LOLZ...

You Are 40% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird...But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

Without Remorse

Lost for words- yes, that’s what he was feeling at that particular instant. He had been an eloquent speaker throughout his life- yet at the time when he was needed to say some words, he just couldn’t; for they had no meanings for him anymore. He wondered- he thought- he pondered upon things surrounding him but nothing came off. He could feel the glaring eyes of people which had a has-he-lost-it expression written all over them. Yet, he felt so oblivious to them- so numb- so forgetful of them. How could he- he tried to think about it because it was one thing he had never thought that he would do.

He always wanted freedom- freedom of speech- freedom of thought- freedom of soul- freedom from life itself. But everything seemed so irrelevant and relative right now for he had gained the freedom but lost the words, the thoughts, the soul and the life he had always wished for. Ironical- yes it does sound ironical. He was an advocate of freedom for crying out loud; and here he was, finally with the choice to say things he always wanted to, but not able to do so. Why? Everyone in the large hall room was thinking the same thing- Why?

He wished for things that never took place- he wished for things that never existed- he wished for life that never was real- yet he wished for death at the same time. With contradiction and conflict all around- he was lost in the abyss of cognition- yet he knew nothing. Blasphemy- he was accused of it once. Now God gave him the chance to rectify things- to tell the world that he was not an agnostic- to let people know that he was not an atheist- to speak out loud what he really meant in his writings against religion or the practices that he carried out.

Nothing spoken- utter silence- engulfing the huge hall like the light from the chandelier surrounded the whole arena. A sudden outburst of tears- tears flowing from his eyes- tears of regret- tears of sorrow- tears of joy even. A sudden mumbling hymn coming from the rows of the church they were in. They all felt that he regretted what he had done- these tears were a way to apologize for what he had done. Nothing said- nothing done- just a silent enigma- this man was turning out to be.

Salvation- they were all here for salvation. The mumbles had turned into loud recitation of bible- the bells had started ringing- the bishop standing high- people lost in the euphoria of it all. The man was about to be declared sinner for the rest of his life- and was to be abandoned by everyone. People wanted him to accept his blasphemous behavior- yet he was not ready. He was still silent- as silent as a cold winter night in the Atlantic. And there it was- the decision of “God” to abandon this guy.

His crime- he did not believe in God- or he was not convinced about it- he was confused- Why? Because if there was any God present than He would make sure that every human being was treated equally in this world. This man described religion as the tool to oppress and create classes. He wanted his children to go to the same school where children of billionaires go to. But he was a sinner- and sinners deserve to go to hell. So, hell it is going to be for him.

The man grabbed the candle stand from a shelf near him and stuck it into his heart. Blood- running down the isle of the church.

Freedom; he wished for- and freedom; he got.

Circles of Life

“You are the only one who knows me really well.” She wiped the tears that were about to come out of her eyes when these words came out of her mouth.

“Don’t you ever try to go away; Life is a journey not a destination. We are all here to sacrifice our souls, our minds and our bodies. For what! Have you ever stopped from your daily fucking routine and wondered- wondered why I am here- wondered why am I sacrificing my soul, my mind and my feelings? Have you?”

The rain came pouring down as her tears were lost somewhere in the raindrops- raindrops that were as ruthless as her addressee- raindrops that really did not care. She had lost- lost to her own dreams- lost to her own ecstatic expectations- lost to her own will- she had lost. She was surprised by the surprises that had brought her to this moment in her life- she was depressed by the depression that had taken her over by storm- she was lost in the lost triangle made by herself, her surroundings and the people around her- so surprised, so depressed, so lost…

Lightening struck some residential area nearby; The lines that it made for a split second through the black sky were just enough to show him the lines of tears, flowing down her face, mixed with raindrops. Still, he didn’t speak anything; there was a stupid little I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck expression on his face.

“How can someone be so callous?” She thought; but she never realized the fact that she had spoken her thoughts aloud- loud enough to be heard despite of the sound that a commercial airliner was creating at that very moment just before its landing. They were standing on a hanging bridge which connected the two parts of the city over the river, just like the relationship, they shared, was hanging and was about to fall into pieces- the only difference being that this bridge was not connecting the two parts of the same city- it was only lying there rendered useless after the destruction of one part of the city.

