickle Persistence

Monday, September 20, 2010 by B.H.

It’s funny, when life happens to anyone, none can define. It’s neither like one’s ennui in barbershop nor like one’s fright while roaming with a fiend in an unknown market.

It’s funny to see the sunshine and the rain – at the same time and to be hopeless and the luckiest at the same time. Even nature makes fun of you.

It’s funny you have something, but you’re not supposed to own it. It’s like the feelings of a kid in a bakery, gazing savory pastries with sheer craving. I don’t know how but I find it funny.

It’s funny when you find your flair, none’s there to appreciate. When you master the art of crying on walls and pillows, they offer shoulders. When you are (happily) numb, someone actually starts loving you. It’s just funny.

It’s funny, when the only thing you are supposed to trust – brainpan doesn’t respond to the fixes you’re in – at times.

It’s funny when you’re the brightest yet the dingiest gem.

It’s funny when you care (give a damn)… Yes it is amusing!

It’s funnier when you get used to this fickleness of life’s persistency.

And eventually you start learning breaking away every twist and turn – malevolently adorned – of the pathway – that is supposed to lead you towards the terminus. It serves you its swinging random lanes for the repast in a crooked fashion – to scare you. But you hate not it anymore. Life… Is a fickle persistence and we are the meek grace. It dances in its ways in its folly like a kite up above the sky. It is just funny when you exist only – to follow the rites and go with the flow to curb yourself away from the taboo term called ‘rebel’.

Funny when you wage a war against nothingness and eventually you lose.


It was the last day of the perch. It’s time to fly again. I just hope the new sun brings smiles and happiness anew. I have been told that I am bright, brighter than the sun.
So, I must fight every eclipse I face, and regain the light.
Because I have ‘something’ worth fighting for. I am indeed the luckiest boy on this planet I believe. And hopelessness, I will conquer! God will help.
And as Emily Dickinson would put in,

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

If hope is the thing with feathers... Then hopelessness should be unfeathered.


The end – that was too soon

Sunday, September 12, 2010 by B.H.
“Stand up. Stand up. Make the difference. This world needs you. Your people need you. They expect SOMETHING from you. Stand up. You’re not supposed to give up. Stand up.” Advices and bitter glares… Blah!

It hit me like a rub-a-dub of any remixed mystic sonata, like some epic myth that has been resurfaced in my head, like a movie that you love the most – and sadly it contains those two little words in the end – the end.

The daze I am facing has been infinitely long and unusually epic that – I should have foreseen. Water not the wrong plant, I hear. But it’s not just enough to abjectly wipe off the teardrops away, far away! Because. They come back –– like the cuckoo’s call echoes in the vales –– again and again, over and over. So, I burn the left-over pieces and fly the ashes in the airs and burry the rest in the backyard and water the grave and adorn the plant inside and see it, hate it, regret it. I try. I try, I pant, I cry, I grasp the pages and screech and tear. I imagine myself running backwards, there – where I’d once started from. Hopeless on the green signal, I know that the heartache will not cease, it will not.

Beacon, we must reach out to, climb up and on and run through the hollow and the craggy dazes, against despairing storms –– pushing backwards, making us –– the buffeted –– lose the race completely –– is the negativity that we must curb.

To whispers and echoes – I must pay heed not.

Putting an end to it… The End.

My Eid

Saturday, September 11, 2010 by B.H.
From elated dawn
Then a few ho-hum smiles
To tv all the day

(My apologies if I've breached haiku's very uncool 5-7-5 syllable rule.)

The Promise

Wednesday, September 8, 2010 by B.H.

Tick drop tock drip tick drop tock drip was what one could hear in that shallow twilight.
The noise of the wall-clock and the leaking pipe in the bathroom –– was quite grudgingly harsh to him in that silent twilight.

It wrote,
“I prevail. I prevail –– as a lowly slave.”
“It’s passing, it’s consuming me from inside and outside –– the times –– tabooed times.”

Another second passed, followed by another – the hand moved and went on, and then trembled a minute – and a minute melted into an hour followed by another hour and hours and hours.

The miles and the hours.

Tick tock, drip drop. Tick tock, drip drop. Tick tock, drip drop...

It wrote, “I’ll bend space and gravity, only if...”

The visions – blurred, emotions numbed and a sob unthinkingly was heard.
It slightly shed off the eye and made a way for the others to come; some followed it while others made their own ways. The tears they were, gleaming waterfalls against the room-light from the dark one could see. Trickling twinkles. Tick tock, drip drop. Teardrops embellished the cheeks like stars do to the sky.


The thunders of restlessness rumbled all over the place.

It wrote, “My thirst for you has become vampiric.”

Tick tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip, tock…

The night had risen over the world and covered it like a shawl. The night it was.
The dark and the room-light and…

A broken heart, a pain –– seared,

It wrote again, “I’d dive far below the oceans… I’d fly far above the clouds… only if…”

“None is to be blamed, oh my love. I hope you’re fine. I hope.”

