Silent Whispers - Revisited

Thank You rain for making me smile for making me sad for taking me back into time for bringing back memories

It was a typical karachi evening. Cloudy and windy. As if they would have rain showers any minute, yet there  was no rain. The whole family was gathered in the lawn for an evening tea. Mawra had baked donuts, fried samosas and was serving tea to them. For some unknown reasons, she was smiling and happy today. "Aliza's wedding is scheduled in July" Bibi jaan informed while taking sips from her cup of tea. "That's some good news" , said Amna Suhail smilingly. "When did you find out Bibi jaan? " asked Suhail zafar, picking up one of the freshly baked donuts.  "Zehra called up in morning. They are all coming to karachi on july 4th" replied Bibi jaan "Oh my God, this leaves us with a very short time Bibi jaan, I haven't done any shopping at all." Mawra was worried like any other girl would have been. Aliza was her first cousin, her aunts daughter, residing in Uk, the wedding was scheduled to be celebrated in karach

"oops did I wake you up?" On hearing his husky voice , she had to have a look at her wrist watch , exactly 10 am, meaning 7 am in Madrid. Was he still sleeping? She wondered. But hearing his spanish murmurs, she could figure out he was somnolent. "Mi amor, didn't we say good bye a few hours ago? " For a moment Mawra was stunned, on one hand she was wondering about his unfathomable whispers while at the other his hoarse voice was taking her senses away. She didn't know before, a sleepy manly voice could be magical. "A few hours ago? In fact I am calling you after a few days , I'm sorry to have disturbed your sleep. Ill speak to you laters." she said politely, still feeling guilty of having him wakened up. "Oh , i am sorry , who is this? " he was coming out of his sleepiness after all "Mawra Suhail" "Oh dear, that's You, I thought.... forget it, is everything alright at your end Mawra? you don't u

The large white mechanical umbrellas were gathered to make a canopy over the large  courtyards expanding outside the Prophet's mosque. During sunny mornings and extremely hot afternoons the shades provided by these huge umbrellas were significant, specially for those pilgrims who could not catch their Congregational prayers inside the masjid due to heavy crowd. Under the shade of one such umbrella , he was resting. Though he was still restless, To his right , as he tilted his head high, he could see the huge deep green dome, the symbol he was familiar with since his childhood. It was the symbol of the city of Prophet. It was the symbol of His resting place. It was the symbol of Islam. A passerby went past him asking something in Arabic. He politely excused in English that he doesn't know the language. In a white long Arabic gown, if someone mistook him as an Arab, he wasn't wrong. He looked like one of them, with his tall height, strong built, fair complexion and brown

Raat yun dil mein teri, khoyi hui yaad aayi Jaise viraane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaye Jaise sahraon mein haule se chale baad-ae-naseem Jaise bimaar ko be-wajaah quraar aa jaaye At night my lost memory of you returned and I was like the empty field where springtime, without being noticed, is bringing flowers; I was like the desert over which the breeze moves gently, with great care; I was like the dying patient who, for no reason, smiles.

She was freshly out of shower, clad in a peach bath gown covering  up to her knees, her long wet hair was covering her from her shoulders down to her waist. Clearing the steam of her bathroom's full wall mirror with her fingers, she was drawing irregular images on it and then after a while when the haziness of the mirror evaporated gradually leaving a clear image of herself , she realized she had rarely given herself a diligent look. "what kind of hair do you have Mawra? " just today her university fellow Saba asked her. As at campus she was always head covered , saba hadn't yet had a chance to see her hair. And there in the mirror, watching her long dark straight wet hair, covering her back completely, made her wonder what kind of hair does he like for a woman? She was tall, taller than an average woman around her. she was slim but not lean, her body had curves , many women would desire to have . She was fair, but not too white, and a skin that was blessed

I wish people stop exploiting my humbleness. or for that matter anyone else's politeness. I learnt to say No , sometime ago. Still its hurting to see people taking me for granted.

