Silent Whispers - Revisited

Most of the things that appear attractive from a distance , lose their charm once observed from nearness. Only some of them would be truly enchanting and the dilemma is those truly enchanting things, are strictly forbidden.

Trying to forget you was no easy task it demanded a lot of effort and in this exhausting endeavor I broke myself

وہ  دور ہو تو بجا ترک دوستی کا خیال  وہ سامنے ہو تو کب اختیار  اپنا ہے

And then there comes a time when you feel so helpless , with things not going the way you planned and expected, with every situation seems to be anti-you and the most important ingredient of life i.e. peace is missing from your life   And then as if an angel being sent towards you to show you this ayah 

How much less how much more the dream in the dreams, says it all how chilled winds tantalize the skin pores how waves strike the solitary shore how the moon smiles down in harmony with the season of pleasure and woe, together how the music transforms an illusion into the festivity not known to be there, at all The smallest of the moments whispered, then to forget the heartache and embrace the flow

“Snowflakes swirl down gently in the deep blue haze beyond the window. The outside world is a dream. Inside, the fireplace is brightly lit, and the Yule log crackles with orange and crimson sparks. There’s a steaming mug in your hands, warming your fingers. There’s a friend seated across from you in the cozy chair, warming your heart. There is mystery unfolding.” ― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Such silence I could hear the sound of my heart breaking

This should not be stranger than strange itself how we lose gradually...... almost everything Initially the connection, then the orbit in which your rotation was taking place. then the attachment and finally the feelings its a slow on-going process nothing re-built it, not even the happy season going on in the outside world the inner world remains sad and then in the end nothing remains but emptiness which echoes once or twice, sometimes in busy hours, sometimes in the middle of a peaceful sleep. yes, we lose everything but the echoes in our bloodstream.

Somber days and whimsical nights great readings and wavering writings poetry to prose and research papers teaching and learning all alongside chilled winds and coffee fumes longing hours and passionate dreams melancholy and  enchantment so many moments yet so much missing this December goes with amalgamated feelings

Sometimes we are scared of sleeping Infact it's not the sleep but the dream that haunts us That we don't want to see again The dreams that end up painfully The dreams that take you miles apart from your beloved 

Its not until you yourself are ill that you realize the suffering someone else might be going through And sometimes being a doctor and self treatment doesn't help much either.

Its so confusing when you can not name the sadness prevailing in the depth of your heart or may be you can name it 'melancholy' but you can not connect it one particular person or matter? and you keep on rotating in the cause and effect cycle with no way out. 

The loneliness of this silent hour Scares me For it opens up The chapters That were written and closed

اس کائنات محبت میں ہم مشل  شمس وقمر کے ہیں  اک رابطہ مسلسل ہے، اک فاصلہ مسلسل ہے  

A crazy dream A restless night A disturbed  awakening A somber beginning of the morning Often leads to a day filled with apprehensions,  restlessness and melancholy 

You live within our hearts like an open stab wound which bleeds each time we hear your names You shed from our eyes like rain filled clouds which pour without season when we see your image You ache in our souls like a baby about to born among the cries of agony when we see your parents You all have gone long and must have found peace but those remain behind bear a scar on their hearts never to be healed.

No its not writer's block Its something else Just wondering why am I not writing much these days!

https://youtu.be/rDVH-ltlMpE https://youtu.be/rDVH-ltlMpE Some songs won't leave you in peace

We miss many important chances in life sometimes they are meant to make a difference Like a chance to speak to someone, you just saw and felt like speaking to. Like a chance to buy a book, you just read a review about and then its name forgotten Like a poem you intended to write but distractions made you forget all of it Like a child you could have but was missed inside the womb and was sent to heaven Like a person you never intended to know, but eventually knew him too deeply Like those few words which you were supposed to say to him, but never did and you both moved on to separate ways. So many chances, so many advances, so many treasures, remain undiscovered.

