time capsule

Hope

2012-01-05T02:48:00.000-08:00

Could I then just snuff out the flames –

Lest – at last my dewy eyes –

Extinguish my hopes –

Within ablaze, splendid flares –

Adorned on the candlewick

Could I then just efface your name –

Carved behind the solid black broken door –

Of my numb muse – and essence

Of crushed rose-scented liliaceous plants

Crimson-red with lacey rifts

crescent-shaped candles

2011-12-28T06:16:00.000-08:00

By evening, (it’s when I wake up) it’s violet…all over.And BANG! The light goes out, which (ironically) makes things more beautiful. AsDecember wears on, the weather in Islamabad is getting (un)pleasantly dry in ahorribly cold way. Winters’ keen tooth bit me too, among others’. And I havebeen sniffing and coughing ever since. I wake up…and brush my teeth and justfeel this insane urge to slap my cheeks with the aftershave. I look in themirror and then I look away and look in the mirror again, then I look awayagain, feeling worse. (Did you know that the objects in mirror are alwaysfarther than they appear?) I get dressed and comb my hair. And then look in themirror again. ‘Why don’t I look devastatingly handsome anymore?’. ‘But stillsomething, eh!’, ‘Or maybe, too sharp?’. And so I rid my head of my anxietiesand insecurities for a while. As I shake it.

Nom. Nom. Nom. Munch. Munch. Munch. Pancakes. Just onelarge bite on each slice does it. As though chewing the wood with iron teeth (ifthat’s even legit). Reaching at work. Occupying the station. Few games of TableTennis. Two cups of my imperfect tea. Few strangers ogling as if I have comefrom the Mars (They can’t possibly know that, can they?). I go through the day(or should I say…night?) just like that. But last night, being a rebel that Iam, I bought an icecream but just after just a few licks, few drops of drizzleruined it but I still licked the leftover crummy slush of sweet cream and watershamelessly. I hang with usual people with unusual accents. That crack newerjokes. Talk loud. And put on big smiles. All this while, I keep on thinking ifI cross someone’s mind…somewhere out there? Or just a passing thought?Something about me? Never knowing what’s happening or should I even fix this? Idon’t even know what’s absent? What need to be fixed? Anything? Nothing? Or maybe everything?

2011-12-24T08:40:00.000-08:00

Apair of sottish eyes, watching over an outline of delicate drapes swaying tardilyin silence so deep that I could hear the moonlight striking on the window.Every wrinkle of that ceaseless frown casting an insufferable fragrant desire.Too frail to even go near. Distant, like fireworks. Serene. Exploding emotions,awing the world. Shrieking words on the papers that hold no meaning now. Let himbe free. For once.

Alone

2011-12-22T09:29:00.000-08:00

In the sky, the sun and the horizon reach a truce and a kindof transformation takes place that engulfs every care as soon as the call for theevening prayers is heard. And the kids who had been playing – get called in oneby one…just like the birds…how they vanish into thin air just as the twilightglow of my morning engulfs everything completely. Like those kids who were madeto discontinue their play, I’ve started to resent the nights too. But we neednot. As lively as the day looks, as much as you enjoy a conversation with alovely friend, it has to end at some point. Everything is notoriously variable.

Because today, I learnt that nothing bad ever happens whenyou are made to adjust in some seemingly boring place. And I'm left with my insecurities andanxiety that evilly stick their tongues out at me in the end…nothing everhappens if you are forced to live in another world with things you detest.Things just start looking interesting, in a slow motion though…like thoseautumn leaves falling through the air…like soot wiggling in the winds.

It’s not as hard as it looks to leave your favorite placeand head for the difficult ones. It’s good to keep moving instead of stayingthere and spending your whole life going in one direction. It’s good to keepmoving. And sometimes, standing there. Alone.

A rainbow is a rainbow and will always be a rainbow...

2011-11-26T16:56:00.001-08:00

I’m still a rainbow like one from two years ago… I prefer tobe an original instead of trying to be like others. If I am like others, that’sonly by coincidence. I’m a rainbow who’s become a bit narcissist. My day startswith alarms, Regina Spektor’s Us, it’s been four months now…though it’s nothard to wake me up even in winters when the sleep is prettier than the mostsoothing serenades.

I am not much of a couch potato, but I love to watch some tellyon weekends, I read newspapers and I know what happens in this country, I haveopinions too…but I usually refrain from making opinions and I stay quiet. Iread magazines…though I am still not as fine about reading as I should be, mostof my storybooks are unread but poetry books are read at least twice, I own twoHoly Books, one in English. I am not really perfect when it comes to that, you know?I admit I skip prayers which I shouldn’t…but at least I try not to be a badhuman being.

Among things that winters bring, I like the sweet-smelling orangenessof divine oranges, besides cappuccino coffee, crunchy leaves in the start, foggypathways, flu affected voices and the fascinating mess in my room, it is one beautifulthing that I associate with winters, there’s a roguish mingle-mangle of sweetand sour delectability that comes with oranges. I still prefer sweet tea, waterand juice especially grape juice over soda.

I am not much creative, I used to paint, and I used to write,mad stuff and never ending stories and then those stories about people who don’texist and those about people who shouldn’t exist and…I don’t do much of bothnow. Oh well.

I like people who start conversations – for no reason. Ialways get the feeling that these people are the friendliest people on planet Earth.And sometimes, I like people who start conversations with a compliment. I like neckties…Ihave one for every shirt in my wardrobe. I don’t judge people by their footwearor clothes though it tells a lot which can be sometimes completely wrong.

I used to have a little feline until one unfortunate day Inoticed she was gone or maybe stolen…and then mum bought a pretty baby rose-ringedparakeet and it flew away too after few weeks like they always do and I haven’thad any pet since then. I have very few friends…to be fair. They are the nicestpeople you’ll ever know, I keep my windows open to them even when the sun isnot at a friendly angle…but I try that the light falls on them in the white silverwinters and hope that it melts into delighting springs. They are people – worthdying for, people worth living for…

Marvel

2011-11-12T07:40:00.000-08:00

You have the same peachy face after all this time, only a bit wrinkly now. You still drink in every lifelike nonsense no matter how irrelevant. I still see the tender folly and bright violet wandflowers adorned with myriad love in your tawny-brown eyes. The same somber expressions but surprisingly cheery when you feel like it, strangely mellow on some days - especially on rainy days, glowering when you read or write, deep in thought when you listen to your favorite songs and endlessly vacant when you walk. You have subtly deepened in a manner that I have too. And it's cute how you don't try to hide your teeth anymore when you laugh. Only your blackish-brown hair has changed in color, they seem faintly light and weak. Your dresses are still more stylish than you are but not a lot of people know about that. And humor, still hard to get but then, I have the same problem too. You're unearthly, lost in your own literary world, I love the songs that you sing in your enchantingly wild voice as you play the uke. And how you smell the old, frayed pages of the books before you read them. You're you and I live in a beautiful world.

whipping boy

2011-11-08T03:19:00.000-08:00

You know how goats can be creepy to some thickos. Can they not see, how incessantly innocent looking creatures God has made them and when you go near them, they stop ruminating and pause to stare at you with their huge and vacant eyes and sweetly bleat 'how do you do sir?' sort of sounds with their honeyed voice? And how some of them smile at you and shy away? How lovely individual characters and intelligence they possess, it makes me want to hug them. I love goats even though they can be thoroughly ungrateful like this one from my neighborhood, he used to eat all day long and bleat clamorously throughout the night and I was sort of glad when they killed him and it happened just a few hours ago and now I will savour his majestic mutton notwithstanding the fact that I do not have any fond admiration for it.

Well, Eid's over, and everyone's probably got rid of their goats, cows and camels including my loser neighbour who was too lazy to find a butcher and thus gave me another sleepless night. And now when I have this golden opportunity to lie down on this softest and best invention attributed to mankind called bed, I find it hard to sleep for alien reasons. I can feel the meek pain of this dull weariness in my body but my brain is alertly functional as though the shut off button of this scummy organ is broken. So, I imagined a paradise in my head with two glorious gardens and two gilded streams of honey and tried to imagine a random love song by Elvis Presley playing in the backdrop but all I could hear was the bleating of this daft goat from my neighborhood! I wonder when will this ghost of that daft goat stop haunting and let me be calm as a child in dreamless slumber! Sigh. I can really use a wish right now...

2011-07-16T15:14:00.000-07:00

If she is –– to weave a cambric dream
On the side of a stream – in the meadow green
With no crinkles –– nor any needlecraft
Tracing a stark pattern of my felicitous grimace
And so that lady is forever mine.

If she is –– to glean in a sack of linen
The battalions of rippling scarlet harvests
And – to stir that all in the heather mixture
For me alone – on the leaf-crested ground
And so that lady is forever mine.

If she is –– to show me a purified town
Inside the piquant water or the sea chain
Washed grounds – by her so many tears
And dispersed nuggets that shed off her eyes
And so that lady is forever mine.

- B. Etch.

Learning to Fly

2011-05-30T16:23:00.000-07:00

I might not go to heaven because the worldly concerns have tinged my life but when the Earth will disband, I’d just hope to get a chance to say hi to you and, I won’t feel good if I didn’t get a chance because, I would absolutely hate it. No explanations. Gandhi said, whatever you do in life – will be insignificant but it’s very important that you do it, ‘cause, no body else will. Just forget the second part. If you could imagine the deeds hidden behind the misty glass of amnesia and people would not have the time to wipe and peek through it. It’d be impossible, like looking for a red dirt grain in a desert. Lost Turkish boxwood filled with memories? So why not stop fixing this jigsaw puzzle and wake up every morning like it’s the first morning of your life and look closely at the world around you and find your place in it? And when the self-deceit becomes difficult and you feel like saying hurtful things, when you’re fed up with practicing nice and fine things; and you neither want to hold on to rites nor try to create something new to follow. It’s all part of transforming into something better, because we’re never finished, we always change, from good to better, from young to old. Every day, you experience new things that affect your thinking process or maybe it’s just me. Setting new digits in my brain as my age, turning from eighteen to nineteen, thinking that I’d be respected, planning to do new things, like…to never spare a kid calling me “Uncle” and not caring about those poor lads I’d called that years ago and especially the ones who still dislike being called one? Life should be more beautiful now that I have turned nineteen, but it’s a shame that I’m still a teenager. Well, life isn’t a cup of hot chocolate. Turning nineteen for the first time and they did not have any lucrative or scholarly birthday gifts to offer me except for one person. But then again, everything is fair like Karma. But I can squeeze the joy out of it. With all the thoughts of love and appreciation that I might never get, I can still make something nice out of it. I will always do what I have always done. Create distance and stick my tongue out to attachments because attachments are the root of all the misery in your life and it’s a liability. Instead I will just smile while watching Ben Ten on TV and playing video games with my siblings, take pleasure in trying to count the spirals of the ceiling fan, in reading newspapers in the hot summers’ noondays while listening to the heavenly melodies of my father’s choice and laughing like hyaenas at the wittiest jokes and crying like babies over smallest of things – with their blown up pinkish chubby cheeks. And remember the old days when we used to watch the shooting stars in twilight with awe. And the dusty yellow pale moon and its shimmering in the pool. And dewdrops on lilies. The musk. And the pleasure while trying to make a goat laugh on Eid-ul-Azha’s day. And the frown of a rose-ringed parakeet. Teenage infatuations and the bittersweet feelings of crimson pain. I will count my blessings and write them down for the time when I will need them. But for now, I need sleep. Lots of it.

