Silent Whispers - Revisited

Years ago Meeting you was like Using a slow speed internet Saving each moment Every fragrant evening All starry smiles and  Unshed tears  Each treacherous heartbeat and Trembling fingers  All profound talks and Each silent whisper Slowly and gradually One by one Step by step Downloading it all on hard drive of memory cells Only to recall  When it hit hard again!

I used to seek refuge In the embrace of your memory Whenever there were hard times Whenever a reality hit me hard All I had to do was To close my eyes To shut down the pain And remember your eyes Speaking and comforting me And now when the thoughts of you Have gone past me When I don't even remember The depth of your eyes and The warmth of your embrace I tremble like a lonely feeble leaf Troubled in the whirlwind Falling on unseen land.

شب کے بولتے  سناٹے میں   ہولے ہولےچلنے والی ہوا   ڈھونڈتی پھرتی ہے  ہجر کی گہری دھول میں لپٹی  ایک ادھوری نظم  جانے کتنے ساون بیتے  قطرہ قطرہ   بہنے والی  بوندوں کی جھنکاروں میں  ایک اک مصرع  جوڑ کے ہم نے  ایک نظم پروئی تھی  دکھ سکھ کے قصّے تھے جس میں  ہنسنے کی ملھار بھی تھی  آنسو کے گھلتے ذائقے میں  ہجر کی چبھتی پھانس بھی تھی  اب کے ساون پھر ہے لوٹا  تیرے میرے خواب لیے  شب کے بولتے سناٹے میں  ہولے ہولے چلنے والی ہوا  لفظ ڈھونڈتی پھرتی  ہے  میرا مصرع وہیں رکھا ہے  تم اپنا مصرع بھجوا دو  یاد تو دھول میں لپٹی رہے گی  نظم مکمّل ہو جانے دو  نازش امین  شب کے بولتے سناٹے میں ہولے ہولے ہوا چلی ہے ڈھونڈتی کھوجتی بٹک رہی ہے ہجر کی گہری دھول میں لپٹی  ایک ادھوری نظم جانے کتنے ساون بیتے  قطرہ قطرہ بہنے والی بوندوں کی جھنکاروں میں کوئی ایک اک مصرع جوڑ...

On a long road home with undefined paths And unseen trails She walked on With stars in eyes And hopes in skies With dreams and smiles And unmeasured miles She walked on Hopes and desire Ardour and fire One after another  Left her deserted,yet She walked on Passion and pain Devotion and strain All left her then Hopeless and slain, yet she walked on With eyes burning And tender longing One thing remained Her sleepless yearning  And with kindled desires She walked on.

Days move on, nights stand still Like the tiring engine of a moving train It needs to come to a halt to breath in And as she breathes heavily,  they begin to pour in One by one, and then all of them Faces and gestures, words and whispers, Tears and laughter, quarrel and warmth. partings and meetings, hugs and kisses Some depart in silence with longing in eyes Hands unheld  as the automatic door closes Leaving behind that girl, soaked in showers Night brings them on, one after another as The longing remains, and yearning prevails  And the days move on, at a fast pace Like the running engine of a moving train

Was it a dream or Was it you whispered in my ears Was it a mirage or Was it you sitting next to me Was it a fragrant breeze or Was it you passed me by Was it your eyes or Was it me imagining you watching me Was is really you or Was it my delusion of us together Was it a time frame or Was it all beyond the boundaries of space and time?

As we grow old our vision grows alongside our responsibility. Specially as a human who needs to care for the surroundings. The surroundings not only include immediate family and friends but also those to whom we are connected through our daily connections. Time comes when the phases of growing up switched over. We from a learner become learned and then process that learning process forward. Although learning never stops but the process takes its various forms. And when you grow into a learned person, the balance of happiness versus sadness alters. More harsh realities transform you into a silent and sad individual and simultaneously smiles and laughter become less frequent. This is how our developing awareness beat us down.

I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you. ― Jonathan Safran Foer, Ever “One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen.”  ― John O'Donohue “Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds it’s way back to you.”  ― Ranata Suzuki “How sad, he thought, that desire found new objects but did not abate, that when it came to longing there was no end.”  ― Allegra Goodman, The Cookbook Collector