If I could ask gulzar for one thing, I would have requested him to dedicate this poem to me. Yaad Hai Ik Din? Mere Maze Par Baithe Baithe Cigartte Ki Dibiya Par Tumne Chhote Se Ek Paudhe Ka  Ek Sketch Banaya Tha Aakar Dekho, Us Paudhe Par Phool Aaya Hai یاد ہے اک دن ؟ میری میز پر بیٹھے بیٹھے  سگریٹ کی ڈبیا پر تم نے  چھوٹے سے اک پودے کا  اک سکیچ بنایا تھا  آ کر دیکھو  اس پودے پر پھول آیا ہے  گلزار 

Love is the most ardent the mot vehement the most beautiful agony!

Its  always exciting being with Helen. Tonight she is looking sensational, nothing unusual for her. What a better colour a woman could choose for a night out than what she has chosen already. When did she find out red was my favourite?  She is wearing a crimson red double layered , flaring top with denims, to me it is a perfect outfit for this summer night. And there is nothing about Helen Martinez which is not perfect. She is enthralling, charming, exciting, sensual and sexy. A few women could ever match her charms. Not that she is the most beautiful of all the women I have been with, yet there is this distinct style to her that is unmatchable. Or is it that I am going crazy about her and losing my senses? Well, to this day I have never gone overly drunk. I never exceeds the limits of decency. Probably the way she is looking tonight is making me addicted. Or may be it was the abstinence of her company when I was in Pakistan has taken me back to her with much force. Its

He was sitting infront of Bab-e-Jibril, the door in the vicinity of the great dome of the Holy mosque in Madinah Al Munawarra. It was the third consecutive day, he was in the same state, stumbling and wobbling he would come to the same place each day , standing and watching, people going in and coming out of the mosque. He knew this was the door used by Angel Jibril to bring holy messages from the Almighty, in the form of Quranic verses. Just thinking about the phenomenon and the intensity of the sacredness of this very place would make him tremble, until he could not stabilize his limbs and would fall off to floor. He would sit there for the whole day , unfelt, unseen, undone. He was unable to even join the congregation, being gathered there for five prayers a day. He was unable to enter  the Holy mosque. There was this persistent feeling that would remind him of  his unworthiness,  his sinful life,  his unholy attitude towards the sacredness of this Holy place. As

                                            If You are watching there                                             what I am  seeing here high up in the silent sky this enlightening crescent  know that We, You and I, are in the same state of togetherness.

I am sorry Jinnah, I could not defend your pride, I could not stop them bringing disgrace to your honour, I could not protect your belongings. We did not deserve you Jinnah. We are a pathetic nation. I am losing hope, bit by bit, slowly and gradually.  Amongst a few things that I can not bear is disgrace, and your dsgrace brought tears to me eyes. I am sorry. I shall always be.

It was nearly traumatic. This awaiting. Even though she had the time zone differenc between them in mind, very absurdly she had started waiting for that "oh so important" phone call from the early evening hours. That little ray of hope in the depth of her heart would tell her, she had to wait,he would be calling anytime. It was quite late now, she had a test the next morning and certainly she wasn't studying. The clock struck midnight and then her hopes began to go down. She snuggled into her comforter , turned off her bedside lamp, which was the only source of light for that moment, and plugged onto her earphones to some FM radio channel. Lately she had been hearing much radio, specially the late night shows. some sad ghazals matching her recent mood. And then when she was least expecting, her cell phone started ringing. It was him. "Hey amiga, sorry Im so late. just got back home" "This late" she asked "Its 20 past 8 here but mu

She could not beleive she had actually dialled his cell phone number, for the very first time and that was very unintentional too. But hearing his ever cheerful voice let her beleive it. "hola cómo estás mi amiga querida? " he asked "bueno, gracias senor", Mawra suhail surprised him by replying in Spanish. "wow, wow, so You understand Spanish? , she could hear him smiling. And her reflex was the same. "Just as much as You understand Urdu." after ages she was getting her old sparkling self back. "Does he know magic", she was wondering. His laughter was just as vibrant. "I am glad to hear you senorina but can not speak longer, for I was already rushing towards a meeting when you called up." " Oh I'm sorry for wrong timings", she really felt bad to disturb him. "Not at all mi querida. Can I get back to You when Im home in evening?" "Sure, why not", though in her hearts of heart sh