Noon

2011-05-17T05:02:00.001-07:00

The crow upon the block on an ardent day

There swiftly perches

And shaft of the light of a higher temperature

Kisses womanly grimace

There lives a soul in frigid hour of mind

Too dull to notice

The nap of an infant – the crowing of a babbler

Remembering a wraith

A shade lingers upon that honeyed soul

As when on noonday

And then drifts away – the another cloud too

As we love to estimate

The consistency of the variable shades

In false mathematics

Rose petals on grave

2011-05-16T15:08:00.000-07:00

Look at you! You look like a happiness-deprived person, insanely coveting the energizing source like you would hope for a frosty bottle of your favorite drink while wandering in a scorching desert. I guess everything would be pretty funny without attachments, I mean that – in both ways. I feel like, I’m caught in a twister; flying around countless spirals. Circles, with no end to them. It’s not pleasant. My fingers scrabble at my throat to loosen the tension of this invisible cord that is choking me and I don’t find it.

I’ve spent my all day hoping that I’d feel better because I have a worldly end to attain. This fever of resentment has affected me worse today but tomorrow you’ll see me at bay. I have so many strangest words to write off – tonight – but I’m not going to do that – like always. Enough poetic bullshit! Why do I always have to sound like a moron? Every cloud has a silver lining and this cloud has one too –– because I have so many things on my list that I won’t even have the time to think about things that don’t matter anymore. And that’s it.

I think I’m okay now.

...

2011-05-12T03:05:00.000-07:00

Being friends with those guys is worse than picking baby poop and I don’t know why I even compared picking baby poop with something like that, seriously! The other day, I had the sheer misfortune of watching this horrible movie “Yes man” and while I was having that nightmare, they called, “dude, we are going to The Hills to watch the whole city from there. We got everything. You down?” and before I could think of something to say, “Cool. We’ll pick you up.” *hangs up*. And there, I smoothly managed to ruin my day because I thought saying no to things brings bad things in life. Oh how I regret watching that movie. I disdain such “hang outs”, I even hate the word and especially with those emo looking morons! It’s just. Totally ridiculously absurd. And now, I unwaveringly believe the mystical idea of following your heart and staying away from the stuff you know you will regret in the long run. There was an unusual difference in “his” style of telling stories and of ridiculing the others that night. And then they all started saying things I loathe to hear. They were attempting so pathetically to come at each other as if their whole lives were at stake. Oh forget the eating-up-everything-with-bare-hands-and-then-cleaning-the-hands-with-my-awesome-black-shirt because you have become a bare faced jackass, my old chum, what was that all talking of funny clips posted on social networking website part about? Lame. And there were oh-so-pathetic attempts on lamest jokes ever heard. What the heck was that mimicking Mr. Bean part about, while everyone watched you in pity? Why were you smoking tobacco, my old chum? What are you like 17, right? My old chum, you were the worst character and very uncool when you were calling me ‘your boyfriend’ because you had nothing else to bitch about. Now please tell me, which lunatic person proclaimed that old is always gold and old pals are mystically united with a holy thread and nothing can part them when I can see that you’ve become moth-eaten in your hostel in just two years. Sometimes, cute chicks grow into wild and ugly biddies and you’re that wild and ugly biddy and when you’re like that, you should understand that people can get scared to death when you open your mouth. Silence is your only option, it’s golden! And then there were my pals Qz and Saim, who were quiet but they had this huge grin on their faces unlike me, I don’t know what were they thinking but I didn’t find my perfect cushion to fall on – in anyone. Nope.

Mr. Friendly

2011-05-10T10:30:00.000-07:00

Maybe, it’s insomnia that’s making me write on my blog when everyone’s catching some Z's. Even though, Daddy told me not to use computer for a month, I’m here. Sigh. Look at me, how ill-disobedient kid I have become. But what do you expect me to do when you know that I haven’t gotten even a pinch of sweet slumber in two 24-hour intervals? 48 hours straight! Not that, I’ve started to look like a zombie or weird looking unicorn or something, I just like to complain, I guess.

Like you know I’m not Mr. Friendly and all. Something happened yesterday, it was one of those days when I feel like hiding myself in some corner away from people or going to my favorite place, that is my room – right away.

It seemed all he knew was that he was having “some fun” so he humiliated me in front of 25 strangers who could easily guess that I just wanted to go home and I didn’t feel safe. Were I not a gentleman, I would have done something terrible. And maybe, that’s why I don’t get attached to people. And from now on, I don’t give a damn. I don’t want to “hang out” with them anymore. Oh well, Lydia says there’s a difference between being funny and being a-hole just for fun. You rock my friends but I’m going to create a little difference and I’m sorry for that. Rejoice! You guys are too great to be my friends. Goodbye. I have so much to write here, good things and bad things but I’m afraid I’m running out of time. Oh well.

In other news, I think I’ve lost my sense of humor. Well, I know, this news is too timeworn and all, like I care. So, we shall be attending 4 weddings this summer. It’s going to be so much fun because, they are all my relatives - my ‘that cousin’ and his sister who also happens to be my cousin LOL! And Brown Suger who happens to be my maamoon and his sister who is my Khala. These are 4 separate marriages with different people. *laughs* Well, that’s enough for now, news when I’m hurt, not when I’m not. Ha.

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

2011-05-09T12:44:00.000-07:00

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

I’m ready to go; I had fastened the Belt

Too long ago!

So letting it go –– and crossing the brink ––

Bonnets may blow –– in the wind!

For I dwell not anymore –– upon Graven Ink

Old –– we grow with Desires that float to sink ––

Eventually though.

But – dare I steal the quill feather ––

of your white-hot hat, ma’am?

So the ink could flow –– to heal the kink.

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

How odd it sounds!

Like those violet rifts ––

Within the grey clouds in cerulean sky

Exceptions!

Goodbye to the life I used to live

Kiss the Flowers and the Hills for me ––

Bid the Rainbows goodbye!

And look upon the times just once

When I tended the daisies for you ––

‘Twas the smallest hour of all

That felt longer than a century ––

Stepped onto the falls together

And brushed the summers by.

I will send You – this Gem from my ring ––

How dim it sounds –– like the murmur of the Bee –– on a rainy day –

Rustle of the fencing –– in the longest night

I’m ready to go to the town –

Strewn with the Down

Where autumn leaves glow as ruby across the walkways

And there! The poetess of my dreams!

Such a small room she keeps.

Almost contented people. Bliss, Oh Lord!

Where am I and how far is it to heaven?

How fair it sounds!

When I lie down and hear the murmur of Nature ––

And sleep ––

On the heavenly grounds.

- B. Etch.

Oh prancing letters!

2011-04-30T13:19:00.000-07:00

Oh prancing letters! – aggrieving the mind,

Waltzing upon the – bending stream,

Meaning – ivory tippet of that lady kind –

Nor the zilch essence of a forgotten dream.

All the letters –– I can remember

Are not as fine as this ––

Musings of plush ––

Velvet-textured –– square paragraphs,

Profundity –– as deep –– as dying crimson ––

Scattered on the canvas ––

Hid in the magic box ––

And in the splashes of mincing bucketfuls ––

And sometime –– when thou playest a tune ––

With that buzzing bee of Potwar

In sleep

Yet upon thy golden palms ma’am ––

Each dawn is last, thou dost say.

Nighttime

2011-04-20T10:56:00.000-07:00

Like, when lilac-colored cotton curtains sway to and fro – and the moves are contemporized with the western winds. When strands of light leak through the gilded rifts from behind the curtains magnifying the aura. It is queasy, strangely, when the eyes are fixed on the rotted posy of endearing flowers – lying on the checkered floor.

...

Feeling nothing but numbness – standing alone…surrounded by the countless mirrors – reflecting countless sickish dark shapes and shadows squeaking something God knows what over and over again. Countless hairy clawed fangs filled with poisonous hatred. And on my right hand, they reflect the unorganized modern furniture covered with the off-white sheets paled by the dirt in a mellowly lit room and different scattered shades of inkiness and decorated with poison ivy in numerous strange looking pots. Thinking…about the pictures of us while passing beneath the ebonies, about the secrets that fled the hearts and wiggled freely with the winds and vanished inside them.

...

There’s too much anger in the winds tonight, beating back everything, papers squirming violently, trees flickering back and forth as if to grasp something other than the darkness. Trying to haze over my thinking. It is not merry because, merry it is not. Hands of the clock are speeding – until the moment that is supposed to absorb everything inside it, from the largest piece of the furniture to an empty packet of chocolate chip cookies lying on the floor.

Railroad Tracks

2011-04-12T09:50:00.000-07:00

I’m kind of boring, aren’t I? I don’t make sense and it occurred to me recently that I don’t have much to say most of the times I just let people carry the conversation and chip in a little bit here and there. I can’t figure out where the offset is and where the end. Neither can I slow it down like motion picture so that I can pinpoint something from it and make an opinion about it or tell myself that this is where the problem lies. I did not know how’s it like having a head filled with air, now I know.

Frankly, I’m just a silly boy who pretends to be genuinely smart and thinks he knows everything but in reality he knows nothing about anything. I make mistakes everyday and now it appears I have started a series of mistakes linked to each other like a railroad of hassles that does not end ever, like a yon structure made out of lego-set that you can’t help rebuilding again and again. Daisy chain of mistakes that I can’t, just can’t stop building. My railroad is deceiving me this time, it looks the same old rusty and drear something – wherever I look at it from. Like every daisy looks alike, innocently alike. Arousing smiles. Ingenuously deceiving.

So help me Lord, I beg.

From My Book Of Dreams

2011-03-16T04:28:00.000-07:00

I have seen,
The nights being showered with the scent -
Of when the lady-of-the-night blooms,
And when the desires become fragrant,
Under indigo skies and salmon clouds -
And in azure eventides...
Pressed summer damask roses,
In the notebooks of the wishful thinkers...
I have felt
Summers' winds blazing away -
The eye sockets of elderly souls...
I have seen,
The lush energy of rippling of -
The very first ripe strawberry...
And strawberry geranium hiding -
The patches of soil in the backyard...
I have seen,
The emptiness and sunshine -
My guests - on the same day...
Aircrafts spewing hazy stallions-shaped clouds,
In the month of March...
And thorny bushes bruising the bosoms -
Of freshly arrived lovebirds...
And paintings of dreamt up fantasies...
I have seen,
People searching for truth, innocence -
And even God - in mortals...
I have seen and wondered,
And wondered some more...
On ivory sand deserted beaches,
In the violet-coloured Mornings...
And while treading carelessly -
Over the scattered daisies...
And yes, I have seen,
Withered daisies, barren lands...
And people watering them -
With tears...
I have seen,
People ageing in moments,
First, soulless manikins,
And then forehead wrinkles, hollow bones,
And twitching eyelids till the end...
I have felt,
The crimson-yellow feeling -
Of deaths of humans...
And of missing the better days -
In the best days...
I think, I have seen -
You in my dreams...