Silent in disbelief, with awkward clingy emotions – he was. At square one – he was. He was.

The death each moment – he embraced.

Music played: “With every kiss and every hug you’ve made me fall in love.”
And silence crept again. Tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop…

It wrote then, “Only if I could lie within your soul and mind… and in your arms.”
And, “I’d sell it all… all my materialistic treasures.”

Music played: “Tum bin jaa’un kahan, ke dunya mein aa ke – kuch nehi chaha….”

The swollen eyes watered the sear cheeks again. The heart moaned. And then it wiped off them, all of them.

[What does he hide? Behind those scarred humid eyes.]

And it wrote, “You are my strength, and I shall keep the promise, I shall never fall apart, I shall mend my heart, even before it breaks.”
“I shall keep the promise and you will keep it too.”
“I hear, miracles happen.” Hand trembled, but he continued in imperfections. “For roses can bloom amongst the wrinkled rocks.” “For water can spurt in oasis in midst of deserts” “And if needles and threads could not do it, I shall mend it with love –– that is still alive.”
“Distances are mere a frail thread, our love is the robust string.”

The night was young, but the feelings were feeble.

Tock, drop, tick, drip, tock, drop, tick, drip…

The night kept on growing. Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Hours gone by.
And a dewdrop fell from the heaven on a leaf outside his window; it smiled at him and fell asleep on that very leaf, he saw it sleeping and waited for the sun to rise.

And then the sun fought its way up the horizon. Beams came in from the window and he saw the halos.
It was a new day, but the promise was the same.

Emily Dickinson

Sunday, September 5, 2010 by B.H.
Remember when I told you, “I strangely sometimes fall for dead people.”? I was not kidding. And then my love is not like just a crush, it is as deep as an abyss – an abyss so deep that your eyes will give up, your brain will cease thinking. I love them with all my breaths as I carve everything – trait, habits and style about them in my soul and run my fingers on the carving until it gets imprinted, I might sound insane and yes, we all have the right to go insane sometimes. When I was 14, I read somewhere that ‘they’ lived an isolated life, that sentence –– I have still not forgotten. See, what I figured out the meaning of isolation.


Such a little room ––– I keep
Where teenage musings and I sleep
The ink yet in my pen is aware
At night my heart descends the stair
Dove at my door put a mar
A lightening bug escaped from jar
Who flied and glowed and dreamed and died
So secretly, the neighbors think –– I hide
Within these walls and windowpane
Away from clichés like hurt and pain
I’ve sealed my doors from the world so cold
While everyone breathe –– and grow old
Within my fence lies copious solitude
Such a lonely life with blue ingratitude
And lies in my backyard – desires’ flags unfurled
In a ruined dingy cemetery state –– once my world
So long ––– after my earthly grave
A girl –– on bench by the secluded lake
Will spread each page beautifully swept
O such a little room ––she’ll say –– I kept
By B.H

Us, The News


What N.A. says about the poem “Why do I love” You, Sir? by Emily Dickinson:
“One of our regular contributors, Bahadur Hussain, contributed the following poem by Emily Dickinson. The poem is an example of typical Dickinsonian verse – fragmentary and yet conveying a world of emotions through its extreme pithiness…”

“Why do I love” You, Sir?
By Emily Dickinson

“Why do I love” You, Sir?
Because –
The wind does not require the Grass
To answer – Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

Because He knows – and
Do not You –
And We know not –
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so –
The Lightning – never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut – when e was by –
Because He knows it cannot speak –
And reason not contained –
Of Talk –
There be – preferred by Daintier Folk –

Te Sunrise – Sire – compelleth Me –
Because He’s Sunrise – and I see –
Therefore – Then –
I love Thee –



“Mujhe ishq kyn hai” Tum se, Janaab?
Kyn ke –
Hawa ko nahi hai zaroorat Ghaas ki
Jawaban – ke Wo guzray jab
Wo qaa’im nahi reh sakti.

Kyn ke Wo janta hai – aur
Kya Tum nahi –
Aur Hum nahi jantay –
Yeh buhat hai Humaray liye
Yeh Danaa’i se mutta’lliq’at –
Bijli ki chamak ne – Aankh se nahi kaha
Par Wo band ho gai – jab Wo yehan thi –
Kyn ke Wo janto hai Yeh nahi bol sakti –
Aur koi wajoohat bhi nahi –
Baaton ki –
Behter logo ki tarjee’hat mein se – ik yeh bhi

Tu’loo-e-Sooraj – Meri zaat – mujhe majboor karti hai –
Kyn ke wo Tu’loo-e-Sooraj hai – aur Main dekhti hun –
Isi liye – phir –
Main Tum se Ishq karti hun –

Translated by B.H. “Why do I love” You, Sir?