The Azaan for maghrib prayers echoed through the air. It felt as if it was directly being called from the heavens. People who were already coming towards the masjid, started taking quick short steps. As if that was the most important event of life,this Maghrib prayers, at the Holy mosque of Prophet Muhammad (SAW). For those who were on their pilgrimage to the Holy land, it was, indeed. They had come from far lands, crossing the seas and mountains, travelling with easy means or much diffciulties, coming with love and gratitude, coming with heartcahes and tenderness a heart could never feel otherwise, coming with the ache to meet the beloved, coming with hope to be accepted. And here came the dilemma. Daniel Malik was unsure of his acceptance. He had now taken the turn which would lead him to Babe jibril. The door of Angel Jibril leading to the final resting place of the Prophet. Overlying the entrance to the Prophet's mosque was the large green dome which was the most famou

In the darkness,  glistens radiance. In the memories, reflects endurance. In the silence, whispers innocence.

" Who is Daniel?" They had just come out of their Ecology class and were moving down the stairs towards cafeteria when Sila surprised Mawra by asking this question. "Why would you ask that Sila? ". She didn't have a better response to it. "I will tell you why", holding Mawra's hand she ran down the left over stairs and hurriedly took her to the far corner of the corridor, where it was quieter. To Mawra her best friend Sila seemed starnge at that very moment. "Since you have been acting so starnge for last few days and since today during the whole lecture of Dr. Shahzeb, You wrote just one name repeatedly in your lecture note book and it spelled Daniel." Though there was no accusation is Sila's voice, yet mawra felt extremely embarassed. Can I be this obvious, she thought regretfully. "Whats wrong Mawra, can't you simply share it with me. You have been so distracted and disturbed. Is everything alright? At least

Restlessness prevailing. In her 22nd year of life she had not known this feeling. She used to make fun of her friends who were going through such a phase. A blank stare in class room where she was hearing the lectures without actually listening to any thing. A blank mind when she was opening up books and unable to grab a single meaning. A blank laughter when she was trying to enjoy a joke thrown by one of her friends. Suddenly she was being secluded. suddenly she loved being all by herself. She started avoiding company, she grew quiet. All she was doing was thinking, mostly unintentionally of someone she didn't even know. She was immersed in deep thoughts just to come back to surface to breath in. She grew to be an insomniac, she lost her sleep wake cycle. she lost her apetite, she began losing weight. It was all happening for which she had no controls. Constantly being with someone who was living in a far away land. Who was her dad's cousin, almost twice her age and belog

The forty five minutes drive to home from Barajas airport Madrid could easily take longer than an hour on this bustling , rushing evening which is so usual for spaniards living in Madrid. Hailing a cab to home and am already checking and replying to emails on my tablet. The working hours are almost finished in the town so there is no use going towards office. It was a hectic tour to Pakistan and I was constantly on travel across various cities, but the outcome was successful. Suhail and his family was so hospitable they didn't even let me stay at the hotel. just as Im thinking of Suhail I gave him a call that I have safely landed. This is the difference in East and West. Here in Madrid nobody cares if I am back home. Wasn't Helen supposed to give me a call if she was not supposed to pick me up from airport? Back in Karachi, bibi jan and suhail instructed me that i need to keep in touch with them constantly.They care,at times they care too much. And I don't know why

Where there is You there is no Me from dusk to dawn from hot to rain from dark to bright from moon to sunlight everything is You and as a whirling dervish life encircles You.

So he landed, on a land he never felt related to. And why he was here, he had yet to understnad. Barefoot on this cold marble tiled floor, just as the sun was about to set, his staggering walk was taking longer for him to reach his destination. And where was his destination, he was still not sure. He was like a small kid whose mother went to buy sweets and toys for him and could not return. He wanted someone to hold his hand, to pat his shoulder, to tell him, he can do it. From "Babe Fahad" one of the central entrances to the Prophet's mosque, he had turned right. and now as he was crossing the unending path that could lead him to his desired door, he noticed his limbs were shaking, his hands had tremors,his heart trembling and his senses snoozing. Travelling across each continent of the world, it never occured to him, he will one day be in this city. He never wanted to. But there were some unseen forces which were planning sequences for him. And he knew one of the

My words scare me. At times they scare me too much. They let me flow in their stream and make me oblivion of my ownself.  I dont know if they effect anyone. What I know is, they effect me, like nothing else could.  For I am nothing but words. For I have nothing but words.