Words on Paper

2011-02-27T02:17:00.000-08:00

Paper neath the pen,
Looks at me with a knowing smile,
Asks me the reason behind my facial expression.
Paper neath the ink,
Tells me it's okay, for haps can be wrong at times,
And for that, we are not to be blamed..
Words lay naked on papers to be read.
Words written in silence, in mute testimony
As whispering winds play with poetic woes
The amalgam of mellow serenades between our hearts
And the howling chilly sounds of sorrow...
And sonorous tunes played on Cupid's bow
Words lay naked on papers to be read.

Verbosity

2011-02-24T06:13:00.001-08:00

I'll tell you what a dream's made of... The moment when a snowdrop windflower glistens against the Moonshine. An enchanting Ecstasy, a piece of mystic Paradise. Few prunella modularis' Chirps on a farsighted pine. Amalgam of feelings in an Exalted saint's disguise. It takes the air and moons on for none but a mislaid Joy. It yens for a lily-white daisy - the blood-red Dream. Then a fulminant Drift of fear and a winged-heart ally. That's how a dream open its eyes. But how it breaks is different than it could ever seem. A Cut of reality, pitiless Pain or glistening crimson Gleam, sorrow of Solitude and horror of Denial are different stories. It's like a funeral of Warmth that forbade the Cold. Funeral Of hope that shaped a shangri-la away from Trouble. A Dearth of tears on a mournful eve or when the night Trembles. The night whose hint is a long time but Wave is the year. And like a perpetually mazed sorrowful Twinkle in her eyes or when the Auburn Wisps whiten and when a coven of faeries Tumble down. When glossy Clouds of candyfloss glory flight afar. Because dewdrops are the games of morning-field of gazing grain - like Emeralds lolling down the bedewed blades of grass But there's a world dear, there's a world!

Last night I had a very bad dream about me failing in the exams again. I woke up at 3 in the morning and studied to satisfy the little frightened kid that lives inside me - like those oddballs I used to laugh at. Then the frightened child cowered in the corner of my bed and tried to sleep but just could not so I wrote those lines *points the index finger at the long-winded lines above*. I just had to do something with my sleepless night. To add to it, it was my exam today, Business Taxation. Business Taxation is my favorite subject and that is because of that awe-inspiring kind of professor. The exam did not go that well though. I was sad for a while but then I came out and found out that all my friends were rubbing their heads with a weird look on their faces and told me that it went horrible and all like all guys say after an exam. They said the topper will have to take the rest to Pizza Hut. And you know what, it'd be Ce or B.H. We are cool like that. I know I should not be fretting about it here and should be sitting next to my dad watching the match on TV or maybe I should be studying something for the next exam. Wait a second? Am I fretting? Nope! But I just can't feel it. A little misstep can make me feel so low.. I'm so tired.. I'm really tired. I want to sleep forever and a day! Someone slap me or something!

daisy-bush

2011-02-19T09:50:00.000-08:00

Today was incredulously dull. I felt oddly unstrained. Strange because, I have gotten back into the race... race where time begins to matter, the blood in your veins races with the hand of the clock face on your wall, cell phone, every screen, building - everywhere - every second. The tick tock reminds you of everything you must do before sleep and significantly, of curbing any further missteps that can throw you off balance and turn your world upside down.

I want to write it all and watch the flow of the ink and the thoughts of this glum mind, the black fluid and the glowering thoughts spread across the lily-white page in archaic bards' runes. Every move of the quill pen smooth and refined. Neat. I want to. But, I'm contagiously distressed so I will just send the signals of distress over to you.

Spam

2011-02-14T14:18:00.000-08:00

Not after very long, some people unlock their true selves when they are done pretending to be good (read: being what they are not). And how shamelessly they expose. Normally, there are chances that the smashingly flamboyant show of truthfulness at every step of a person has to do something with their inner trait called selfishness. Like today I saw a person opening up the real them. You! I don't really care you know but I have a problem with you. Notion is simple. I think people like you should not exist, your existence is something ridiculously absurd, it's beyond my understanding. The fact 'you exist' is a fact due to some serious technical error. "Your existence" is painful and dangerous to human race Do this wonderful world a favor and please die. You broke a friend's heart, you treat people like trash and I can't be happy when one of my friends is not. Even if he weren't a friend, what you did to a person was totally unfair. I wish your would be half witted better half is a would be bald-headed gentleman but you're too blindly in love to notice that. I really hope you step on a Lego set barefooted. How I wish you have a writer's block workaday and especially during exams. I wish you suffer from the real insomnia. I wish you forget your admit card in your favorite subject's exam. I hope the last page of your favorite 1000 page novel is missing. I hope you write a poem and your favorite poet plagiarizes it. I hope you download the wrong torrent everytime you try to download Black Swan, you wanted my DVD right? Die! I hope there's no loo when you barely can stand. I hope your boyfriend dumps you for some Razia Bibi from Sialkot. I hope your daddy is in your bookface with fake account named Ryan Bieber and you don't know. I hope Mark Zuckerberg himself bans your ugly existence from bookface. I hope your driver hits on you nonstop. I hope you never see a shooting star. I hope you live a life without chocolates. I hope it rains dead crows on you. I know you wronged. We all do, but there's a limit, you cross it like you don't give a fudge. I really hope you make amends. I seriously do - not because I care for you or something. But because I care for the other people around you. Ugh. Enough attention.

A cissy's 12-hour interval

2011-01-28T02:29:00.000-08:00

Today my fave-friend the Ce got humiliated by Mr. Coolheaded Bald-pated for asking a question about something that Mr. Coolheaded Bald-pated was about to discuss.

Today, I learned all the three methods of recording cost entries viz. Lifo, Fifo, Average cost of material in material control ledger card and then posting the entries in separate ledgers under the mentioned methods and few more things.

Today, I smiled my best smile at something that’s a routine now.

Today, I told a friend what the word “sissy” actually means.

Today, some cyber friend I know for few months, asked me to meet him.

Today, Aimz made me a sandwich. That was quite unsolicited, but I ate it anyway, it was so nice of someone so not-really-nice-to-me.

Today, only Ce and I of fantastic-five were present and we had a great time together, we went to the café, we tried going in the Masters’ block to steal a magazine from their library that we couldn’t find in our library but we just didn’t go there because... Ce felt famished and we had to go to the café.

Today I told Ce that “Suck” isn’t a bad word, we, the friends should use it quite often… at home...ahem. He was actually convinced by the way I adorned my arguments.

And Usama was sick.

Today, I took part in an exhibition that is expected to take place in a few days. I have 70 Us’ issues and Bill has about 30 issues of Spider and few issues of Newsweek. Ce told me that he will take care of my stall, because that’s what friends do.

And I love it when some professor is being really nice to some dumb students. I realize that it’s a random blah. But, do I care?

Today, Doctor Saif was not wearing his glasses for some obscure reasons; everyone wondered what might have happened to him last night. So, majority couldn’t focus on what he was teaching.

Today, paper boy didn’t throw the newspapers (at us). I did not phone his boss about it.

Today, they did not publish Poets’ Corner in Us magazine.

Today, I found two pages on which few poems and love quotes were written, and a few doodles of an emo boy and a girl were there too. Poems were well written and sad. Ce told me that someone’s going to fail this year. I just smiled and prayed for that person in my head. And outside, I LOL’d.

Ce and I thought about playing volleyball, just thought.

Today sun’s not shinning. And it’s not really cold.

Today, I learned that they have changed Eman’s name, it’s “Raina” or “Ryna” now. Cute little infant Aww.

Today, Brown Sugar tried to do a prank but 29^th of February is an oldie now, try again in next leap year Brown Sugar. But, I pretended I did not know. I like it when they take me as a fool.

Today, I haven’t still changed my uniform.

Today, I received a text message in the morning.

It’s three o’clock already and the light has no plans of going out.

Today, I thought about blogging but I had nothing to write about but I did it anyway.

Of Bards and Dreams

2011-01-20T09:32:00.000-08:00

I do not have the words to mantle the stunningly splendiferous –– graven sentiments –– with scented sandalwood of imaginations –– embedded in the visions I woolgather and in my hazy thoughts, I searched…I walked through hollow and hilly lands and looked for the needful words, I read every page of my skylark’s songbook but no word could draw what was before my eyes. That was when I secretly smiled at the feebleness of words –– before what my eyes could see, what I could feel. It was so much easier for me to give in to my visions than to grapple with – to mantle them with those weak, so frail words. So much easier. So, I gave in.

Dreams

2011-01-15T01:15:00.000-08:00

All people dream, but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recess of their mind,
Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.

By D.H. Lawrence

Amongst the Hiccoughs

2011-01-12T07:23:00.000-08:00

Hey bloggy *pokes* been a while?

I feel bottled up right now but since I’ve logged in, I should leave a note. The days are going strange rather quaint. I, daily stare at and inside my olde worlde books and stuff the theoretical stuff off the pages – in my already saturated brain. At times, brainpan literally hurts. I hiccough on the sight of few theories, few problems that are unimaginable to me, stochastic digits and the spine-chilling definitions. But, it’s okay; I’m kind of, sort of…maybe exaggerating the fix. In reality, I like the situation. It is fun when you are (not really) alien to something and you’re grappling to master it, personally I like this practice. My sibling keeps on reminding me that I really have to work hard this time and every time he does so, I give him a go-away look, but he doesn’t understand the look-language and…you know he starts boring me. Speaking of boredom, you know I attend a lot of lectures, few at college and the rest at sweet home, few of them, I heed to and the rest, I hear but…so you can view the picture. Baba is in Karachi these days so I don’t get that motivational stuff that revolves around the gist that is “boosting the upshot” on regular basis these days.

Apart from all this, I’m growing a love-plant for literature again, read “for freaking pawn of Satan” which I’ll have to clip before it grows taller and bigger than one could imagine. Probably, because, I can’t afford distraction atm. I remember last year, when I used to write cool stuff on the last pages of my note books. Well. Must not talk of that.

There were times when I used to have nightmares regularly. Weird times. Nowadays, I covet for dreamless sleeps and I haven’t had one in an infinitely long time. The sleep –– just like a little death with no vision seen in between –– and each day a new reincarnation. A reason to thank the Almighty Allah. Dreams are bad for health – for my health.

I start my day very early. Forgetting unneeded memories, some people and forgiving is one of the first things that I do, that’s easy for me because I have a weak memory; thus, I take “the only advantage” off it. And I have been watching a lot of movies lately, well that’s not a news, is that bloggy? The news is, I’ve been buying them. Because, downloading movies has become like ew for me. You should know that I dislike things for no good reason and also, I like things for no good reason. Enough about me. I think I should cease writing this post now – the first post of this year. So…well, goodbye. =)

If I could Bribe Her by a Daisy

2010-12-27T12:16:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-12-23T12:03:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-30T00:18:00.000-08:00

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 10^th! Yes, I stood 10^thin 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.

