Silent Whispers - Revisited

There isn't much today on my mind as I wake up Besides the long list of what to do and what not to do, There is this emptiness prevailing And this emptiness scares me, I can pose to be so strong , yet my fragility is known only to a few.

To be with someone .... matters.  Matters when they bring out the best in You. When you don't have to pose , where you are ,who you are in reality, just like that. Where there are no fears, no hindrance, no feigning, no reservations. There is a  natural flow that leads its own way. That's because you are in the purest and most natural of your forms, it gives you a feeling of lightening, a sense of soothing, a natural contentment, which is other wise impossible in this world of hypocrisy. I don't know if I am making any sense here. But the point is, being with someone matters. 

You may run away from your own reflection But its your shadow that won't let you go

A moment out of a very busy schedule a glimpse of once so familiar face an echo of the most acquainted words a sigh of relief

And when a new soul is being sent to this earth, it brings hope of light. You are one such hope for me, my little angel.

“ His eyes are so intense I want to look away . . . or never look away, I can’t decide .”  ―  Kasie West ,  The Distance Between Us

In the chapter of your life, Some names are written with permanent ink.

Hiding can be soothing .

At times you meet up someone get to know them more than you should know only to find out later they are copy rights protected!

This song got on my nerves for some days. This is an attempt to translate the feelings in a different language. Return back ................ You ask me  to return back your letters lovely evenings fragrance, memories you ask me to return back Some dry petals in my books and a lovely face in my dreams a few gifts and a few pictures Thats all I have as the companions of my lonely moments all these memories you ask me to return back happy and sad times All promises, all seasons tears that we shed together  glitters of the times spent together That is all I have as the companion of  my lonely moments all these memories you ask me to return back. ............. return back. The song and its expressions are matchless. https://soundcloud.com/misha-w-khan/junaid-jamshed-tum-kehti-ho

One can stop speaking,  writing, expressing, telling, drawing, seeing, wishing or dreaming. But how can one stop 'Feeling' How can one stop 'Being'?

Sitting at the bar counter he was listening to the fast changing tracks of dance music in the club. It was weekend in Madrid and Madrilenians were busy dancing and drinking. "Hey You are still sitting here. No plans for dancing?" , He turned around on the revolving chair and saw her. She was half drunk. He refused her offer for the third time and gently removed her hand resting on his shoulder. He could see the disappointment in her eyes but he could not help it. He was not interested. Sally was not Spanish. She was an Englishwoman. He met her once or twice before and tonight she was here with him at this club. He could not figure out why. Suddenly he did not want any company anymore. and surely not a woman's company. He rotated the glass of red wine then. This glass reminded him of someone, someone he used to relate with wine and intoxication. He thought he needed alcohol to calm his nerves, but the glass in his hands was still full. Even alcohol was not the sol

It wasn't easy for her to bear this, she knew it already. Seeing him with the woman he loved was supposed to be an emotional jolt for her. One of the moments when she felt like running away from Spain. Just Thursday night when they all were having dinner together he announced that he wanted everyone and specially Bibi jaan to have a meeting with the woman he was looking forward to get married. "Helen Martinez" , the only name that clicked her mind. Why didn't it ever occur to Mawra suhail that during her stay in Madrid she may have to see the lady of honor too? The fork she was using to lift the bite of chicken steak could not reach her mouth. Suddenly she lost her appetite. And then a midst the frenzied gossiping about the lady to be, everybody got so involved that nobody appeared to have feel the absent mindedness and quietness of Mawra. For her though, it was a blessing. The restlessness prevailing. She along with Mariah planned the menu for the evening

On the marathon tract of life there comes a line where forgetfulness meets up remembrance. Where one comes to a halt the other continues with the journey.

At times when you pray, there is just one prayer and just one name.

The first glimpse, even for a fraction of a second. The first few minutes of hearing the voice being passionately anticipated for. The first exchange of unexpressed feelings. Like the first drop of a rainfall, the ecstasy of the first encounter is matchless.

I had to rush. Time was rushing too. It was a lovely February morning in Karachi, Pakistan. The smooth chilled breeze at the sea shore was refreshing to the core. The lush green lawn of this elegant hotel located by the sea was filled with people of diversification. I reached at the edge of the small flight of stairs that was leading to the vast expense of lawn. Sheema kirmani was performing on the stage and the echoes of the shadow were visible on the larger than life screen. I looked for him. But that was absurd. It was impossible to find anyone in this crowd. So I decided the next best thing. I moved towards the hall specified for his session. Room 007. There wasn't anyone there yet except for a cute couple (later found out to be his dedicated fans and my newly acquired friends). I selected the best seat with the best view of the stage. And silently, began waiting. Slowly the crowd moved in and the hall was full in no time. My pulse ran higher and I began to have palpitations

At time we say words and move on. But the resonance of emptiness inside those words tease for long, sometimes indefinitely. They keep coming back somehow. harmless and worthless words like .... Goodbyes. A Good-bye. You say and you move on. Just like that. it doesn't take much. Yet a harmless and worthless word like a simple goodbye can extract all of the energy from you. It can make your limbs go lifeless and leaves your body into endless shivering. it can drench you in sweats and make you feverish. Words could be empty and yet could have heavy burden. So you move on, thinking its all over. gone, done with. chapter closed , book thrown back into the shelf. Ironically the pages and leaflets from the book through some tiny holes into your skin, crawling like baby snakes, bite you endlessly. When you try hard to realize yourself, you win, you actually lose. You fail to say goodbye to the bitter-sweet memories. And then the next morning you wake up and promise again, to m

Toss and turn burn or yearn? Sleepless-ness  nothingness? bitter-sweet memories? endless nights insomniac?