“The journey ends here, mike.” She said as a car fizzed past them.

Mike was awakened to reality by the splash of water about three hundred feet below his feet away. The rain had stopped and moon’s light was just enough to let him see the ripples that splash had created.

“The circles of life” He thought as he kept staring at them.

Sirens. Blue and red lights.

Another splash. The difference this time was that there was no one there to actually see how two sorts of ripples were joining and canceling each other’s effects.

She hadn’t lost after all.

A Request

Going through old times and remembering good old memories is quite interesting and at times quite painful as well. Well, I have had the pleasure and the trouble of going through the memory lane tonight. People have been always around me; as a matter of fact they have been around for everyone. I was just wondering why the heck do I have so many expectations from people. And then I realised that I had stopped doing so. I don't know why. But I guess, as it turns out to be, its good. I have stopped caring for people, I have lost what had hurt me most yet it had given me the most treasurous moments of my life.

I want to save them and lock them somewhere safe. And for all my effort I can't find a place where I can keep them. Tired and unprepared, I give up. But what is the point of giving up everything when everything wants you to be there. I sometimes wonder why I was born in the family I am in right now. I sometimes wonder why people have good relationships. I sometimes wonder why life is so easy for some people. Are they better than me, do they deserve more? I don't know. I am just so lost at the moment.

I am the last thing I want to know about. Yet I keep on getting to know more. Ironical, Isn't it? I don't know. And I don't care. I am filled with random thoughts that keep popping up here and there when I sit alone and start to think. But then my mind is continuosly thinking anyways, then why does it have to be random at certain points of time. I am rendered helpless by all this. I have lost most of the things which I hated most about myself, yet when I try to visualise what I have become, I hate it more. Think. Hate. I. Think. Hate. I. Think. Hate. I. Think. Hate. World. Think. Hate. I.

What the heck. I should be giving up all the treasures that God has bestowed upon me for I have been unthankful and ungrateful all along. I don't deserve this, I don't deserve that. I want this, I want that. I am this tiny creature in such gargantuan universe that I would no longer exist if it wasn't for God's mercy.

But then how do I thank Him? By being dumb, by being numb. By being the most uncaring creature around. Am I a devil? Has evil conquered my soul? I dare to explore the boundaries of the human mind that are left unexplored for the sole reason of heresy. Have I become a heretic? I don't know.

I don't know anything. I am worthless. And I have lost the people that were most important to me in my life. Well a number of them to be honest. I don't wanna lose another one or else I would be more dumb and numb for the rest of my life and would venture into more heretic worlds. A friend is all that I want from you. A sincere friend who can bear my two faced personality. A friend that could save me from the evil that I have inside me. A friend who could turn me into something real rather than the mirage that I have become.

Don't deny me that. Please don't.

Twelve Monkeys

An excerpt from 12 Monkeys' screen play.



You think you can remove the grill but you can't. It's welded.


See? I toldja. And all the doors are locked, too. They're protecting the people on the outside from us. But the people outside are as crazy as us.


You know what "crazy" is? "crazy" is "majority rules". Take germs for example.


In the 18th century there was no such thing! Nobody'd ever imagined such a thing -- no sane person anyway. Along comes this doctor...Semmelweiss, I think. He tries to convince people... other doctors mostly...that there are these teeny tiny invisible "bad things" called germs that get into your body and make you...sick! He's trying to get doctors to wash their hands. What is this guy...crazy? Teeny tiny invisible whaddayou call 'em?..."germs"!


So cut to the 20th century! Last week in fact, right before I got dragged into this hellhole. I order a burger in this fast food joint. The waiter drops it on the floor. He picks it up, wipes it off, hands it to me...like it was all okay.


"What about the germs?" I say. He goes, "I don't believe in germs. Germs are just a plot they made up so they can sell you disinfectants and soap!" Now, he's crazy, right? Hey, you believe in germs, don't you?