Except

I was a kid then.

Life was smooth then.

I was intelligent then.

I was confident then.

Blah.

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

2010-11-15T07:17:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-05T00:19:00.000-07:00

I … failed.

I’m going to burst. For sure.

Dear God,

…

Yes,

I will not pray, no never.

Yes, God, I’m a complete rebel now.

D W Y W, I don’t care.

I T L D O M L

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.

Better.

I failed.

Unfair.

Very.

I don’t even need a bear hug.

Not even mom’s.

Say what you want to.

Hurt me.

For I failed…

I… quit.

Goodbye.

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,
...

The lone wolf in the street

2010-11-03T13:37:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-29T15:19:00.000-07:00

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!

Princess

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. =)

Shagufta

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.

Tazeen

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. =)

Xehra

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. =)

Salman

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. 2^nd 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

2010-10-27T07:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-21T09:15:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-20T04:27:00.000-07:00

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! =/

Solace

2010-10-18T14:04:00.001-07:00

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.

Aghast!

The Art of Forgetting

2010-10-08T08:11:00.000-07:00

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. =)

Unnamed

2010-10-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

Phool rangeen

Sarkain sunsaan

Mizaaj sangeen

Udaasiyo ki shaam

Mujhe main samaye

Aur main naadaan

Aur pagal. Bus pagal.

Moral

2010-10-03T14:08:00.000-07:00

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

-B.H

A Mask without the Face

2010-09-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-20T12:04:00.000-07:00

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.

And

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

2010-09-12T04:03:00.000-07:00

“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

2010-09-11T07:52:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

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.

Sobs.

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

2010-09-05T03:15:00.000-07:00

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.

Solitude

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 –

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=654&magId=9

***

“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
http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=673&magId=9

I was never like that

2010-08-30T05:44:00.000-07:00

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.

But…

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

2010-08-25T06:08:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-25T06:02:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-23T02:40:00.000-07:00

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.

So

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

And.

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? >_<

Peace!

The ‘pathetic’ factor

2010-08-18T08:43:00.000-07:00

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"

2010-08-16T02:59:00.000-07:00

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
Now
Memory lingers
And love remembers
And I,
Hate you
More than life

-B.H

14 August Post

2010-08-13T00:24:00.001-07:00

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.

Peace!

I am the only being

2010-08-10T04:07:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-09T05:42:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-06T05:09:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-06T01:13:00.000-07:00

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...
http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=762&magId=9

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

So here I am

2010-08-01T08:04:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-29T06:10:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-25T04:06:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer:
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:
Then:
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.

An unanswered question

2010-07-21T06:20:00.000-07:00

What do you see with your eyes closed? What do you see in a foggy morning? What do you feel in sleep? What is written on the moon? What does a goat think when she is alone? Where does the water go, where does it come from? Why does the thunder follow the lightening? Why does it rain? Why do we breathe? Why do you have to live?

These all questions have answers that I don’t want.

Teenage musings… change my life. Please.

Why does that star shine? What is God? Why is He? Why do these tears trickle down? Why do they stream? Why does it hurt right in the middle of my heart? Why do I love you? Why don’t you love me back? Why it has to be like this? Why not like that?

Possibilities are every where, spread all over –– more than dirt-grains in a dingy cemetery, more than the stars in the sky in a clear night from the highest point, more than all the flowers, from this corner to that corner of this planet. She tells ––– I listen.

Why does she tell me every time…? Dare I ask you something? She always tells me to dare? Why? I ask this time… She is speechless… She is still ––– motionless ––– still. I know she won’t talk –– answer.

I am the fickle existence ––– like weather.

Say something. Change my life. Please.

I beg, I moan.

I want this cliché to become a surprising event.

Depression days - MCR.. Demolition lovers

2010-07-15T07:53:00.000-07:00

History is mystery! Past is just past...

But I still remember. And ah? you're awake again? I wish you die!

Demolition Lovers

(My room)

Hand in mine, into your icy blues
And then I'd say to you we could take to the highway
With this trunk of ammunition too
I'd end my days with you in a hail of bullets

I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know just how much you mean to me
And after all the things we put each other through and

I would drive on to the end with you
A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full
And I feel like there's nothing left to do
But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running

But this time, I mean it
I'll let you know just how much you mean to me
As snow falls on desert sky
Until the end of everything
I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know how much you mean
As days fade, and nights grow
And we go cold

Until the end, until this pool of blood
Until this, I mean this, I mean this
Until the end of...

I'm trying, I'm trying
To let you know how much you mean
As days fade, and nights grow
And we go cold

But this time, we'll show them
We'll show them all how much we mean
As snow falls on desert sky
Until the end of every...

All we are, all we are
Is bullets I mean this

As lead rains, will pass on through our phantoms
Forever, forever
Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning
Forever, and ever
Know how much I want to show you you're the only one
Like a bed of roses there's a dozen reasons in this gun

And as we're falling down, and in this pool of blood
And as we're touching hands, and as we're falling down
And in this pool of blood, and as we're falling down
I'll see your eyes, and in this pool of blood
I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever

P.S. I am officialy a weirdo now. Whatever.

Why do you poetize the life?

2010-07-14T06:50:00.000-07:00

By B.H.

“How shall I wonder not, and ask?
The answers you hide – to unmask”
She looked suspicious –– I had to tell her–––
About the mystery –– ironical and artificial
“If you could spill your dreams out of yourself”
Now she gleams, or it merely seems
A fickle stillness surrounds the place
Of an inside out imagination –– a craze
But no word can tell ––the reason
A walk with solitude? A ride to past?
I asked myself, but–– I told her about
A jolly parrot with no frown––
But a folly smile on its face
It could sing the serenades of love
Far better than the angels of heaven above
A coven – prettiest choir singers
The feelings of love – an innocent felon
Roads ––that sailed and I just stood still
An owl that amused them with its musings
About the giggles of sparrows, the chirps of girls
And about a coward scarecrow and evil crows
How is it living a life –?
A good – in a bad – a life in fog
I told her – pointing at a flossy cloud
“It looks like us” before the sea view
She listens, smiles and kisses my cheek
Quicksilver imaginations! –
Sigh. It was mere a dream.

From my pen, to my diary

2010-07-11T06:02:00.000-07:00

"You are an epic failure, who couldn’t even get his things fixed uptil this day? Day of harvesting!" I hear her saying with a bitter glare and I nod.

So silently, that I start hearing the inner me. A sore tear trickles on the fluffy carpet. And visions yet again come before the closed eyes as ever.

I, whose edges of sanity are always tinged with illusions and confusions. From whence – my delusion deposited in me the harshness and the bitterness – how can I get it fixed?

Beckoning are these major stunning lights of fascinating sinful, beautiful city and yet I resist – I strain – to free her grip from my wrist – wiggle and squirm, wrestle and twist…

And still she pulls me in the crowd – and introduces me with her friends – wearing the solid masks - despair. I even hate the first sight of life. I am not born for this – not for that – not for her – not for you but for this which starts from S and ends with E – the solitude.

Relentlessly pulling – my hand towards the people, she has the epic love for me, that can make my death so peaceful and heavenly, but I am silly or genius. And I try to flee, I can’t break away – the tension – Igniting as – now I want to stay and now as – I break through to sanities side – my eyes leak obtusely – as I realize, the place I’ve come back to… Is chock full of lies…

But I don’t want to stay, leave me, I love thee and I hate it. I am overwhelmed with anger on being piteous and yet feel piteous on being raging and then this monster – hatred comes – as I sprinkle it on both feelings, and I still have this monster – I’m opening the cage… But don’t go! I want you to hate you; I love you to hate you. I am the darkness lost in night, find me.

Dwelling of Past

2010-07-08T23:35:00.000-07:00

By Bahadur Hussain
(Published in Us, The News International)
July 09, 2010.

As if a pile of dirt - tramples my heart
As if a deep abyss - calls my name
And leaves me - a reason to fall apart
As if shackled in - sore cold chain
And I still live in - that dwelling of past
In those snows of love in the year - last
When thy departure seemed - ail in frost...

And it kills a part of me each time
Ailing from inside
Ailing from outside
But where will I go and hide?
If the dwelling is built in my mind...
But I have so many delights to see
Apart from this longing to be free
From the cold shackles
In such a life - not ample
And of eternal longing
Of happiness...
Yet another illusion

So I look at the sky
And shed silent tears
And wish a wish
The raindrops fall
To wash away my tears
To save me from all my fears
To take me away from all my cares...
http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=695&magId=9

Mind your language: Slang "twitch"

2010-07-07T06:20:00.000-07:00

My random dislike!

I seriously dislike your bloody lame slanguage on facebook, twitter and everywhere! So, stop posting these posts at least when I’m online! Normally Pakistani slanguage users alter the spellings of original word to make it cool. Check these statuses out, “In hoxpetal, givin birth.”, “wax havin fun buh kaat ba kaaps!”,”Yo! In mah room imma breathin, sxup?”, “lawl chk dis link out! Dis ix freakin osomestik Uh!”, And “In waxhrum, doin errr *suppressed*”, “X: eyo? xxup? Y: Err Imma smokin weed!”.

Some days ago, someone told me that my jeans looked “spun”. And I was like (O_O), err sorry? He said, “kwl! yay!” haha I couldn’t hold back my laughter, and thought, kool and cool are now outdated and the term “kwl” is also like “so a month old!” Now they say “spun”. OMG! This CD is wicked spun! Eh? OMG is now OMFG, OMFD, Omgooosh and whatever. Some stupid people call their dogs in wonder like, “O my dog!”

My friend told me that, “Justin Beiber’s songs are gay”. Insert a Major (with capital M) LOL (with capital L) here. I mean what the heck? As far as I know the word “gay” has two meanings, one is “very offensive” and not-to-be-discussed-here and the second one is happy, fresh and bright! But never (with eyes closed or opened) try to say, “I am feeling gay today” because the first meaning is dominant. Thanks to slang! Which is now slanguage. Thanks to slang users.

And then those less-than-3-is-equal-to-a-heart-terms i.e. <3 are also in and are considered normal everywhere! And the other one! “Bleh!” I personally like this, because I guess this term is maybe derived from the word “blaah” which was derived from the phrase, “Blah Blah Blah”, I am not going to tell you what “bleh” means, go google yourself! My cousin updated a status 4 months ago and it was, “Yo! Gabba Gabba”. It horrified me as I opened my explorer in no time to google this thing and later I found that it was a TV show in Australia! Phew! (BACHHAT) LOL! Even our local paindoo boys in Urdu, they say “meko aap boht chi lgti how! *acha bacha*”, “Yaaw haawn naw tum meki gar pe aao tum ki dawat ki huwi hei aawj *budha gujjar*!” and “Yaaw son wo teri fown both hi anni hai yaaw!” Orite dis is enuff naw! g2g ttyl! “O yeah I went there!”. You are pathetically laughable! Haha! I think, I “pwn” you (slanguage-users) now! (ooopsi :P) And by the way if you don’t know what “pwn” is! You are soo outdated! *evil* muahaha!