There comes a season of color-less-ness like a tasteless cup of tea like a harsh winter wind like a lifeless sketch like a half hearten message like a long-lost love

A Late night mode A dose of heavy medicine A sleepy self A thick blanket of memories A distant you

I do not miss you, but the things you used to say I do not think much, but the way your eyes saw I do not remember, but the feelings you generated I do not know, but this longing that never faded

Thank you fever for catching up with me again Thank you for making me drowsy And sleepy And thank you so much for letting me forget about other pain

سردیوں   کی  ہلکی ہلکی سی دھیمے سے پھیلتی دھوپ کتنی  پیاری  لگتی ہے   جیسے کوئی چپکے سے زندگی  کے معمول شامل ہو رہا ہو  جیسے کوئی   بھولی بسری جان فضا یاد لوٹ آئی ہو  جیسے کسی گم گشتہ داستان کا  قصّہ دہرایا گیا  ہو  جیسے کوئی دلفریب چہرہ مدّت بعد دکھائی   دیا  ہو

Some days are apparently big. Like today. When I'll be presenting my M.Phil Pathology thesis in front of the audience. Fingers crossed.

میں نے بہت کم  خوبصورتی ، ذہانت  اور دل گدازی کے ایسے امتزاج دیکھے ہیں جن سے پروین آراستہ تھیں   میں ان سے کبھی مل نہیں پائ  مگر میں انہیں ان کے لفظوں کی خوشبو سے جان لیتی ہوں   وُجود کو جب   مُحبٌت کا وَجدان مِلا تو شاعری نے جنم لیا۔ اِس کا آھنگ وھی ھے جو موسیقی کا ھے کہ جب تک  سارے سُر سُچے نہ لگیں گلے میں نوُر نہیں اُترتا دِل کے سب زخم لو نہ دیں تو  حرف میں روشنی نہیں آتی۔ ”پروین شاکر“

when I stopped waiting for U and even stopped looking, days have gone silent and nights have grown darker time is standing still while heart has drowned father

Is it true? Out of sight out of mind? Is it this easy? Oh really? 

Last night, your lost memories crept into my heart as spring arrives secretly into a barren garden as a cool morning breeze blows slowly in a desert as a sick person feels well, for no reason

Australia awargi Mustansar Hussain Tarar

All those endless conversations that abruptly came to an end And those shy truthful confessions the air would never hear again those sleepy wakeful nights with eyes and words drunken All those made me compose, the words which otherwise were unspoken

“Tell me the story.. About how the sun loved the moon so much.. That she died every night.. Just to let him breathe...” ― Hanako Ishii

There exists nothing further between us , now but quietness, nothing more nothing less from the last shade in horizon to the first morning sun ray this deepening, tormenting quietness through the endless nights to slowly passing days this saddening, killing quietness

I put my emptiness inside an empty earthen pot just then it began to vibrate so heavily, the waves would collide with my heartbeats changing its rhythm to irregularity

Temptations and infatuation wouldn't last for long That's where I realize It was something else. 

Another new morning which brought nothing but emptiness

Running after someone's footsteps doesn't necessarily mean we will find them. 

This morning feels peaceful After a restless night

Sometimes I wonder if you could ever miss me the way I miss you. 

And then I stopped at the phrase which read..... going back to love Going back to love? sounds insane. If you could come out of this maze called love, find a way out to run away, that's the only option which may lead you to going back to love. What is the other way? Its either to love or not to love. No in-betweens! If there is a spark it will ignite, always If there is none, the ice cold feelings will never melt. What is between them? I can never fathom. And the most painful time is where you keep on guessing, whether it is a spark or an snow covered peak and never find an answer!

There are days which are rough and then there are others which are roughest No gaps in between!

How long can you wonder if that particular someone cares about you? If they care they would show. not showing = not caring End of story!