(Ode) To Emily Dickinson
By Bahadur Hussain

Like the saturated raindrops kiss
Parched lands – withered lilies-
Shrivelled roses – sear ferns
And gentlemen smell the meek aroma
Of funeral of their – gaudy thirst
Like your words – spill over my heart-
Your quenching and immortal words
My ecstasies – my drugs –
There! Behind your nitid eyes-
Was – the myth of kingdom – of ample wit-
Whose – knight still kills – my dreadful thirsts.
What shall I call your words – the musings – the solitude-?
The shooting stars in twilight-
Or the bittersweet feeling – of crimson pain
Or the frown of a rose ringed-parakeet
Or the warm suns of frigid winters-
Or all the blossoms – from Amherst to Cashmere?
Only If I could – take your solitude afar-
And you could – take my dreads away-
We would have not emerged –
As poets – but lovers
Though, you knew naught of me – but-
I shall love you forever;
Because – wind needs no grass to blow- ma’am!

Published in Us, The News International

I was never like that

Monday, August 30, 2010 by B.H.
The phrases “I am busy” and “I have been really busy lately” share a really strange relationship with my tongue, maybe the same which the two opposite poles of the same magnet share, strongly attracted, my tongue seems helpless sometimes and slips and says it, I am not sure for how many times I have uttered “I am busy” up till now in my whole life, but I am sure more than the number of Lady Gaga’s fans on this planet. Well, clichéd? Yet again! Okay verbose again, [=/] not good, makes things lilac.

Yes, I have been really busy –– watching movies, fasting, dozing off, and chewing bubble gums after Iftaar everyday, talking to friends (Doing nothing, if we talk seriously). And the solitude –– that used to separate me from this world, and used to help me with creating things –– things, which I was (or still am) passionate about –– is tumbling down. I am getting famous in my friends and yet I seem not happy. I am becoming just another teenager now. But, like a typical growing teenager, carrying on my favorite activities with the studies and at the same time experiencing the breakdown of my youthful innocence, going through exaggerated dramas and breaking or making of friendships isn’t really my thing.

My way of living my life was simple, away from controversies and politics, but I am feeling awkwardly weird these days. “I was never like that” is another phrase –– I have been using these days.


Well, you know, the change, it is an unchangeable law. With every tick of the hand of the clock, I see a change in myself – in my behavior, my body, in my thoughts, and in the people around me –– my family. The way of the quest about life changes with time. My way of looking at things and views about them have changed, I’ve realized. Like the gurgling babies’ drools change and it someday transforms into monotonous voices or heavenly sounds or plain noises, and eventually they forget. Forget.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

That’s a heavy word, in every sense, some times beneficial, and sometimes, not. When we forget, doesn’t matter. But when they do, it does. [I guess I have distracted myself]

But the point is that, you can’t live like “those” people who inspired you. You are just what you are; you can be influenced, but you can’t be changed wholly. This all is happening. I am no more emo, there’s nothing between the lines I scribble these days. Or it’s just a phase. Let’s see.

Sour Grapes

Wednesday, August 25, 2010 by B.H.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever...
I'm so sick of you too,
and your love poems...
Damn! Where's my pen?
I hate misplacing things.
Train of thought goes with it...

If I read one more love poem, I'll puke!
I'm ready to collect all love poems
and nuke them to the New Earth.

I'm not in love.
Ain't got nobody.
Tired of hearing 'bout hers
and your new hottie.
Don't want to know nuthin' 'bout your river of tears
Take that drivel and go cry in your beers!
And not here where I can hear you bitch' and moan.
Grab your lovesick friends,
and hit the bar zone farthest from me.
I'm sick of the love songs as well!
All the damned songwriters should be shot to hell.
One minute love's why they're alive;
the next, love's the reason for suicide.
No wonder the whole world is so damned confused.
Y'all worshippin' love and getting abused.

Oh, here's my pen.
What was that again?
Yes, "My love, shall I compare thee to a summer's night?
Was only yesteryear when I lay my head upon your chest with delight
and gazed into your hazel eyes
and saw my soul 'Twas ..."

by Nordette Adams

The final meeting

by B.H.

H: Y'all want amusement, even amid bruising times, trodden by the blocks –– a little red heart, when it’s unimaginable even to breathe. Y'all always want something. Mean –– they doth call you. In your eyes – lust overflowing, oozing out, I can see that. Mouth watering desires. Y'all! Unfurled are still, sheets – upon you sleep’est. Eyes on –– yours – are sandwiching it in pressures. Ya’ll! Don’t you have jobs? How much y'all want to suck out of a man’s organs? Flipping parasites!? I say no to you! And bye! Let it breathe the breaths it is left with amid death, amid fear.

S: Ain’t been nothing like that – the things you told, untrue beloved. You hast been bruised, that, I know. And this too, that it sleep’eth not when you goest in it, the organ you hast in your head. You dost close thine eyes, but it doth not. You think too much. Stop the rude; let it take a bath of sugar a little.