Of course not, I never thought you were crazy. You want to escape, right? That's very sane. I can help you. You want me to, don't you? Get you out?


Why don't I escape, that's what you were going to ask me, right? 'Cause I'd be crazy to escape! I'm all taken care of, see? I've sent out word.


I've managed to contact certain underlings, evil spirits, secretaries of secretaries, and assorted minions, who will contact my father. When he learns I'm in this kind of place, he'll have them transfer me to one of those classy joints where they treat you...properly. LIKE A GUEST! LIKE A PERSON! SHEETS! TOWELS! LIKE A BIG HOTEL WITH GREAT DRUGS FOR THE NUT CASE LUNATIC MANIAC DEVILS...


Sorry. Really sorry. Got a little agitated. The thought of escaping crossed my mind and suddenly...suddenly I felt LIKE BENDING THE FUCKING BARS BACK, RIPPING OFF THE GODDAMN WINDOW FRAMES AND...EATING THEM, YES, EATING THEM, AND LEAPING, LEAPING...


You dumb assholes! I'm a mental patient! I'm supposed to act out. Wait til you morons find out who I am. My father's gonna be really upset. AND WHEN MY FATHER GETS UPSET, THE GROUND SHAKES! MY FATHER IS GOD! I WORSHIP MY FATHER.


Torture! Experiments! We're all monkeys.

The End

“Slow you might end up being in the valley on the right” A voice came from the rear seat of the mini van he was driving. “The road is bumpy, you’ll get us hurt.”

Inside his mind, he wanted to tell them all to shut up, but he did not want to do so. He was there to make them happy after all. He was their friend- their cohort- their support after all. So, there he was, happy and rejuvenated. He realized he was driving fast, but who gives a damn- He was a safe driver and always completed the journey before time- it was his plan to go on this journey with his friends, and here he was driving the car while the rest of his friends were at the back- blabbering, gibbering, tattling and dancing. Nobody even asked once if he wanted to join them. He was thinking- thinking about the good times he had shared with these people- but then these were the good times for them only- he had always been there to make them happy, to satisfy them and to pretend that he was as good as they were…

A sudden thought came into his mind in a flash- was he being selfish? Was he over reacting? Was he even worthy to be called their friend? But then; were they worthy of his friendship? He didn’t want to think in those terms. He had always so selflessly sacrificed everything for his family and friends.

Bang!!!

Everything spinning around him- lights glaring him in his eyes- sirens thundering- voices echoing- his eyes closed.

He woke up in a deserted land- no living being could be seen for miles- silence was deafening- yes “the silence” was deafening for him- sun was scorching down his throat- barren land spread for acres around him. He wanted to drink but water was not there. He wanted to eat but the food was not there- he wanted to run away but could not find his legs- he was lying helplessly- as helpless as a new born child waiting for its mother to feed it. He wanted to remember how he had reached this abyss- this void- this unfathomable arroyo. His mind was numb- his thoughts were random- his memory lost in the fireworks. Suddenly he saw a vulture flying directly above him- surprisingly he was ecstatic to see it- it was life after all- life which was absent from this quagmire- life which was even missing within himself- a sign of life finally- he thought. The beast was flying in his direction with its nose aimed at his chest- he knew it was going to be over- he knew it all was going to end- he knew and he was happy.

Bang again!!!

Now there were more vultures around him. He could not move yet he was sitting there, thinking- thinking how life less he was. He loved those vultures. At least they were a sign of life- so what if they were eating his flesh. He was back again. The end was so near yet so far.

Straight from Arsene Wenger's desk...

"The bad moments always stick out more. The good moments you feel are normal because you work for them, that can sound a bit pretentious but the bad moments, they hurt you deeply."




The Arsenal boss is hundred percent right. Isn't he?

18th July, 2005

It has been exactly one month now. I bet you remember the exact timing as well. But life has gone on to change a lot of things- life has made me hate you more- life has made you hate me more- the nuts have become more nutty- the ideas have gone astray- minds have been battered- Still I move on...