Sometimes even the prospect of happiness bring forth a fear of accompanying sadness. Why is it so difficult to be happy?

some words are impossible like always some words are tricky like remember some words are stubborn like forget-me-not some words are shallow like trust me some words are eternal like I'm here some words are risky like I love you some words are unsaid like tears some words are forever like your name.

Thought I was forgetting bit by bit, as the days passing all smiles and tears all insane conversations all desires and attractions about you and about us and then out of no where a poem, a few words an image. arrives as reminder as if to make sure I am still there where I was.

Heavy eye lids couldn't be lifted As though they had been Sealed by the beloved In a good-night kiss

Sometimes we give so much into those feelings that they seem strange to us,looking back from a distance, As if it was a remote memory. As if it was a state of drunkenness. But it was not, or else the memory wouldn't have been as crystal clear.

Waiting Anywhere For anything Is not easy! 

Knocked at each door looking inside all  slits and windows to see if some other being, could help to remove the shadow, that over looming shadow you have onto me.

I wonder if you noticed This morning The streaks of my tears On your pillow 

کچھ ربط ، رابطوں سے بڑھ  کر ہوتے ہیں ، ان کے لئے سہارے تلاشنے نہیں پڑتے  

Find me in the falling leaves dispersed in various shades of autumn Find me in the wind that blows from my land towards yours Find me in the fragrance on your skin, where I left some imprints Find me in the coffee fumes we never happened to share together Find me in the colors of your brush for you wouldn't know of all my favorite shades Find me in words I wrote, as they were meant for you alone.

Wishing it was only a niģhtmare and nothing more

Couldn't find out what allured me towards you but since then there is only way, your way. Couldn't still know what persuades me for returning towards you each time I plan to run away. And as if this life is a pendulum oscillating between goings and returning.

Less often I come across such lovely piece of poetry worth re-reading. تاریکی کا بھید کھلے اور تو آئے دیواروں پر دھوپ پڑے اور تو آئے خاموشی کےلحن میں آنکھیں بات کریں ان دیکھی تصویر بنے اور تو آئے چھم چھم بارش برسے ترسے کھیتوں پر سوندھی سی خوشبو آئے اور تو آئے تو آئے اور آنگن آنگن روشنی هو روشنیوں کی نهر بهے اورتو آئے خوشحالی کے گیت سنائیں ناچیں، گائیں شادابی کا شهد گھلے اور تو آئے روز امید کا دیا جلاؤں ،سو جاؤں  صبح سویرے آنکھ کھلے اور تو آئے لفظوں کی مزدوری کرتے دن گزرے شام ڈھلے،پھر دیا جلے، اور تو آئے حماد نیازی

From roaring crowds to a selected few, from randomization to optimization, from everywhere to specific there, from seemingly nice to exceedingly rare, I have transformed. The age , as it is passing on, moving forward, has let me set standardization , for who I meet and whom I like to be with. From collections to selections, I have stepped down to selections and trying to know ways to preserve them. I have changed, I have grown stubborn, I do not look for people, for goodness, for beauty. For years I have been looking for them. Now they come running down towards me and I enjoy waiting for them, just waiting, no chasing. for I have learned, though the hard way, what is destined to be mine, will be mine, eventually. I did not know, this patience would grow inside me, but it has. Life is full of surprises!!

And now this twisted ankle Ask me what blessing it is to walk normally!

There are two exhausting phases in life One, when your mind gives up yet your body drags on That's called Physical exhaustion Other, when your mind gives up yet your heart drags on That's called Love

What is this helplessness  In these odd moments  Whenever I seek an escape  I end up thinking of you. 

When body demands sleep as every bone screams when mind wouldn't agree as it avoids dreams When nothing persists but nothingness when words fly in emptiness then only arises a poem in all its tenderness.

And I thought its been so long, so long that the voice becomes a whisper and the face turns into a shadow as the dreams changes their form and the seasons come and go the words begin to fade and the love? the love stands still holding breath, in waiting in these uncertain times there comes a night which makes your memories, alive.