H: A little……Little… Little things, put a big mark, I guess the little bit has done to me too.
S: Water from thy eyes will go away; the history of sun says that, it’ll take them too.
H: The wrath of mystery inside me is mightier than even the histories of sun.
S: Chirps you adore are playing the tricks, open thy senses before they are done.
H: I traced it out in waters too, whirls were only I could see.
S: I have read it before it even was traced, on a wafting red dried autumn leaf.
H: It whispered it in the airs too, if only they could care.
S: Whispering winds came to me, ‘cause they wanted it to share.
H: But a great man said once, ‘they have no time to stand and stare.’
S: Sigh. Let it breathe the breaths it is left with, amid bruising life, amid pinching fear.

Solid Masks

Monday, August 23, 2010 by B.H.
Life has been like a fickle friend to me – up until now. Witnessing of its changing colors has always been my hobby. So ridiculously absurd at times it seems that I feel like crawling in some hole and just giving up there, but you know, that happens. It’s completely normal.

And, they say there is always a string of defeats before every stunning victory, a series of scratches on the knees before one learns to ride his bicycle. It’s a fact, like the fact that it’s raining here at this very moment, like the fact that I am typing. [=P]

I am spending my vacations at home reading, doing stuff and waiting impatiently for the college to reopen.

Giving up isn’t good. Giving up isn’t good. Giving up isn’t good.


There is a little change I am going to make in the strategy and I just hope it works.


Nothing. [=P]

Apart from that, I am seeing people, with two faces and some with three and four, strange species. Raavan type. And when they talk, they sound like plastic shopping bags –– that god awful noise when we fold or unfold plastic shopping bags. Eek! I don’t know I just imagine this, and frankly, they are like chickens to me, I’m not sure why though. Okay that’s verbose. [:P]

Funny it might sound but they act very nicely with you and try to insult you when others are around.

I have hired a black huge man to scare you away from me.

Now I’ve learnt to see your real faces that you hide behind the solid masks. [Yes, I was stupid enough not to see them before] And I plan on to pull the trigger before it gets rougher, tougher than before. I plan on to break up with every one who owns two faces.

Oh yes! I am pointing at you, and I am going to pull this trigger. Thwack! [:D].

It’s funny to see them trying to betray and lie to you when you know everything. Uff kya mushkil mushkil baatain. I was never like that. Besides, how old am I to talk like this? 18? >_<


The ‘pathetic’ factor

Wednesday, August 18, 2010 by B.H.
You are pathetic in my definition, when…

When you suck at everything you try to do, but you’re still showered with ample praises.

When you are envious of other people's work, and want to just suck their creativity out of their veins and kill them.

When you wake up really late, that too with the help of alarm and that particular alarm tone echoes in your brain for infinitely long time, say like all the day.

When you are too lazy to even get a haircut, so you start looking like Einstein, then you realize that barber will really hate you and maybe will say no to you that scares you more. And you just don’t get a haircut in five months unless you start scaring people.

…And when people ask you about you hair being so ridiculously ugly, you use the most unique excuse that is, ‘I want to look unique.’

When your dislike-list is subdivided in, favorite dislikes, less-favorite dislikes and not-so-favorite dislikes and plain-simple dislikes.

You use elevators every time and ‘stairs’ is your favorite dislike.

When there is no nature/beauty left in the moon, and you just want to pelt it with stones and shatter it.

When at times unintentionally you say stuff that can be a really good quotation and you feel like Shakespeare.

When even charging your phone’s battery is in your favorite dislikes. And your phone doesn't breathe for weeks and weeks.

You activate strange SMS packages in your cell phone, and send three to five messages daily.

…Phone eats your balance everyday for ‘those’ packages you activated and you really don’t care.

You do hear your parents’ lectures and taunts about your room being a mess, your hair being so ugly and other things usually yet do not listen to them.

When you and some other people wish for death together in different places for different reasons, but after sometime you find them happy while you are numb. So, you feel great. *sarcastically*

You start liking very very strange things, to which no one even pays heed.

Whenever you hear/see birds chirping, you want to shoot them or puke on them.

At times you feel like aliens and bohemians.

When walking alone streets - is not scary, but it’s not fun too.

You don’t do chores, and those who are already doing them in your place disgust you very badly.

You memorize every single episode of Disney shows and they don’t entertain you any more.

You feel pathetic at times, and start being happy for some time, and then you feel like failure and angry on being both at the same time.

You start to forget the difference between the words ‘there’ and ‘their’.

You pay high prices for 'those' favorite books. And decorate them in book shelf and don’t read them.

You prefer rappers like Weezy and Eminem over classics.

When your virtual friends are your best friends.

When all you think in bathroom is to take bath or not to take bath for like 30 minutes.

When you intentionally go on rooftop of your house to count stars like in those ancient romantic stories, but your eyes hurt and being bad at counting makes you give up.

When going out repels, meeting friends repels, phone repels, reading books repels, facebooking repels, twittering repels, blogging repels, and the only attractive thing you find is to watch TV, and that too repels after sometime.