My faith is shaking – meaningless post

2010-07-06T06:49:00.000-07:00

It seems those things weren’t even in my blood, flairs perch in my mind and then fly away. My faith shakes for once I had the flair of touching apex in what I was determined to do. My faith shakes, when I feel unable to do this thing. If my faith shakes more, I shall quit. I cannot live in earthquakes…

Stare at my burning
The fiery shadows dance
Stare at my escape

The smoke carries me
Strung together the gray floats
My ashes fly free

The cycle furthers
This life is harsh and deadly
Learn to die freely

Life is too lazy yet a race, I hear every one’s concepts about it. Some call it a quest for purpose; some call it competition and those who have no purpose call it mere breathing, hence it all makes it versatile. For some the best life is the one which is executed everywhere. I shall wander off to everywhere, until I find you.

I wonder...

2010-07-06T05:27:00.000-07:00

I wonder at times…What if…

If music listened and ears played
If our brains were the problem that mathematics worked out
If trees chopped and we fell
If we were the tear that the scissors had left
If books read themselves, diaries wouldn’t be private
If songs sung themselves, pop-stars wouldn’t be famous
If money spent itself, society wouldn’t argue
And if Death killed himself, we would be immortal.

If we? Are we? Should we be?
If Death killed itself, we would be immortal.
Therefore the answer forever stands as no;
We will not. We are not. We should not.

No one should change for some one else
For it is against our nature.
Just as a bear would never make honey
And the bees would never steal it.

Forever yourself
United in you
We are alone
Yet one whole too…

iGraffito on paper - the boring classes

2010-06-30T02:39:00.000-07:00

This is me :P when I was 15, I know it's bad, (my old version). It says 18 July 2009, but I don't remeber the location.

People bite their nails, some bite the skin around the nails, some of them yawn and some doze off, someone I know write songs and poems, in boring and killing lectures. But We do different. Faizan, my chum, my best friend forever, now in Pak Army lucky him! and unlucky me! Um, Actually I never tried :P So, he and I used to draw things, names and stuff in boring classes. I should tell here, my real name is Sarang Hussain but registered name is Bahadur Hussain.

Following are the things we used to do, in boring lectures.

"Life is unjust"

2010-06-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

“Life is unjust”, “my life sucks badly” and “I’m curse”. That’s what I hear almost everywhere. I want to say that too, but when I think of what I think when I see such words, then I stop myself from saying that, 'cause it sounds hilariously pathetic, very very badly laughable! And maybe that's why I want to stick to this problem until it gets over tho' I'm pretty lazy about constructive things but still I must conquer the negativity; and I’m pretty sure that it is also one of those oft-heard pathetic sounding statement to you – the happy people (I am not comparing). But just imagine a life of a genius – misunderstood, a life full of flairs and hard lucks. And loneliness seems an outdated way of expressing one's boredom to you – the happy people (I am not comparing), ‘tis not, taste it if you ever can.

Today, I literally have zero friends if we count, zero percent sibling support, zero joy, boredom all the time. I never cried like this before. Ugh! I’m pathetic. Must suck! I thank God – Allah for this life and further, I do not have any complaints. I must get myself busy somewhere.

P.S. I am good at insulting! Beware!
And Ah? Fajr prayers call - Azzaan! wow!
I'm too sleepy too write anything positive with this.
P.P.S. I am writing all this with half eyes closed and full brain shut. Ma'azrat!

My Cell Phone’s draft box – The things that I think

2010-06-27T02:41:00.000-07:00

This is what my cell phone draft box has in it. Today, I am removing the-things-that-I-think.

25-June-10 2:59 pm
She is stupid, dumb yet respected
He is misunderstood genius thus dejected

25-June-10 2:07 pm
I love you, and that girl in pink.

23-june-10 9:01 pm
I felt like a girl, not functionally but habitually…

22-June-10 12:13 am
When I read her blog I hear the peaceful serenades
When I read my own diary I hear the electric guitars

21-June-10 11:34 pm
I like to lick the white muse in an Oreo.

21-June-10 5:38 pm
I wish I were a bird, or at least that smoke from the chimney…

21-June-10 5:15 am
I dreamt that I was fighting for wrong and comparably weak side. Morning dream! Sigh. I guess I’m born to be a loser.

20-June-10 4:10 pm
There’s nothing I feel in heart but the ache and beat, every thing is in head, even you my love.

13-June-10 10:55 pm
I look uncomforted, she looks suspicious, we are on date, we talk in whispers, I hold her hand, she smiles and whisper, just a whisper and some whispers. Yes, we are on a roller coaster

11-June-10 12:05 am
Bad day… good day!
Thou – a curse – I wish not thy sun to rise
And tonight when thou goest in sleep
I shall burn thee on a pyre
I do not adore the eclipse
I do not wish the toil
Bad day… good day!
I hope thou dost not rise again

10-June-10 11:48 pm
I just wanted to get hit by a bus, but I was unlucky enough to make it to home.

07-June-10 8:39 pm
Moon is pale, what’s its ail?
Why is it sad? What is the tale?
Had its lover drowned? ‘cause he could not sail?
Or did he do wrong and sent to jail?

07-June-10 10:02 am
In the days of dark knights
Why did you not come?
Why did you not save me?
Even when they…
Sliced me into two…

05-June-10 1:02 am
I caressed its wings; it frowned and bit me on my finger.

05-June-10 1:00 am
Doomsday: - As the examiner stepped towards me, I gripped the arms of my chair fiercely and mumbled all the mystical prayer I knew, and then I faced the music.

05-June-10 12:47 am
She… in the black and she in the white are both sisters, but that boy in the red and the other in yellow are not brothers…

05-June-10 12:46 am
I stood in the rain, soaked from head to toe, and then I thought in dismay, I should open the umbrella.

05-June-10 12:44 am
I thought I am mad for her but not made for her…

05-June-10 12:41 am
When I gained consciousness, the witch was still chanting the incantation.

03-June-10 05:01 pm
Three awesome things in a row
Way to go way to go
That rhymes a bit, no?

02-June-10 1:59 am
7 Impossible things: (pathetically secret draft)

01-June-10 02:21 pm
Every shoulder’s vanishing and I’m crying on walls. Sigh.

31-May-10 5:25 pm
I wrote what they taught
But never came in handy…
Sigh!
I should have learned it by heart,
Now it’s not like eating candy…

31-May-10 5:11 pm
(Wrote ‘poison’ in design)

30-May-10 12:57 pm
Rais Bano’s book in the market.
New Day – poetry book.

29-May-10 2:06 pm
(Wrote a long ode to Emily Dickinson, which I’ll share sometime)

28-May-10 08:08 am
I am expecting thee O little bird – thou my lucky charm
Thou hast not come –
My eyes hath wilted
Why hast thee not come?
Thou – O bird…

25-May-10 11:25 pm
I had no flair to wait,
Until I met you…
And left me
Boundaries of pain
Stars unseen –
Flowers unsmell’d
I had no talent to dwell
Until I met you…

25-May-10 6:12 pm
I love my life for it made me meet you: Trying to be happy,
I hate my life for it made me meet you: Wake up and smell the coffee

24-May-10 11:52 pm
Alone – Lonely – loner
In the togetherness of thee
In the mystique of inspirations
Images are mystical – but ability is ailed
O writer’s block! Shoo! Go away!

24-May-10 10:38 pm
All but death – can be adjusted (Emily Dickinson)

23-May-10 11:43 pm
Haikus
Harsh loneliness
A cruel mask of despair
Let me put it off
* * *
I see no change
And I have grown up
Why don’t they?

18-May-10 7:57 pm
I don’t make poetry; it makes me – my immortality.

14-May-10 7:09 pm
Ancestry dot com (some website I saw on Geo TV but never opened)

08-May-10 4:54 pm
I love thee, thou lovest me
I turn in thee, thou in me…

That feeling...!

2010-06-26T04:47:00.000-07:00

Ever had the mini heart attack on realizing that you’ve lost something? And ever felt the perfect comfort on realizing that you are fully prepared for the upcoming circumstances?
Ever felt the satisfaction when you know you’ll do great in exam because you’ve prepared every thing about it? Ever thought how a bird feels when it escapes from the cage and fly in the skies after a very long time and then join the flocks? Ever felt the automatic smile-feeling when your mother smiles at you for something stupid you’ve done?

I feel the strangest feeling today; I want to jump with joy and dance and want to play my favorite songs the loudest. Yes! The after-final-exams-feeling, I hope that’s not farfetched but the feeling that was felt by people of my country when the beloved country came into being! The freedom! The list I made about a week ago before exams – the things-I’ll-do-after-exams list, I see it, it’s on yellow paper with the green ink and I’m going to do all the “fungenda” now. Drawing my favorite cartoons, decorating my sister’s room, read all the magazines that I saved for after-exam time, the summer movies, the sleep competition with my pals, the hang outs with chums, and Disney! I feel every good feeling. The feeling I felt when N.A. called me the regular contributor of their page. That feeling! I can tell now, how Saad Javed feels on seeing the wild geese flying with the moon on their wings and when he sees the kites dancing on the end of the strings and when he sees the curtains swaying in S shape, and shiny vegetables. I know how I feel on seeing a green ringed-parakeet frowning at every one but we still caress it and try to comfort it, the little cat you luckily and suddenly find in fog, a teenager girl dancing in the rain, and the stars shaping her name and the feeling when little kid try to talk with his not-so-perfect-but-wicked-cute voice, the silent day in neighborhood, soothing sound of trickling water, the summer’s cool night, the feet perfectly fitted in cool dirt, the sleep under the open and starry sky.

I feel everything! I feel like that white smoke flying away from the chimney celebrating its freedom. The feeling I feel when I read Emily Dickinson’s poems, I feel so cold that no fire can harm me. It’s my independence day, today was my last paper, and I did awesome! And come to mummy :P THE SUMMER VACATIONS!!!!

There's a possibility!

2010-06-19T08:30:00.000-07:00

There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
It’s a blossom in a tree. It’s karma deciding my destiny
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
I have never loved thee! Jumping in the sea! Blood spilling out of me
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
It’s my country! But I lost the key! To the door of my immortality
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
Gleams with refreshing glee! Trying to be free! I you and she
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
Careful eternity! Unspeakable infinity! Driving me crazy!
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
It could be thee could have been me but we never knew that she
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
Ailing my ability! Why can’t you see? But you look happy…
There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility! There’s a possibility!
About every story! I have to agree! ‘Cause There’s a possibility!