I'm not a born princess who used to wake up feeling a pea in her bed Then why would I wake up feeling a hidden hairpin in my hair May be if I were born in some other times I would have had a chance! 

The world was the same arrogant, affluent and cruel It still is the same in the phase when you and I exist, at one moment in time It will remain the same when you and I will not be a happening part of it, with a slight difference though, It will miss having, Our fabulous story.

Looked for love everywhere In embracing  words In tunes and melodies In the shades of a deep voice In the powerful expression Of sentimental poetry in rains and beaches In seclusion and in crowd In tears and smiles In flowers and fragrances But see where did I find it In the hidden message Inside a bottle In the silent conversation Of speaking eyes

While teaching my students about hypertension I wish I could tell them Its not the only silent killer, known.

In the midst of rainfall Or on viewing an eye-catching Bright spherical moon While driving when on radio waves You hear any of my favorite melodies When someone is discussing Any of the books I used to read When picking up your phone Reminds of a text I ever sent When in some beautiful face Your eyes search for me or When the going gets tough And you seek a moment of comfort In all those secret moments When you are simply yourself I wonder Do you ever think of me? 

When all the world is peacefully resting in their dreams The only cursed insomniacs stay up. Those who were condemned to stay restless because they used to miss someone. 

Who says dream is afar from reality? Then what of this dream which had you and me And many others we know and belong to But inspite if being in one atmosphere I could see nothing more than a glimpse of you This is all about us,  after all Looking for only  a glimpse As the time passes by How dreams being a fig of reality How realitycould be as harsh as a dream.

If only they could be together your colors, my words your brushes, my pens your sketches, my poems your drawings, my dreams Then only, they would have dwelt your pleasures my pains.

"Tu Badalta Hai To Besakhta Meri AankheN Apne HathoN Ki LakeeroN Se Ulajh Jati HaiN" Praveen Shakir V

In the late hours Of a silent night Nothing can replace Your presence Not even a good book. 

ذہن  کے جھروکے  میں   یادوں  کا   پھیرا    آنکھوں کے روزن  پر  خوابوں کی چلمن  اور دل کی دہلیز پر  دھرا  اک انتظار  !جاتا نہیں ہے

 میں تھا ERوہ ایک بار پھر   وہ دشمن جان ابھی تک بے ہوشی کی اسی  کیفیت میں تھی ، متعدد ڈاکٹر اور اسٹاف اس کی خبر گیری  میں مصروف تھے  وہ بے بسی  کے عالم میں بستر کے  سرہانے کھڑا اسے دیکھتا رہا  ہر ڈاکٹر کی پیشہ ورانہ زندگی میں ایسی بے بسی کے لمحے ضررو آتے   ہیں جب وہ اپنی بے شمار صلاحیتوں اور قابلیت کے با وجود  اپنے مریض کو زندگی کی طرف لوٹا نے میں ناکام ہو رہا ہوتا ہے  مگر جب مریض کوئی اپنا ہو، جس سے دلی یا جذباتی وابستگی بھی ہو تو بے بسی کی کیفیت اذیت دینے لگتی ہے  وہ بھی ایسی ہی غیر بیانیہ سی اذیت سے گزر رہا تھا   سے باہر آنے پر اسے یاد آیا ER  وہ تو کسی کے ساتھ یہاں ہسپتال پنہچا تھا ، اور زینیا کی  پرواہ کرتے کرتے وہ شیرل کی مجودگی کو یکسر فراموش کر چکا تھا  اسے افسوس نے آ گھیرا   کے ساتھ مصروف تھی ipad وہ ویٹنگ لاؤنج میں اپنے   عمر اس کے برابر آ کر   بیٹھ گیا  : سب ٹھیک  ہے؟" اس نے  پوچھا  "وہ ...

No I do not miss you. Its just that I miss my old self.

We all have that one spark which kindles the flame of our existence.