When insomnia makes you wear scary disguise and go out to scare people miles away from your town.

When after feeling a little dizzy, you think you’ve become spider man, and then you try climbing on buildings, and then falling brings you back to reality.

…But you still feel out of the world.

When your interest box on facebook says, ‘Going out, coming in, dancing on the bed, sleeping on the floor, making friends, forgetting them, thinking too much and thinking again and then giving up’. Or something like that.

When you stick your tongue out malevolently to people from car’s window and think, it teases them, but it doesn’t, but you think it does.

When you leave a post incomplete and without the epilogue like this one.

"Subtracted names in a heart shaped scar"

Monday, August 16, 2010 by B.H.
Love carved our names in maple wood
And scented the scars with my blood
Amid bruising moments, ominous weather
And torn letters’ slices – that –– winds scattered

And winds screamed our secrets in skies
The crows cawed and flew high
Over the parapets –– higher than the skies
Silence crept in the place with moans and sighs

The autumn passed by
With teary glares
Taking it all away
Memory lingers
And love remembers
And I,
Hate you
More than life


14 August Post

Friday, August 13, 2010 by B.H.

Azaadi Mubaarikaan kakay =D

(Happy independance day)

Just one question =P

The squish of mud between your toes;
how would you live your life as a frog? [:P]

Mushkil na?
Now Inshaan ban jaao, and Pakishtan she pyaal kalo![=P]

Azaadi Mubaarik Pakistan.


Posted in From: , , , | 11 Comments »

I am the only being

Tuesday, August 10, 2010 by B.H.

I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask no eye would mourn
I never caused a thought of gloom
A smile of joy since I was born

In secret pleasure - secret tears
This changeful life has slipped away
As friendless after eighteen years
As lone as on my natal day

There have been times I cannot hide
There have been times when this was drear
When my sad soul forgot its pride
And longed for one to love me here

But those were in the early glow
Of feelings since subdued by care
And they have died so long ago
I hardly now believe they were

First melted off the hope of youth
Then Fancy's rainbow fast withdrew
And then experience told me truth
In mortal bosoms never grew

'Twas grief enough to think mankind
All hollow servile insincere -
But worse to trust to my own mind
And find the same corruption there

By Emily Bronte

The Isolation.

Monday, August 9, 2010 by B.H.
And again he starts walking on the hazy lands through hilly and hollow paths towards the beacon that appears so far – so obscure in the denseness of fog, and the mere feel of cold-white-smoky-tuft on the scars taken from past is numbing the traveler, breaking away of the tensity is difficult. But he keeps on walking, and this time he falls down and doesn’t get up for a while. Clumsy his – abilities might be, but he eyes there at the top of the mountain – there! The beacon calls. He leads again, grunts in pain and starts figuring out the path. The path is so blue and cold, with no lightening bugs in it, he can’t even figure out where the end is and where the start. Hindrance of time and toils – alone are good enough to make him fall down – give up. And now he bleeds, old scars taken from the dark pages of the ruthless past open their eyes to the cold fog, the blood seems to freeze and it pains infinite and he wishes to fall. He sways and swoons, falls on the misty dust, tries to crawl and slightly moans but is injured badly in the isolated journey, no one to save him, no one to cure the ailments. The beacon calls, but his eyes are shut, and he sees, the promises he made, the full moons of those nights spent with his better half he loved the most, the memories he saved, the giggles once he heard, the chirps and laughter are now a flickering flame that is fogged and tattered in the fog now.

I learned

Friday, August 6, 2010 by B.H.
I learnt today that,

There can be no good reason to fall down. You have to, sometimes, to start it all again perfectly. But falling down isn’t necessary, you can start it all again at any stage/turn/signal.

Increase in your hate-list doesn’t bother anyone, what bothers is being in ignore list.

There are some things in life, that can’t be changed –– undone. Sometimes, you don’t get the second chances.

Being alone/numbed is like a mask, that we put on for sometime and then put it off, then put it on again and so on.

Worrying about future is like ruining the present.

Mistakes are supposed to be made, trying is important; not trying at all is like, wrapping a gift and not giving it.

There are some things, that can’t be foreseen, or sometimes we don’t want to.

Making no friends or forgetting old friends is at times good hobby.

Seeking attention should not be my thing.

Stick to what you want to do, they’ll not be there to see the consequences.

Losing important documents is not a cool thing.

Rain and mornings sometimes are good.

Crushing is a lot easier and magical than falling in love.

Worrying about your abilities can take you at the top of the ladder.

Being isolated and alone is better than being surrounded by people if you want to be something in your life.

Secrets should not exist except for few.

Praying to God is like lightening the load, I should do it.

I should not ruin my poems, no matter how awful they are.

I am not born to be a loser.

It’s better being nice than rude.

Crushing crunchy leaves is the most attractive thing I’ve ever experienced.

'Tis thy day

by B.H.

