Silent Whispers - Revisited

You can not be perfect in every sense of the word, but You could be among such few people who are blessed in many ways. For beauty and brains, for talents and guts, for intelligence and  manners are rarely combined in a person, and if they do, those are specialized people. There were many who were succumbed to the charms of Parveen Shakir, for she was beautiful and daring, for she was all a woman could dream of being, yet there was just one, she was madly in love with and for whom she wrote her fragrant poetry. She left too early, but her fragrance shall always be missed. وہ صورت آشنا میرا  میں اس کے سامنے  چپ رہ کے بھی یوں بات  کرتی ہوں  کہ آنکھوں کا کوئی حرف بدن نہ آشنا  آلودہ پیکر  نہیں ہوتا  ہوا کی لہر پر جب گفتگو ہو  خواہ موسم پر میرا اظہار ہو  یا ٹیلی ویژن پر  وہ مرے لمحہ موجود کا دکھ جان لیتا ہے  مجھے پہچان لیتا ہے  میری ہر بات کا چہرہ نہ دیکھنے پر بھی  وہ صوررت آشنا میرا ...

At times in the arms of a favorite dream we tend to sleep like a baby and don't want to wake up. These are the rare times when sleep becomes ver y dear to an insomniac.

The tangible becomes intangible The visible goes in visible as the fog of your memory slowly, deliberately,intensely Envelopes around me.

When every hour is a rushing hour When every minute demands attention When the body gets ache and When the soul is being neglected In this quickly evaporating time If You find a few moments to spend With Yourself Believe You me You are blessed.

"The way to a man's heart can sometimes take a woman far away from herself my dear." Desert Rose said ominously. "I don't care." I said. "I am ready to go as far as it takes." The forty rules of love Elif Shafak

There are superficial and deep categories. of behaviors, gestures, smiles and words. Superficial was not for me. Deeper asked me to explore. For once I think Superficial is better. You know You run off. As fast as that. For once I feel Deep is risky. It attracts, drag you inside along its depth, and never let you go.

No it wasn't ordinary, having found You and then, having You gone. It was rather, an experience of a lifetime.

It was not merely a travel. It was a transition. At the Barajas Madrid airport, her landing was much more than an entry into Spain. It was her most earnest wish. But many things were unfathomable. Like her irregular breathing, increased pulse and shivering limbs. Anticipation was killing her. The prospect of seeing him once again was too much to bear. While collecting luggage and helping Bibi jaan carrying her own things, she was slightly disoriented. She could not wait any longer to rush out of the exit door, yet a part of her was stopping her from moving forwards. "You are in danger zone," an inner voice warned her. And then she realized how true that was. Yes she was in danger zone. He was too handsome. She realized as his huge frame materialized in front of her. As soon as she was out of the artificially cold atmosphere of the airport building into the open sunshine, two facts hit her hard. The scorching summer heat of Madrid and the handsome Spaniard standi...

When you write and could not finish. When your characters stop speaking to you. When your story comes to a sudden halt. When words are slipping away from your fingers. When keyboard keys are being missed frequently. When you want to express and feel helpless. When you know what is going on and do not accept. No it is not simply a writer's block. It's something else.

Running away seems so much easier. Is it that easy in real sense? I thought I knew the answer. Deep engrossing in routines may make you feel tired to the bone but is there a way to put full-stop to the ongoing thought processing? Changing clouds and atmosphere for a while, meeting beautiful people, hearing lovely talks, indulging in new passions, simply in the process of dragging yourself away. Doesn't help much really. The tug at the heart, at the end of the day, keeps you restless. Running away used to seem so much easier.

Stillness Loneliness Unexplained sadness This first winter night Is so slowly Enveloping me.

Destiny is not without desires. They are hooked together. The desire of sowing a seed and the destiny to see it growing into a tree. The desire of playing with words and the destiny of an emerging best-seller. The desire of meeting a person and the destiny of falling in love with him. Desire is the spark of a flame.  Destiny is being burnt .

A borrowed Poem. Poet unknown. Muhabbat mein kabhi dorahey ka imkan nahi hota Ye hoti hai to hoti hai Nahi hoti to jitna bhi jatan ker lo,nahi hoti Koi acha agar lag jaye to sab khami’yan is ki Achanak khobi’yon ki ourhni mein chup si jati hein Zamana lakh samjhaye, sambhal jao Samat aur basarat ko sujhai kuch nahi deta Samajh ata hai us lamhey Key jab daman mein lakh’on chyed ho ja’ein Kabotar key par’on key sath liptey Sab ayaa’n jab bheyd ho jain Muhabbat mein kabhi dorahey ka imkan nahi hota .. Ye hoti hai to hoti hai Nahi hoti to jitna bhi jatan ker lo,nahi ho ti

I wrote a few words and sent for publication. It was instantaneous. There couldn't have been a better time, with tenderness in your heart, silent lips and wet eyes, the most natural story may come into existence. It did.

And then suddenly you realize The reality was an illusion.

Under the canopy of illuminating chandeliers surrounded by good looking, perfumed people When I had  just a few moments to spend in my company I heard someone playing an old music on the saddening tunes of violin oh in that very special moment I lived my whole life once again.

To write tender words You got to have tenderness inside you.