You were afraid, you weren't ready- I thought I was too. Raindrops did fall every night- clouds covered the sky and then washed the earth with those raindrops every night. Mysteries kept on unveiling themselves- truth was difficult to understand- you have cracked me up more than any chocolate coated nut-

The nut is beginning to show its crooked self- the chocolate has been melted- and it has only been a month. And then nut also asks me to F off- not that I won't, but I don't know why I can't. 18th July, 2005 will always be etched in my mind and my memories. I don't know if it was good or bad- I don't even want to know.

I just know that it has been one month since the nut's shell was broken.

Vengeance

The silence is broken. He doesn't know how it was but one thing he surely knows is that IT IS BROKEN. Thats all what matters. He was lost in the dark spaces of the conspicuous mind that he possesed, suddenly a roar came- a roar that tore him apart- a sound that dazzled him- a scream that shook him like anything else could not. He was dreaming or was he. He wanted to know the truth- wanted to overcome the feeling, sense and emotion of being alone. He was sitting amongst all his devils- he was one of them after all- he was one big devilish figure- he wanted to run away. He not only wished to die- he also scurried away from the life itself. He was worthless, he was motionless and yet he was numb. He wanted to die but couldn't muster up the courage to do so. He wanted to run away but couldn't find the place to run to. He wanted to ruin everyone but he couldn't find anyone who he could ruin. Life seemed to be stopped. He wanted more time, he wanted more satisfaction, he wanted more felicity in his life. He couldn't find it and yet he was running after it like a star lost in space. He never wanted to be one- though his parents had always wanted him to be amongst the stars- on the top of this world. But then this world had nothing to do with him, this world had so ruthlessly used him, abused him and then ignored him. He had a revenge to take, he had a rage of vengeance. He wanted to get rid of it. He never was able to do so. Now he finally got to know why. The scream that he heard was from within. He felt contented, he felt satisfied and then he flew away.

Life had taken its revenge, though he never could.

Freedom

Date: 7th August, 2005.
Time: 01:18 a.m
Location: A dark room.

The fan is in motion, dim white light from the monitor captures his imagination. He continues staring at it. Everything seems to be motionless except for the fan. Life is stopped, a sudden rage and anger strikes him. He throws his cell phone away, scampers to a wooden cabinet, looks around at the closed door, brings out the scissor...

The monitor screen goes into darkness with its screensaver showing the word:

FREEDOM.

The Lost Sanctity

She carried on her journey, walking past dead human beings, walking past live beasts, walking past the light house which was as dark as it could get. She wandered around in the narrow streets, roamed through eerie alleys and narrowly escaped dozens of savages. Light was nowhere to be seen, shadows were surrounding her, silence was following her and life, well that she never had. As she entered the ciudad dé entierro- yes the city of funerals, a sign board read:

“Welcome to the River Town”.

“Oh! So they have a river in there as well. That is going to be fun.” She murmured.

Fun, felicity, ecstasy; these were the very things she had been running after through out her journey- a journey she was reluctant to describe as life- a journey that had taken her through the unconscious mind of a child to schizophrenic one that she possessed now.

“The journey never ends.” She remembered her son, who was now dead too, quoting a Gandolph dialogue from the famous movie “Lord of the Rings”.

“How very true it is!” She thought.

She was in the down town now, around her were towering minarets built with dead bodies- corpses not even stinking- corpses looking as if they were euphoric- corpses bound together with one single string- corpses… There in one corner, I stood above a rock. She looked into my eyes, I looked into hers. Lightening crashed- her eyes got closed again. I knew at that very moment, that I don’t have to keep my eyes open as well; so closed they got. My mind was blank and black as a night in Brazilian rain forests- nothing can be seen- beasts roar your heart apart- still your sense of adventure makes you do things you never would do in your sane mind.

Refusal- I wanted to open my eyes again- but refusal was all I got from my eyelids. Why? I wanted to ask- but refusal was all I got from my brain. I wanted to breath- but refusal was what I got from my lungs. So, I finally wished for my heart to burst into pieces- wishing that it too would refuse to obey me, but it never did. There I was, lying on the floor in hundreds of pieces.