By Bahadur Hussain
Published in Us, The News International.

For thee I shall pen a poem
With no Shakespearian words
Nor like any glistering quotation
Nor like the antique birthday song

But like a tittering toil by a cunning heart,
Of - they hath not heard
Long...I waited for thy day to sun
Before time flies with the wafting leaves-

I shall, inflame the candles with sun
Dress the ballooning flossy clouds
Write thy name on the glowing moon
Sprinkle the fairy dust, white the gloom

To enfold it in beguiling glossy sheets
I shall steal it from its earth
Shall I fill these airs with flowers,
Ah, 'tis thy birthday my love!

I am a bird hailing from thy window
With a gleeful poem written in secluded heart
With a glinting moon held in yellow beak
With a gleaming twinkle of love in adust eyes

O lady! Thou canst take the moon,
Only if - Thou dost take me thy lad,
For the sake of my sleepless nights
For the pains I took in toils...

For a very, very, very special friend *heart* (not girlfriend =p)

So here I am

Sunday, August 1, 2010 by B.H.

O Earth! Thou my mother,
To thee, I bow, I smirk.

But might I fly over thee
And look for bread and butter

Dare I betray thee?
A million times dare!

So here I am, ended up waiting, waiting on the muse. My sire compelth me to stay
I know my toils’ worth, I do ask not for it. And I want no words to lose.

But what hinders me is the time
Appears a poet in disguise
A boy with cauldron of rhymes
The boy who believes in vat of lies –– fairytales, rainbows, falling stars and butterflies
Hath turned out to be lies
Oh why!

So here I am, O World

Waiting on the sun
Darkness all unfurled
The day’s just begun.
World torn asunder,
Amidst the white-hot flashes
I hear the rolling thunder,
I look down upon the ashes.

So here I am, Heaven!
Waiting on a prayer!
The bread that wouldn’t leaven
The pain I couldn’t bear.

Inside I know the truth
But my sins are not atoned
I, a prisoner of my youth
Thou, the king upon his throne

Here I am. Away, away from clichés like hurt and pain.
Numbed wholly, and they call me insane.

That blue abyss

Thursday, July 29, 2010 by B.H.

With every beginning, there’s a corresponding end. Always I observe, before something –– that starts, something ends, before night trembles, twilight ceases, before it dawns the night has to melt; there’s always one side that has to lose hence the other side bags the victory.

Sun rises up, and sets in, some smile, some cry and some die but cosmos can’t care, and chirps are on even in the lowest of the low and never stop for deaths.

This rain is too ominous to be called ‘memorable’ in a sense, but we shall remember this rain always as a dark page of our chronicles. Plane crashed yesterday, a lot of people died, deaths everywhere, I see baleful darkness and reddest of the red –– blood, I hear the moans and cries of my people screaming out for their people, but death can’t care. And now, my friend, Bilal, he passed away a week ago, but I came to know about his demise now when the raindrops are striking the tin roof of the garage outside my window so hard that I can’t even concentrate what I’m thinking. I hate that noise; literally. Ill drops are descending the stairs everywhere, going low and low making me down and down. Every grief has its background music and vision. For me, it’s the noise of raindrops crashing on tin roof.

I am too confused and shocked to recall the memories of the moments that I spent with him in class. I don’t even know how he died; I just know that I lost someone, who used to sit beside me, who was with me when nobody was; there was a sparkle of loyalty in his eyes whenever he talked which I always overlooked, but that’s a stupid cliché I’d say. Because they say death makes a person more esteemed than ever. He was not my best friend and frankly I used to sit beside him only because he was always quiet and easy to endure. I am too low to write the memories. I feel too frail to type.

How is it like when you lose a friend, nobody taught me how to react. My parents never taught, my teachers never taught, they indeed taught me the ethics, algebra, physics but not about the death of a friend? They taught me about the every kind of losses in business. What about the loss of friend? Why did they not…? And today Bilal taught me through his demise that life… it is a fickle persistence, and death is blue abyss that is to be graced with our souls, death’s silence is heavy metal’s base, no one is to heal the death’s screams, no one is to stop it, it dances its way, away from cares, from the tears and the fears, life is a frail thread and death the robust string with a kite dancing in the skies too high in its folly, and it can’t be, no one can clip it to float it away. Death lies perfectly in life’s equation, he said. We won’t be ready and its manus will clutch us in, and will take our soul away from our dear and near ones leaving them with tears in their eyes and a corpse behind. Only tears… regrets and some memories that are too painful to recall.

And as Emily Dickinson would put in,

All but Death, can be Adjusted––
Dynasties repaired––
Systems –– settled in their Sockets––
Citadels –– dissolved––

Wastes of Lives –– resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs––
Death –– unto itself –– Exception––
Is exempt from Change––

Eating (deadly dangerous) kids

Sunday, July 25, 2010 by B.H.
The humans under 15, those with the heart diseases, conservatives and not-evil AKA good people are strictly (extra emphasis on the word “strictly”) disallowed to read even a word of this post. *stares* have a nice day :).