Exams, tension, preparations and aftermaths

2010-06-19T04:41:00.000-07:00

Sigh. Major sigh rather! I don't want to sound like a pathetic emo boy AKA long-haired-loser from now on ‘cause now I have learnt that I should always look at the bright side of every happening. Recently, I did the majorest (superlative of major) blunder by forgetting my roll number card at home on the very first paper! (I didn’t know my roll no. It was very long, more like some phone number) and the first word that came out of my mouth when I checked my bag and every pocket was something that rhymes with “Luck” and the other was that rhymes with “Land lord”, “gain-ford” or “main-chord” Okay! You get the point! Right? So I puked during the exam  What?? I do it in nervousness, I can’t help! But good thing, I ran towards the bathroom without even asking otherwise, it would have been havoc… And the next paper was also bad one it was computer and it looked like an object code (Computer language in binary numbers) to me, it went horrible again! Instead of grumbling stuff like, why me? and I’m a curse etc I looked at the bright side, which was “I didn’t puke that day! Ahaa!” :D (My baba is very proud of me :P) No really I cannot recall even one day when things went my way, the day I can call perfectly awesome day, (Except for the Economics paper it rocked!) Okay so, my first paper went like this,

It was a fine sunny morning, butterflies were flying in my tummy and my exam was 2 hours away. I was excited and tensed at the same time. So, I read the horoscopes to distract myself, I swear Gemini said ”What a brilliant day you are going to have, success is yours today and money will come worries will go blah blah" my smile broadened and wrinkles lessened. I departed late for the college, 'cause I wanted to look at all the formulas again. I had been preparing for that paper since like forever ‘cause mathematics is my nightmare and digits and formulas can scare me to death, therefore, I had to do the best. And I don't know how but I forgot my roll no. card in the final math exam. I reached at college finally, excited! And then I checked my bag and all the pockets but my roll no. card was no where to be seen! OH MY GOD! (Censored curses and abusive language!!!) They didn't allow me to sit for one hour until my baba came along with the card! I was very nervous. I puked during the exam (in the bathroom) my hands were shivering on paper, my handwriting was being gay. And if I wanted to press 3 on calculator, I pressed 6 every time them backspaced then pressed 3! I forgot the simplest formulas i.e Harmonic mean and Correlation & Regression and I couldn't believe it! And it was 3 AC-ed small room, smaller than my bed room (no hall :-O) and I'm phobic to cold (You must have read my poem Winter phobia :P). I somehow managed to ask in a shivering voice if they could switch off the cold sprayers! More like death sprayers to me! But others opposed. I was HELPLESS, FRIENDLESS loser, I felt pathetic! And it was 10th of this month. I never pray to God in exams! Because I think it'd be gaudy and mean to only pray in exams like when I need Him (the most). This time I did! But what I got was this baddest (worst) day of my life. I cried my eyes out after exam in my locked room to the point I thought I was about to burst and wished to God to make me die, I wanted to hit by a bus. I never want to die actually but I just muttered that I don’t know why Time to write another painful, nihilistic, emo and gloomy poem, I did and ruined it. And then the day passed - consumed by twilight-consumed by night-consumed by dawn like every another day. And I witnessed the new sun that smiled at me and sprinkled the hot and loving beams upon me, I hoped for better.

I have now stopped saying the phrases like prayers needed, wish me luck and stuff. And I’m not going to read horoscope again in my whole life and I shall never let my kids and wife to read them.

My 5 papers are done and 3 are left! (Five cats rescued and three to go :P)

Very gloomy story, right? What if it was a mere one leaf from the diary! The Book of Vincent :P Scary na?

Some people have started calling me “Chalta phirta bad-luck” and “trouble” etc. But no heed no encouragement for them!

But I now don’t look at the dark side, Instead of the dark I look for the light, Instead of cry I look for laughter, Instead of solitude, I look for friends, Instead of death, I look at life.
I have learnt that,

Blunders just happen
Faith should not be shaken
Never feel broken
Enough is taken
If the wrong road is taken
Don’t lose the token
‘Cause the road not taken
Think, was godforsaken

Miley Cyrus in her movie Hannah Montana said, “Life is a climb, but the view is great.” Whoever wrote this I shall love her/him forever (ahm ahm) If she is a girl or woman then I’ll love her more, romantically as well as aaiwain (Don’t judge!).

And “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus. That’s my song from now on, the anthem of encouragement and consolation you can say! (And I shall love Miley Cyrus for this song forever)

Lyrics:
I can almost see it.
That dream I'm dreaming, but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach it
Every step I'm takin'
Every move I make
Feels lost with no direction,
My faith is shakin'
But I gotta keep tryin'
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down, but
No I'm not breaking
I may not know it, but
These are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most
I've just gotta keep goin', and
I gotta be strong
Just keep pushing on, but

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

Keep on movin'
Keep climbin'
Keep faith baby
It's all about, it's all about
The climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, woah

P.S I posted the same story as a comment on some related post I saw somewhere last night just to share the experience!

My three score and ten (Scathingly)

2010-06-17T05:31:00.000-07:00

(Of boredom and gloom)

Horizon is about to swallow the sun. It is spilling the beautiful orange shades upon the clouds alongside the sun. And moon with its glow – is to take control in the sky and the falling water is shimmering and reflecting the pale and full moon and the flashing stars on the pearly shawl of the earth. This day has faded and night has grown after twilight like every day. And with this night - this feeling is growing inside me, it happens often, maybe depression. It is slowly starting to bite, a kind of restlessness, I don’t know what? Some flashbacks, some voices, are haunting my mind, wait a minute! What are those eyes doing here? I know them, those eyes full of love, even bluer than the skies above of one fine evening. Looking at me at dagger point, what eyes? pointed like sword in a seductive way. But I thought no more is that those eyes’ gaze was seductive for me. Things – apparently, have changed! I thought I’d moved on, but it seems that I was and still not completely over, still stuck somewhere in her memories, I have got to take control of my life. Where are my giggles? The glimpses of my hurting past are still within my every vision.

So I sliced myself into two, to escape from all the painful frigid gloom, and gave a piece to this cruel and ruthful moments and other to my happiness - ‘so called’ and imaginary. I have never been happy with life and if I have been, it was for sometime. They say rise and fall is the part of life but I say if the fall is often and more than the rise then it becomes a crutchy life, a life in fog and in uncertainty all the time. You often happen to think you are alone even amid the bustles. If you make blunders you care less about them because nobody taught you how to care, nobody cared about you before. The bright side takes a lot of happiness but the happiness looks a mere grain of sand when compared to the ample deserted beach of the gloomy side. I never wanted to die and still I don’t want to but I am not keen of living either. Life is not ample but the events are. I just want to feel the real love by them, the real happiness, the real sun’s happy beams and I want to live in the real smiles, in the real beauties of life and nature and with the feeling of there-is-no-burden and I’m-free-from-cares. So, I shall apply law of equi-marginal utility but it has drawbacks like every hope I have ever hoped. Utility cannot be measured but life can be. Similarly, nature – my love cannot be measured but my life can be.

I just want to say, life is not enough, so gain most using least. Life is once and very beautiful, live every part of it, the gloom the light. Every style of it, the poor, the rich. Every taste of it, the conservative, the moderate. You have no time; just complete all your answers before the examiner comes and asks to return the answer sheet. As Emily Dickinson would put in:
I had no time to hate-
Because
The grave would hinder me-
And life was not so ample
So I could finish - enmity-

Nor had I time to love –
But since
Some industry must be –
The little Toil of love –
I thought
Be large enough for me-

Doors – locked

2010-06-17T05:28:00.000-07:00

I walked wounded on ways all the night
I must have seen someone in pain
You possessed my soul in magical mirror
I went in jungle to find my dark heart
I must have lost this darkness in night
While you hide your love in open doors
I bolt it silently to spread the partial gloom
I must have known that it was a foggy noon
I must have spent it – as last – with my spouse
But I happen to reside behind the locked doors

~ B.H

Moon is pale

2010-06-07T11:19:00.000-07:00

It was like 2 weeks ago, when I saw that moon was full and pale... I wrote rhymes on yellow note paper (yellow sticky note papers/reminders) ofcourse about the moon. I usually write on yellow sticky note paper, I call it my second love/spouse. First is fog, right! There is something poetic in it... Although, The rhymes I write on yellow notepaper are comparably rougher and simpler than those I write on white papers or on computer. But I like these rough and simple rhymes more.. Here is what I wrote in pale moonlit night.

Moon is pale, what's its ail?

Why is it sad? What is the tale?

Has its lover drowned?

beacause he could not sail

Or did he do wrong?

And sent to jail?

P.s prayers needed, for I am taking exams and I'm like trampled by the pile of expectations of parents and friends .

Robbie Williams - Feel

2010-06-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

Ha! I heard this song on radio a while ago, and I totally fell in love with this song!

It is truely beautiful!

When creativity flows…

2010-06-03T11:06:00.000-07:00

Once, a blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign saying: ‘I am blind, please help.’ There were only a few coins in the hat.
A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.
Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were. The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, “Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?”
The man said, “I wrote what you wrote but in a different way.”
What he had written was “Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it.”
Do you think the first sign and the second sign were saying the same thing?
Of course both signs told people the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people they were so lucky that they were not blind. Should I be surprised that the second sign was more effective?

What mad person...?

2010-05-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

How is it living a life when everything you see is actually not what you see... when moon is just a yellow apple - sun is but a burning disco ball - life is but a sleep and forgetting - if those twinkling eyes of your beloved are mere a pair of marbles - if you could make roads in lakes and lakes in roads - if you could shatter the moon and divide the pieces among the needy - if you could make a witch out of a tree and if you can fly without the wings on magic carpets if you could make a parrot sing heavenly songs and if you could scare the scarecrow and make it run away from the fields! If you could amuse a goat and if you could make it laugh...
But still they ask...Why do I scribble about the enigma of fog, about the frown of rose ringed-parakeet.. about crimson pain... What mad person...?

I should never think...

2010-05-30T13:12:00.000-07:00

Never think by Robbert Pattinson

It can be very peaceful sometimes even amid bustles of life, 'tis what music is for... To take one away from one's cares afar...

Fog - an enigma

2010-05-30T09:27:00.000-07:00

Fog… maybe is good and there is a possibility that it’s evil.
It can hide a poor soul; yet can trap one in snare.
My love for fog is as certain as death. And I am as faithful as one’s shadow to it.
But does it love me the way I do? If I plunge myself into it, will it swallow me
Will it hide me from the immortal solitude? Fog uncertain like life or certain like death. Fog... I have always loved it…
Like a blind man trust his inner eyes. Yes, I can afford playing with my life.
I shall wander in fog… and search for soul…

Haiku'd Birthday

2010-05-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

I had the best/cheapest birthday ever yesterday, and my day was constantly interrupted by my siblings' and a friend's creativity. And then my haiku challenge was accepted by my bro, cousin sis, dad and by a friend and they did not disappoint me. The response was so good, So, I decided to post all haiku here. Haha Billz rocked the challenge and then waris bagged 2nd position Aimz 3rd and Dad 4th! :D

So another year falls
Of my traveller-like life with
Some deeds undone

***pardon me, If I've breached 5-7-5 uncool syllable rule***

My bro Bilawal's:

Aren’t you so fancy
To think of this little game?
Here, I’ll humor you

In vain I create
Something great so I can win
I’m competitive

Birthday cheers to you
This is your gift by the way
So enjoy it now

I could get mushy
Really, what would be the point?
You know how I feel

I’d write like you
But sigh it is my vacation
So my brain’s shut off

Instead I’ll just write
Bro, you always rock my world
Now repeat after me

Waris':

I’ll try to be cool
with a fun birthday greeting
that rhymes a bit too!