She opened her eyes, looked at me again and smiled for the first time, may be in her entire life. I opened my eyes too, looked at her and smiled as well. This time it was not me alone repeating the same exercise; there were hundreds of other pieces of me, the mirror, doing the same as well. She turned her back at me, and walked towards the corpses again. Another beast she is, I thought and became the shining star in the sky above.

She was now walking amongst beasts, more alive than anyone else in the entire city. They never said anything to her, never even stared at her. They were all so busy- all so fuzzy- all so occupied- that nobody even noticed her. She felt embarrassed- she had always thought that her stupefying good looks were more than enough to catch even the brutes’ attention. Now she was traumatized, she wanted to know- wanted to know why all the humans are dead, and why all the beasts are scurrying and rushing past her. She asked a beast to stop, and it didn’t even listen, snubbing her wholly. And then she saw it; every one was rushing towards a building across the block. She went close to have a look for herself.

The board on the top of the building read:

“Sanctity of life lost. Awards Ceremony”

She ran inside and joined the race to get her own award for her part in making it conceivable.

The Arrival

Finally it had arrived. Five years in the mental asylum, five treasured years, had passed since he had been wishing for it. The arrival hadn’t been foreboded, yet there was something deeply auspicious about it. The man lying at the centre of the universe marveled- marveled how all of this could be true- marveled if he was really the centre of the universe or not- marveled how he could have neglected all of it. The winds were blowing, and blowing hard; sky was roaring, roaring loud; world was whirling around him. He knew it would come, but five years, three months, twenty two days, 15 hours, 34 minutes and 19 seconds, had made him forget if it really was there or not.

Screams- screams were closing in from all directions, silence- no where to be found. He wanted to close his ears- wanted to shut his eyes- wanted to embrace what had arrived- wanted to… He wanted to think; think once in his life. He had spent all these years without thinking about anything. It was as if he had lost his ability to think- to wonder. He wanted to think why? Why is it now that the thing, he had wished for during past five years of his life, had arrived; he wanted to run away from it. Blank- that’s what his mind had turned into- a blank piece of NOTHING it was.

Moments, memories, reminiscences and memoirs; did they ever exist? Not that he wanted to have them, but not having them made him think even harder. He had spent his whole life in this mental asylum, a mental asylum that we so proudly call our world, without any hint of impression, sensation, emotion or an association with anyone. He was alone, he was euphoric, he was quenched, he was… Everything seemed to be disconsolate and surreal around him now. The very things that he adored about himself now meant nothing to him, or were, may be, disastrous- ruinous and catastrophic to him.

Answers- still not arriving. The time scampering past him, or may be he was scurrying past time. Time stood still, the world stood still. It was he who was modifying. But then he was also a part of the world, so if he was changing then the world must change as well- this mental asylum should loose one of its psychotic as well; this psychosis had to come to an end. But the world stood still, as if snubbing him completely, indulging in its own routine of ritual killing. He wanted to break the silence around him- he wanted to scream to overcome the sound of screams inside him. Foolishly helpless- yes that’s what he thought of himself at that moment.

Finally, he had stopped evolving, stopped changing, and stopped enduring. Now he stood still for the world. Answers to his queries never arrived, yet the arrival of death had made him still and stagnant, though he would have preferred being still by getting the answers to his questions. He passed away; confused, baffled and bewildered as never before.

Being Numb Is Fun

Someone wrote to me: Being numb is fun.

I never cerebrated in my entire life that I would come across another mortal who shares the same impressions about being numb. But then what is it about numbness that is so exceptional and peculiar? To be veracious I don’t know and I really don’t want to know, because for me it means felicity- it means delectation- it means self indulgence- and it means finding peace within me. Life is short and we have ranges to cross, obligations to fulfill, responsibilities to carry out and vaults to overcome, but why is that one never finds ataraxis in any of these things.

For me peace and calm within myself is- when I am befuddled within I- when nothing seems to really matter for me- when iniquity prevails around my body- but then even when its so gloomy outside why do I feel that I am not in absolute darkness anymore? Why do I feel as if there are millions of 1000 watts bulbs beaming inside of me? I don’t know- I really don’t know. Because the world can go to hell for all that I care.