I often wonder, what can be the synonym of baby-sitting?
Nightmare? Jeopardy? Or a night in graveyard? But I end up considering even worse synonyms than these. Right now, rather than defining this cold sounding term, I shall ask this horrifying question.

Don’t you just hate those toothpick-bodied, icky, bespectacled and pathetically weak yet idiotically genius little humans and some coward looking but unbelievably brave chubby ones too, who try to run away on winged feet after messing up with major prohibited area i.e. well… your room silly! They don’t even care about the stop, warning, danger and other deadly signs hanging on the door of your precious territory…? Don’t you? Oh yes you do!

Don’t those unholy dangerous creatures i.e. kids give you jitters? *Oh yes they do*.

I still remember when my friend came to me from his home full of *beeps beeps beeps beeps beeps* (banned words by censor board) and started telling me some tales which I didn’t want to listen and didn’t listen. But I remember these following words coming out of his mouth.
My Friend: They are wayyy worse than mental dogs, angry crows, evil teachers and strong bullies. Aaargh!! I hate these bloodcurdling feeble little kids *whimpers*.
I: Stop scaring me! (With shivering yet screaming voice) I am expecting my cousins tomorrow, and I have to bear staying with them the whole day alone *wails*. (And then it hit me yeah lol the idea. I left hurriedly to note it down before it fades away from my dinky brain).
My Friend: Hey where you going?
I: To pwn them!!! *runs away*

I’m sure you also sometimes get chased by satanic kids who try to make fool of yourself by tying something stupid on you, they think they’re smart enough to pwn you.

And they can record the whole embarrassment and shoot it on youtube :-O.

I still remember when once a bunch of satanic (ooops) kids – my little cousins came to visit us in vacations and they just ruined my things, broke my book shelf, drew stupid pictures on my walls, pissed on my bed, read my diary, asked silly questions and think of any disaster, they did! Hence I had to bear the agonizing pain of those god-awful kids staying at my home and sleeping in my room for the whole month, and I was held responsible for everything they did. Why? Why oh my why?

I, being weak, thought that avenging the cruel was out of question. But I had to do something for the others like me. And for that purpose, I sat quietly during the dark hours of electricity blues and dug out some tricks from my brain and came up with useful information about the options one can have when one is fleeing from such things.

This information is useful for you also

Following are the options and the ways discussed to escape from the dangers you normally and unfortunately face in your daily life.

You should keep the following three main rules in your mind while working on the ideas
1) Don’t panic.
2) Don’t fall down.
3) Whatever you do, don’t look back.

There are two types of measure:
1) Safe measures
2) Risky measures

Safe measures for typical cases:

Push them in the pool
This is fun, when your target is anywhere near by some pool, pond or ocean, just push him/her hard so that they can’t see who pushed them and sprint a mile away from the spot and start whistling, remember! Nothing happened, you don’t know anything!

Be nice to them and betray
Yes buy them chocolates and stuff that they like the most and keep on buttering them up until they start trusting you/ liking you, then it’s time! Then take them to mosque, zoo or park – somewhere far from your home and run away. They won’t find their way back to home. Happy 14 August :P

Steal their things
If they are being a huge pain in the neck, you be the hugest pain in their tiny butts, ruin their lives, steal their pencils, colors, all the stationery that they use for their creative projects, and don’t let them eat lay chips, snatch and run. :P The pain of getting scolded by your parents is way less than the pleasure of seeing them in miseries.

A diamond can only be cut by a diamond
As they say give them the taste of their own medicine, if they are being bugging, you be supper bugging with 20% extra on the package. They will certainly scratch their heads and give up.

Tie them and put them in store
If you are working on something and this kid is not letting you do it. Slap on his face and before he starts crying just punch him as hard as you can and then tie him/her and throw him/her in the store and lock the door.

Replace their game CDs with horror movies
My little brother plays games in nights these days or should I say not any more now. I replaced his CDs with all the horror movies that I borrowed from friends. And I enjoyed his mommy mommy sounding screams. *giggles* you should also try this, if your littlies are such pain in the neck.

Take them to Zoo, and cage them with monkeys
Won’t they all look like siblings? Nobody will know :P You might be wondering how you would steal the keys! Well, don’t look at me! Just throw them in the cage.

Pretend your room is haunted by a ghost
Kids are scared of ghosts, make strange voices at night in your room, take help of tape recorder, record the voices and play the tape after midnight. And after that, they’ll stay away from your room and dare I say “from your home”. :D

Scare them by putting on fake costume
If they unexpectedly break in your home, just put on a white bed sheet and scare them by making a strange voice that only ghosts could have. Or buy a special costume for the holy purpose.

Play negative
Must have heard that story? Union is strength. Yeah! Untie the group! Like their father untied the bundle of sticks for them to break the sticks separately in that story. And once the enmity suck their unity up, then play your cards. Aren’t you smart enough to get what I want to say?