Aimz's:

Another year young
Loved by family and friends
Happy Birthday bro

Dad's:

A Birthday Haiku
That is a dumb idea
I shall not do it

I dislike haiku
I wish you wouldn’t want it
Still, Happy Birthday

My dad's haiku was really fun, We were litterally rolling on floor laughing out loud, These deeds of love mean a lot to me :D How can I ever thank/repay you guys for making this day so special for me! specially my dad, I Love my dad more than any thing!! *heart*

And since it was my birthday... So I penned a quick written kind of poem last night as well...

Year Fall- Saal Gira

Thus another year of my traveller-like life falls down,

With some deeds undone, few words unsaid,

Wafted away with whispering winds and dried leaves

Took away my living togetherness and dying lonliness

Every moment passing - my journey towards a house

A house that is mere a pile of clay - my grave - my home

Like others around this year knew no loyalty -

For It also left- with some stars unseen, some tears unshed...

Dreamland

2010-05-21T06:46:00.000-07:00

Published in Us, The News International
21st May 2010
By Bahadur Hussain

Beams from beacon fall onto the meadows,
Colouring the paintings, tracing the shadows-

And the flickering flames of the tapering candles
With the storming wind, the lightning thunder;

A scarecrow runs in swaying golden fields
While raindrops perch on the glossy leaves

Parrots of the world sing heavenly songs
As the angels strum the magical guitars

And staring of suns and biting of apples
Some sparrows laughing in the maples

And calling of summit through the beacon
So I lead the flocks towards the heaven

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=564&magId=9

Sometimes...

2010-05-20T11:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel the fog around me is getting thicker, and the visions are becoming a little more unclear. And sometimes I think my words don't make sense - of course words in randomization are not much worth praising, but they have an advantage too - that is, they don't unveil/reveal much of your thoughts - specially when you are writing diary or a very personal page.

The scary feeling often hovers around and why? Maybe responsibilities? Well, in my case I'd say, no! I'm just 18 and I think I am still free - like a bird that is about to be caged. And what I like about fog is similar to me - fog is free as Carl Sandburg puts in,

Fog comes
On little cat feet.

It sits looking
Over harbour and city
on silent haunches
And then moves on...

Pardon me, If I've written this a little wrong. But the point is that fog cannot be shackled - as its physique is mere a tuft of smoke. And foggy images are like mystery to me - that gives me a feeling of curiosity, It fascinates me through its beguiling look that there is something hidden which is yet to be discovered.

So, the scary feeling is because of three scores and ten. One score makes 20. So, three scores and plus 10, total 70. According to The Bible, man is given 70 years (average) on earth. And I know, even a kid knows that death falls in our equation perfectly. So it leaves me nothing for leisure. It makes my journey full of labour. Death will come one day, and I'll give my labours and leisures for His civility.

And then moods stick their tongue malevolently to us often. Sometimes they take me in the deeps of philosophical thoughts and sometimes they take me in the parks - where youth play football with their destinies. Sometimes, I think, what if all the world starts thinking and give away all the leisures and luxuries. They won't argue or the great era of argue-ism would take birth. Firstly, the world will go on as it is supposed to. Secondly, all the five fingers are not equal. So, there can be some people who think. And it is necessary for this world to run that it should have all kinds of pieces - humans - rebels, obedients, criminals, disables and able ones.

Loner-ism is an other thing which relates to me very much. If I was not a loner I would not have been writing this. And there is a stage in life when you think that everything is over and that's when it all starts. And there is a quotation regarding poetry that says, when an image comes to you and you fail to find a word for it in all the dictionaries, then you become a poet. Well, personally, I don't get it... Normally, it happens with someone when one is having writer's block. How come a person becomes a poet when he can't even find a word for what he thinks. Maybe, by poet they meant 'philosopher' or someone who thinks (like they say) 'out of the world', maybe they meant a mad person as a poet. Well, I'll find out about it if I find a person worth asking in my life somewhere.

There has always been a question hovering in my mind that is 'What was God's duty/leisure/work/purpose before the creation of this universe?' Someone told me that like gold needs human to value it. God needs creatures to value/worship Him. But the answer did not touch me.

I will ask... If I find a person worth asking...

My Glimmering Beloved

2010-05-13T23:21:00.000-07:00

For a person that is blind - not by sight but by heart - She sees but ignores - the love that is being showered on her by friends and family - she calls herself an isolated, loner and dejected soul. She is fascinating - everything in her - her habits, face and her words attract me. This poem (ode) - I wrote, was mere a gift for her. If one reads between the lines, one can tell that how pure her soul is.

Let the orange of love spill
And let it sprinkle the magic
Let the dusk die and dawn begin
And water the ecstasy living within
Now shall I call you the pile of beauty?
And a crimson feeling of life?
Shall I take your hand in mine?
And shower you with ample love?
Oh, what shall I call your smile?
A dewdrop on lily?
Or the aroma of rain and soil?
A shooting star?
Or a red young rose?
Oh how stunningly mesmerising
It looks on you.
As my heart flies on its wings-
pouring the fairy dust behind-
To the seventh cloud....
But I shall come one day
To pluck you away-
From this nescient world
O my glimmering beloved!
(Bahadur Hussain)

Meaningless Words

2010-05-06T13:44:00.000-07:00

Bahadur Hussain

Words -my poetic woes
Zilch and nihilistic
I --- alone in such infinite world -- of words-
And books --- my mystique-
Beautifully written with blood,
Meek and mild,
Envied by materialization of dreams.
Words --- sail in ocean --- hail from heaven
Words --- night is dread --- stars are red--
Words --- no more clichés, no more antique-
In randomization.
Words --- come to me --- with sticking tongue
Evilly yet lovingly then frighten me.
Words --- needles and threads
Meaningless epics.
Words --- I do have not --- they do
Love --- for me --- for you,
My everything.
To you --- for me --- mere a word.
To her --- my woes are words
To me --- are humans with brains
Words --- fireflies of nights
Shadows of noons --- twinkling of stars
Aches of hearts --- sunsets and cries-
Hellos and goodbyes --- words...

I Had No Time To Hate, Because

2010-05-04T11:52:00.000-07:00

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.

Nor had I time to love, but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
(Emily Dickinson)

Sonnet 01

2010-05-02T06:43:00.000-07:00

Bahadur Hussain
Us, The News International

Fragrance of blossoms flies in the air,
A lewd scent, enfolds the deep desire,
And forces me to inhale in despair.
My nose in pain from its alluring pyre
An addicting chemical, the content,
With each whiff brings death close,
A poison! Not doubtfully devil sent,
The portal to hell made in but one dose.
I realize how evil its purpose is,
And beg my soul for release of the smell.
But death slowly comes, and with a quick kiss,
Freezes the corpse in its enchanted spell.
I lay on the ground, dead carcass and bare,
Knowing I paid the price, the toll, the fare.

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=515&magId=9

Unopened letters sent home: 1986 - 2061

2010-04-23T04:08:00.000-07:00

By Asmara Malik
Published in Us, The News International

Monday, September 25

I'm not sure about you in this din

of galaxies crashing about our feet.
In your uneasy sleep you speak of a strange Sarhad
where empty skyscrapers smoulder beneath baleful suns.
So compelled, I walk the silent streets of Islamabad, until dawn
until it is too late to return home, amidst other transient ghosts
who do not speak my tongue. We walk…

Tuesday, September 26

He cannot sleep.

An overhead speaker announces, "The bus will be late, we apologise for the inconvenience, thank you for choosing to travel…." The rest of it becomes a blue Doppler-fade-away as he walks back to the parking lot. It's 3 a.m. He will not find a cab. He will not be going home. He leaves his bags on the steps of the bus terminal. In the time, it took for him to un-strap the bags he was carrying and the moment they hit the soft clay-coloured earth, he realised that he was tired of lying to himself.

He was not going home!

The man at the khoka pours his chai into a chipped glass mug, milk blooming downwards and outwards within amber gloom. The man at the khoka calls him saheb. He leaves him his last 20 rupees.

Wednesday, September 27

2:56 a.m. He dreamt of his mother again after a long, long time. She stood at the window of his old house in Quetta and pointed at the sky. One by one, from the north to the south, every star in the sky fell, until the hemispheres were starless.

He woke up, but I don't think he did. I don't think he's ever really awake. The lakes in Quetta do not have names; they have myths. The mountains have names because there are many, many mountains. They let him sleep in the garden of their small house that night, the woman and her daughter.

Some time in the night, he dreamed of billowing red cloaks upon the sands of Thar and women singing, perched on the crumbling walls of some abandoned fort in Rajasthan. They give him roti in the morning. The daughter gives him her chappal. She calls him bhai and asks him to bless her. He thanks her and tells her she needs no blessings.

Thursday, September 28

There is no solace in Sindh. Un-dead bones of priests and poets cry out from beneath the ochre earth of Chaukundi. He leaves knowing that the dead sleep uneasily. The company of their ancestors does not make eternity any easier to bear in this necropolis. On Makli Hill in Thatta, he turns his face to the wind and smells spring. The sea is a dying siren; its voice holds no allure. The midnight moon only exposes its putrid façade even more. The cry of the dolphin is a death-rattle and he will not hear the deep sorrow of its loss any more. He lies down beside the river, this dream-snake coursing through our land like sinuous silk. The gentle cadence of its whispering tides tells him to rest. But then he remembers Harrapa and he knows the river is a liar. It may not be as temperamental as the Tigris but neither is it as faithful as the Nile. Sindhu, the river-- one you call, the Indus. He is tired. He longs for sleep with no dreams. The river weeps. Blind dolphins cannot console it. In the village, a woman's screams rend the night. Her husband has returned from the war in Kargil. They leave the bodies at the doors of their homes in the dead of the night. Her husband will be buried at dawn and this land is not kind to widows. The voice of the Punjab is a distant, slatternly song. He will let his feet sink in her muddy bosom, a queen-whore embracing her every conqueror and poisoning them in their sleep.

Equinox - Midnight, Friday, September 29 and Saturday, September 30

…barefoot upon

asphalt avenues, beneath the midnight moon;
awaiting the next Great Road to be laid
along the dusty cattle-tracks of Punjab. Behold! Our…

Sunday, September 31

He jolts awake. The bus takes another cataclysmic lurch and hurtles to a halt outside a raucous bus depot on the outskirts of Lahore. A man, his face all leery smiles, asks him where he would care to spend the night. A little girl, her left hand cup-shaped and pleading, is singing in a voice both piping and weeping. 'Bahaar', she sings, 'bahaar ai.' He watches maggots swarm across the scabrous stump of her right arm. In the phone booth next to his, a woman is saying "… and I said something that sounded ridiculously like love and oh God, I was so afraid of her laughing in my face." He calls his sister and cannot say anything when she says "Hello?" She says, "Bhai..?" and he hangs up. Heera Mandi sprawls languidly beneath his window. He watches a painted woman give roti to a man with matted hair and wild eyes. A walrus-man with lassi clinging to his moustache pulls her away. The wild-eyed man watches and does nothing. A door bangs shut. He falls on his knees by the fetid gutters; weeps. A muezzin calls the faithful to sunrise prayers.