Completely incomplete, yes that’s what I feel when I come out of this self created mold- the mold that allows me complete freedom- the mold that gives me the true ecstasy of life- the mold that provides me with the true delineation of my own self- the mold that gives me the opportunity to dream. Yes, dreams, I do believe in them. But then, how do we know what is real and what is a dream, a conjuration and a fantasy? How do we know that the life we are living is not a dream? Yes you guessed right, I really don’t know.

For billions of people around the world, reality is this world. But for me reality is much bigger than this world, its about getting to know yourself in the context of this world- this universe- but let me clarify here. We human beings have this nature of adapting to most rugged circumstances, but why is it that we cry over an infinitesimal affair, we recede our heart at one failure? Why? For me it is because I believe there is a soul deep down all of us- a soul that keeps on reminding us that we are mortal after all. But then it’s not all, is it? Life is bigger than you, me, our soul or this world for that matter.

So, why go into this complexity? Why not save these moments to ourselves? To realize what we really are- to be lost in our own mind- to be numb to everything around us- to let our senses rest for a moment. For me this is fun, and if being numb provides me that, I agree, being numb IS fun.

Kolachi

Me in karachi these days... extremely busy... so dun have the time to get online... so no updates for a while... :(

A Change of Seasons

I was listening to this song and its amazing lyrics made me post them here.

[Music by Dream Theater]
[Lyrics by Mike Portnoy]

I remember a time
My frail, virgin mindwatched the crimson sunrise
Imagined what it might find
Life was filled with wonder
I felt the warm wind blow
I must explore the boundaries
Transcend the depth of winter's snow
Innocence caressing me
I never felt so young before
There was so much life in me
Still I longed to search for more
But those days are gone now
Changed like a leaf on a tree
Blown away forever
into the cool autumn breeze
The snow has now fallen
and my sun's not so bright
I struggle to hold on
with the last of my migh
tIn my den of inequity
viciousness and subtlety
struggle to ease the pain
struggle to find the sane
Ignorance surrounding me
I've never been so filled with fear
All my life's been drained from me
The end is drawing near....

'Carpe diem, seize the day'
I'll always remember
The chill of November
The news of the fall
The sounds in the hall
The clock on the wall ticking away
'Seize the Day'
I heard him say
Life will not always be this way
Look around
Hear the sounds
Cherish your life while you're still around

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying."

We can learn from the past
But those days are gone
We can hope for the future
But there might not be one
The words stuck in my mind
alive from what I've learned
I have to seize the day
To home I returned
Preparing for her flight
I held with all my might
Fearing my deepest fright
She walked into the night
She turned for one last look
She looked me in the eye
I said, 'I Love You...Good-bye'
"It's the most awful thing you'll ever hear."
"If you're lying to me..."
"Oh, you dearly love her."
"...just have to leave... all our lives."
"Seize the day!"
"Something happened.
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."
"She was killed."

So far or so it seems
All is lost with nothing fulfilled
Off the pages and the T.V. screen
Another world where nothing's true
Tripping through the life fantastic
Lose a step and never get up
Left alone with a cold blank stare
I feel like giving up
I was blinded by a paradise
Utopia high in the sky
A dream that only drowned me
Deep in sorrow, wondering why
Oh come let us adore him
Abuse and then ignore him
No matter what, don't let him be
Let's feed upon his misery
Then string him up for all the world to see
I'm sick of all you hypocrites
holding me at bay
And I don't need your sympathy
to get me through the day
Seasons change and so can I
Hold on Boy,
No time to cry
Untie these strings,
I'm climbing down
I won't let them push me away
Oh come let us adore him
Abuse and then ignore him
No matter what, don't let him be
Let's feed upon his misery
Now it's time for them to deal with me

I'm much wiser now
A lifetime of memories
run through my head
They taught me how
for better or worse,
alive or dead
I realize there's no turning back
Life goes on the offbeaten track
I sit down with my son
Set to see the Crimson Sunset

(Gather ye rosebuds while ye may)
Many years have come and gone
I've lived my life, but now must move on
(Gather ye rosebuds while ye may)
He's my only one
Now that my time has come
Now that my life is done
We look into the sun
'Seize the day and don't you cry,
Now it's time to say good-bye
Even though I'll be gone,
I will live on, live on.'