Steal their homework at the eleventh hour
Oh yes! To avenge something unforgettable, steal their homework right before they leave for school.

Act like you have some fairy
Always talk to someone in loneliness and make sure they are peeking in your room. And when they ask, scare them, and next time, talk about their murder. Ha!

Never shake hand with kids or high five.
Shaking hand and high-five both are symbol of peace that we don’t want with kids, do we? Certainly not *glares*. So, keep this don’t in mind.

Place a monster dummy before your computer and protect it
Some kids are scared of such things, once on my little brother’s birthday, I wrapped a rubber made and scary looking spider in a glinting sheet and gave him, it was havoc at the moment he opened it, and I was totally rolling on floor laughing out loud.
So, take my advice and keep such things in front of your precious things.

Never let them ask questions if they ask don’t answer
Keep that in mind, or else you’ll suffer. Act deaf and dumb.

Always take your german shepherd with you in park
If you have a doggy and it scares people and specially kids then keep it always with you in parks or in such places where you can get in trouble with kids.

Keep toffees in your pocket to get away from troublesome situation
If you don’t have doggy then you should keep sweets in your pocket to bribe them and sneak out of the spot.

Make sure you don’t have any DVD relating to animes, disney, animated movies and kids’ stuff.
If you do have then simply throw the stuff away. Or get ready for the dangerous situation that is kids wanting you to be their friend. Scary? Yeah throw away!

Find out all the weak points and use the tricks accordingly
Kids do have weak points, and they can be used easily if you know some of them, or know one of their top secrets and enjoy life.

Get them hit by a bus
Push them on the road and get them hit by at least a bus or some bigger vehicle.

Tie them on railway track
But don’t let the train trample on your kid, just untie the rope right when you see the train, it surely will scare them.

Put them in a sack and throw them off the bridge
This is one of those measures that you use when you don’t care about circumstances and just want to get rid of them! Put them in a sack and throw them in some garbage truck or off the bridge.

Risky Measures for special cases:

Pwn them by freeing your dog
Yes, your dog or your friend’s dog, make it go nuts and head towards your target – that evil littlies’ group and set it free on them and then watch and relax. They can’t sprint up to any tree, they can’t climb up trees being little and weak. Success will kiss thy footsteps. And kids will be eaten.
And if they pwn you by freeing dog:
On seeing a dog without owner, all you have to do is act sane even if you are scared, don’t let your legs tremble and try to take control over your sweat glands, And don’t even think about running away. Because, respected dogs take it as insult and go insane. In case if an raging dog is after you, simply sprint up to a tree, and climb it, because dogs can’t climb up trees. Make sure that the dog doesn't catch up to you before reaching a tree. And if there are no trees around, you must run until you see one or climb up something else. Otherwise, dog will catch up to you and eat you.

Hire a strong bully
Be friends with existing bully at their school or hire a new one for them to ruin their tiny lives. And let the bully have fun and make sure you pay the bully regularly. Let the kid s know how it is, living a school life under some bully when your lunch box isn’t yours and you have to do double homework and always in danger of being killed.
If things go wrong and they hire the bully for you!
Just stay calm and cleverly spread rumors about your father being in police department or in secret investigation agency. Then tell smartly made-up stories to your friends about his adventurous experiences with thieves and criminals. Telling a lie for defense is not immoral. Remember! Don’t be so over clever. Take help of your bully friends. Make a puppy dog face while telling them about the other bullies. If they come again, you simply threaten them of calling the cops or of suing them, and run straight to your home – the safest place.

Pretend you are ninja
If you are expecting kids to visit you for short time period:
It is smart wearing a karate costume when they are around, (They will respect you for that), and take fake photographs of your self in black belt or during some stunts and photoshop them and bingo! Frame them in your room. And when they’re not in your room, make Jackie Chene-ian voices to scare them more and make it sound like real. I assure you they will not do anything bad, at least with you.

Go insane, lose your temper
It is never smart of anyone to mess with a mentally retarded kid but if you do, you can still run away. If you think that a retarded kid is going to attack you, you have three options:
A. Turn back, close your eyes, recite some mystical verses and then open your eyes and scream like Tarzan and fight that thing with all your strength. Punch it, slap it or bash it against the wall, Do whatever comes in your mind (In this case you may get hurt or even get martyred).
B. The better option: Take off your shirt and tie it around your neck and run as it is considered that retarded kids like aiming their claws at necks.
C. Yell at that thing and tell it to leave you alone furiously. Chances of survival using this option are about 24%.

If you don’t like these Ideas, please tell me if you have some better ones :)

P.S. Phew! I’m tired!
P.P.S. Please, do not take it seriously, and end up killing kids!
P.P.P.S. This post is for certain people.

And by the way this is my younger monster brother, Hassan, and he's ruined my life, but I love him :)....... evilly : . :P

Scary, no? You have no idea! Sigh.
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