Monday, September 32

I'm not sure about you in this din

of galaxies crashing about our feet.
In your uneasy sleep you speak
of a Sarhad where empty skyscrapers smoulder
beneath a baleful sun. So compelled, I walk
the silent streets of Islamabad, until dawn,
until it is too late to return home,
amidst other transient ghosts
who do not speak my tongue. We walk barefoot
upon asphalt avenues, beneath the midnight moon;
awaiting the next Great Road to be laid
along the dusty cattle-tracks of Punjab.
Behold! Our shadows are caught, stretched
between forgotten lakes in Balochistan;
splintered to unfathomed shapes
by the exploding wings of migratory birds in Sindh.
Strangers – strangers passing through each dawn of these lands.

– Inspired by Neil Gaiman's short story, 'Letters found in a Shoebox...' from his

collection entitled, "Fragile Things".

Original rainbow

2010-04-22T22:27:00.000-07:00

By B.H.

Me Rainbow
Prefers to be an original
Instead of trying to be like others
If I'm like others
That's only by coincidence
For I take joy in being original
For a lot of the ways of today
Doesn't suit me
I prefer long sleeved shirts
Even in summer,
And my traditional suits
I like regular drinking glasses
But I like drinking out of jars even better
My idea of a good time
Does not involve smoking
Or getting high
I enjoy the company of people's canines
But I prefer my pet felines
I like a good magazine article or a book
But knowing the God's Book takes a higher priority to me
Though I admit I am not as good about reading
As I need be
I, in the summer
Came to enjoy healthy eating
Over the not-so-healthy eating
But a recent sickness got me
Falling off the bandwagon
The youth at heart
I Enjoy cartoons
And Naruto
As much as little kids do
I drink so rare
I prefer sweet tea
And juice
And water
Over soda
And simple is my choice
When at local restaurants
I'm not much a TV person
I tend to only watch one hour a week
If even that
Not counting sometimes watching sports
I don't do movies
Not for some time
Unless I watch with others.
But I do love myself for my video games
And my Prince of Persia and his sword
And Sands of time, The forgotten sands.

The death of my poem

2010-04-16T01:29:00.000-07:00

By Bahadur Hussain

Published in Us, The News International

Pages are burnt - pens are broken

Passions are ailing - hearts are crying

Instead of myself I wonder

Why the roses are dying?

http://thenews.com.pk/newsmag/mag/detail_article.asp?id=481&magId=9

The Time Traveler's Wife (Review)

2010-04-14T04:42:00.000-07:00

Reviewed by
Bahadur Hussain

You must have read about time machine in science fictions, right? Audrey Niffenegger’s book The Time Traveler’s Wife has a touch of it, It’s not actually about time machine rather it’s about time travelling.

This book by Audrey Niffenegger may have a little touch of science of space-time continuum in it. But the story is not science fiction rather it is a remarkable heart-melting love story of a time traveler and his true love who must have to live with the curse as a cliché.

A boy named Henry DeTamble who is fourteen, meets his love Clare when he is 36 but Clare is only 6 years old at that time but in reality Henry is only 8 years older than Clare. Yes! The man is time traveler; because of some genetic mutation, he travels through the time, although he cannot control it. He disappears reluctantly from the view and reappears in another time and another place, leaving behind all his clothes.

The heart-felt romantic story follows the straight chronology of Clare’s life. Claire has been in love with Henry for all her life since she was six. Henry travels back from the age 36 in the meadow behind Claire’s house when Claire is only 6, and Henry meets Claire and tells her that he is a time traveler. Henry is Claire’s secret love since her childhood. She used to hide clothes for Henry in the meadow since he used to appear without clothes. Henry being a time traveler knew that she was the one for him but he never told her. When she grew up she came to know that Henry would be his lover in future when they’ll finally meet. And time travelling came as an advantage too, Henry’s mother died in a car accident and Henry often used to travel back in time to see his mother though he couldn’t change what was done so he used to watch her from a distance. Claire and Henry after marriage, have only one baby daughter named Alba. This sweet, smart and beautiful little girl also happens to be a time traveler. The saddest part of the book is Henry’s death because of a gunshot, when Alba is only 5.

This book is really good for those who want to end up in tears in their eyes. To me, it’s a perfect romantic story of a strange guy. This book talks about Henry and Claire’s problems and fights regarding Henry’s unwished disappearance and unscheduled arrival. Sometimes this book will make you laugh in joy and sometimes it will leave you in tears if you feel the immenseness of their pain and it will give you those fuzzy feelings of suspense too.

Their deep ancient kind of love is the pick of the story as Henry sums up his love to Claire after many years of their marriage, ”Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust”. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you!”…I’m sure this book will be a treat for you in this summer’s hot afternoons of loneliness and quietness.

Broken Notes

2010-04-09T08:07:00.000-07:00

Bahadur Hussain
(ambitious amateur)

Today, the sun is happily shining for it has no worries. And it maybe a cliche to every one. But, today these happy beams of the sun are burning the edges of my soul and cutting the wings of my heart. As I feel caged in my freedom. And the agonizing feeling of being an ambitious amateur is even more painful. It’s a kind of state where hot beams of happy day touches you frigidly. Where the voices of beloveds quietly surround your broken existence. Pieces of your shattered hope shatter more. And where the peaceful serenades of love and affection sound bitter and sad. And the dirt of land and the smoke of vehicles of a brightened day seem autumn mist and fog of a dark night. Where hustle bustles spread all over as the sounds of mourning of funerals. If someone walks on green grass, it turns into brown dried leaves of autumn, where one can not imagine things like blessing, luck but only curse…My pen traces out these ailing words today, the words of my dreadful soul. And for a moment with little spans utter silence triumphs all over the place when the foggy visions trickle as twinkling tears on this fluffy carpet of my room. As I feel abased, dejected and of no use…!

Mood Swings

2010-04-06T10:52:00.000-07:00

Boredom Thoughts

I don’t understand my mood. It swings in an instant like a flicker flicks. Bad, good, heartbroken, lonely, happy and all other moods of the world and sometimes all at the same time. Split personality is an other thing, my personality is split but not into two, into many! I know weird, yeah! Okay now I’m over with that violent rock music, It bores me now. Funny story lies here too, I loved the band My Chemical Romance for a week more than any thing and then I hated it more than any thing then last week I started loving it again now today it bores me! I think I’ll prefer Evanescence now. It happens more often in vacations, when I have nothing special to do! Weird ideas haunt my mind. So I, the friendless loser wrestle with my brain to find some ideas of passing time. And we (My brain and I) end up in doing some creative stuff like sketching, cooking, writing, poems, lyrics, listening to music, sometimes I feel like making music, then I strum guitar of the song “drowning lessons” lalala! Strange! I define myself with this word!
Let me tell you about my today’s mood, it’s heartbroken, lonely, curious and exited at the same time! Funny! No? Actually, I can explain this mood like heartbroken is because I think I need my own car, lonely because my parents are out of station. Curious because of my result of my mid-term exams what they call them send-ups and finally I’m exited because I think I did a great job in exams and can’t wait for result. It’d be so cool. After all, It isn’t a bad feeling seeing your name on the top in result announcement sheet on the notice board. Well, if things don’t work out for me, then no problem I think I’m a tough guy and I’ll manage not seeing my on the top, 2nd and 3rd spots aren’t that bad, eh?
*Mood swings* I’m feeling like an ambitious amateur! Why? That is because I under estimate myself quite often, keeping all the dreams in my mind and then seeing my abilities create a kind of fear. A fear of losing, I mean I have one life *philosophy starts* after 15 minutes, *blawblawblawblaw continues* and after 10 minutes, I need a polish, not boot polish! I need to polish my abilities along with my heart and soul with a good polish product, cherry blossom? !@#$%!!!!!!!! *Angry old man*.

Dear Diary

2010-04-06T02:54:00.000-07:00

(Bahadur Hussain)

When days fade, And nights grow
I go in fields to see the scarecrow
While darkness crush through the wind
And fuzzy humid air blows through the mist
Owls fly widening the wings in
The round glowing moon

And swaying dappled long fields
Mysterious howling fog upon
The shimmering of the moon on lake
Submerges the poet inside me
He decays slowly
People…criminal
In the procession of my funeral...

Life (Not mine)

2010-04-05T12:28:00.000-07:00

Our birth is but a sleep and forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life’s star
Hath had elsewhere its setting;
And cometh from afar
Not in entire forgetfulness
And not in utter nakedness
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
(Anonymous)

I Had to Leave...

2010-04-05T10:50:00.000-07:00

My first ever published poem

I still remember this day.
(Published in Us , The News International) 25 Nov 2009

Run away
Fake faces,
Manual wrinkles,
Customary questions-
And praises,
I knew all!
Magical words
Like in magician's show,
He shows how?
Not to let people know,
I knew all!
Colourless loyalty,
Faded emotions,
When heart was dark,
Tongue shimmered,
I knew all!
Sun seemed good-
Even in eclipse,
Was original not,
Animation!
I knew all!
The sparrows of spring-
In iron cages,
After disappointment,
Wish for not!
Hope for not!
I knew all!
Since I saw
The night-bird
In dawn,
I came to know!
I told people,
They didn't believe,
So, I solely had to leave!

A Dream

2010-04-05T10:48:00.000-07:00

(Published in Us Magazine, The News Int.) 02Oct 2009
(Second published poem)

A witch muttering over the cauldron,
Chanting some shivering incantation,
A fear then spread in my veins,
As she sprinkled the glitters upon the cauldron,
I closed my eyes in that moonless night,
Then something rustled in the cauldron,
It had become a glimmering girl,
Who ran and faded through the brightening air,
I ran behind with the storming wind,
I kept on wandering all the night
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone;
and touch her face and take her hands,
And walk through long dappled grass,
And pluck till our dooms shall come,
When all the moons and suns are done!

Archaic Attempts

2010-03-15T05:43:00.000-07:00

>> Dead…
Thou pinched into the core of my heart,
Bereft of life, I am falling apart…
Over the parapets and into the sky-
Flew my agonies very high,
The air around, I inhale-
Ignite my sheets sans thee…
I cry in pain and implore,
Allay my pain! O unfaithful!
I burn in thy untrue deeds…
I yearn to cease the ache of my sheets…
I little care of death after thee…
I was fearful of only losing thee,
Slowly then I close my eyes…
No more me, but my corpse…

>> Winter Phobia
And so my foe, thou hast come
Being so bitter – thou dost weaken my sun
Thy keen winds oft blow to cage me in
Like unseen phantoms as fruit to Adam’s sin…
And shivering cold – for warmth, they hog
As life walks on misty lands, through dense fog,
But for thy golden sunshine I dost pray,
In thy bright suns, I seek Eden…
And I wail to cease thy tooth’s bite-
Wail and hide myself from thy dark suns…
And thy venom oozes, drench my roads,
I see black before my sight and pray to God…
I wait until the end of thee, and when thou go-
Grant me mere few months until another show…
Shakespeare would understand not my phobia,
For he would write it, "As man’s ingratitude"…