Prologue

Alastor looked out of the window of black Apache helicopter with a large FBI sign on its tail. His eyes were fixed on the sun setting in the south over Arabian Sea. It felt to him as if it was symbolical of his life- the life that was coming to an end now- the life that he had so ruthlessly wasted on providing others without attaining anything for himself. Yet he was not disappointed nor was he dejected. He had avenged- he had taken the revenge of the cruelties that this world had brought on him. He was contented, satisfied and anyone who looked in his eyes could see a spark in his eyes-the spark of triumph- he thought.

Wishful Thinking

Those days, those were the best days of my life. Standing outside the class room, with a heavy backpack on, I was late yet again. As much as I hated the castigation at that time, I sometimes wonder why I miss those days more than anything in my life. I still remember my first day at school, I was crying, crying the whole time, my teacher had to take special care of me. I never wanted to sit in the class room, but at that time I didn’t know that eighteen years down the line, I would be craving and yearning to go back in time and do it all over again. It was fun, it was excitement, it was enthusiasm, it was thrill, it was ecstasy, yet it was all in innocence.

As I passed some school today, I heard the school bell ringing, which took me to a state of jubilation and euphoria; remembering those amazing moments, yet I was down in the dumps- dejected at the thought that I will never be able to wait for this bell to ring for my break time. I could imagine myself in the middle of all hustle and bustle of break time, with all of us running around, playing games, not wary of the heat of early June. Today, I can’t even bear the thought of leaving my comfy and cozy room to get the guest at the door in June. I wish I could be same person again, I wish I could find all my friends again, I wish I could go back in time, I wish. Yet sometimes I pray to God, I pray for a miracle that will bring my school life back to me, I pray for talks of time machine to be true so that I could go back to those school years of mine, but as much as I hate to admit it, I know it is practically impractical.

Those early to bed, early to rise days, I was in the bed at nine listening to stories- stories of Robin hood, stories of Aladdin, stories of Sinbad- My sister would keep on narrating stories to me until I slept. At that time, I thought, someday I will be one of those heroes; I dreamed of my success stories. Every child does- I did not know that at that time- but very few achieve success. But today- success for me- is that someday I’ll be able to provide my children with the same kind of childhood that I had- the same memories will be theirs as well- they will have dreams too- and I’ll be able to relive my childhood again through them.

Wishful thinking- I know.

Death Bed

He refused to give up. He was fighting- fighting hard to stay alive, fighting hard to bury his worst nightmare- Death, fighting hard to survive one more night before he could lay deep inside the matter that had created him.

“One more night” He muttered to himself.

As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling above and a fan that stood still for it was a cold December night, memories came roaring down the slender burrows of his mind. He could see his mother, his father and his siblings. He imagined his arrival in this world, it seemed like the world hadn’t changed. This was the same hospital he was born in, and it seemed as if he was going to die in it too. Cycle had been accomplished. The sound of ambulance siren reminded him of his first visit to the hospital- a visit which wasn’t destined to end in such a horrendous manner- the death of his mother.

“Same old sirens. Someone is going to hell tonight” He whispered as a quick hint of a faint smile ran across his lips.

He could remember the bizarre incidents on his 6th birthday as precisely as anyone of that age could, for it had changed the course of his life in such a way that it scarcely gave him an opening to be himself later in his life. He had begged God for his mother’s health; she had lung cancer- result of excessive smoking- he had thought at that time. It was his birthday when she had bronchitis attack; the sirens seemed more like the jingle of angels, streaming down from heavens to take his mother away- He had assumed. But God did not listen to his prayers- prayers that he had offered the whole night- he had asked for his birthday gift from God.

“What a wonderful birthday gift it was! Thank you God---d---d” The word God just could not come out of his mouth, it was broken down into pieces, as was his belief in God Itself.

Out of the window of his private room, the sun was setting across the aristocratic and posh neighborhood of the town. World surely hadn’t changed. His father had bought him a bungalow in this part of the town thirty years earlier. Two years later, on an evening like today, he had received a call from the same hospital. His father was dying, dying of loneliness, dying of solitude, dying of isolation. His father had bought him a bungalow but couldn’t draw the love that his son had shown for his mother, for it was his father’s own fault; he had left them both when his son was born. That son would never come. At 4’o clock in the morning he had received another call. His father had died. He couldn’t even be there at the demise of his earthly creator.

“Sorry Dad.” He said while tears flowed out of his eyes.

He was helpless- so helpless that he couldn’t even remove tears from his face. Tears made a stream from his eyes to the fabric on the bed. His own life circle- he thought. Starting from the birth in the eye... and ending at absorption in the fabric and between that- he thought- there will be thousands of memories for a single tear for it had a life of its own too- a life like his own- a life like everyone else in this world.

His trauma shattered by a crying sound from the room on left side.

“Indeed, nothing has changed.” he mumbled to himself, remembering the night when his son was born- when he had witnessed the miracle of his life; the miracle of birth.

Another new born in this world- he thought- another of those children who won’t love their parents- another of those teenagers who are willing to ignore their parent’s illness for a silly dating experience- he continued to curse them as the child’s crying voice disappeared behind the pane of reminiscences and memoirs that he was now recollecting. He had stood up all night, holding his son in his arms so that he wouldn’t cry.

“Son, please come quickly. I need to hold you in my arms for one last time.” He said.

Now he needed his son to hold him in his arms, but his voice kept coming back, echoing back from the walls of the room. It seemed as if his own father was calling him, and he wouldn’t listen. He had been too busy enjoying the sunset with his wife that he had forgotten- forgotten about his father. Now it was his time to repay.

“Life is completing its cycle” he said to himself, “it is taking revenge from me. But I wouldn’t give up, I will fight another night of despair and desolation, I will survive to see my son, I will stay alive until I see my grand son, I will.”

He fell asleep. A deep sleep; result of the medicine he had been injected with.


Author’s note:

It was his daily routine. For four years now, he has been remembering and recollecting all memories and reminiscences every night before he falls to sleep. Hoping that he would see his son before his eternal sleep, hoping that he will never wake up again to suffer these miseries, hoping…
But the cycle continues.

Heaven Whispers

Fear. An eerie night brings fear into my mind, my imagination and my thought. Having spent my whole life searching for the truth- the truth which will set me free- the truth that will guide me- the truth that will bless me, I have even lost count- lost count of the lies, deceptions and shams that I, so blatantly, have committed to find the ultimate reality.

Figures, memories and emotions, are all running through the narrow tunnels of the grotesque, yet tiny, human mind that I possess. But aren’t they the creation of my own mind- the mind which has made me do things- the mind that has decided my fate- the mind that has shaped the reality- the mind that has formed the concept of ME. Do I even exist? Does the reality hold? What is reality? Who defines it? What is real and what is abstract? How do we even know that the person that we are today even exists or not in the universe? Or even does the universe exist or is it the mere thought of our minds? If this universe exists than God must have made it. But then God- What is God? Is it a simple explanation of things that are beyond our imagination or a real entity? Did God create reality or did we form the reality of God?

Silence. Deep silence. Far away from the shores of imagined realism, yes imagined realism, come whispers- whispers that pose these questions- whispers that compel me to find the answers- whispers that leave me clues to discover the veiled secrets, to find the ultimate truth. Yet as I move to unravel this vagueness, I find it impossible to do it without lies, without imagination and without deception. Ironical as it may seem, I am probing for truth by lying; I am searching for reality with abstract imagination. Still I move on- I move on in the hope of silencing these whispers- I move on in the hope of unearthing the mysteries- I move on in the hope of discovering I. I move on.

“Stop.”, Whispers again.

Over my shoulder I can hear whispers, calling my name, trying to stop me. Fear again. Questions running through my mind, yet fearful and terrified enough to not look backwards was I. My feet freeze again, my body stands still, my mind- my mind is battered by a barrage of fear, apprehension, curiosity and queries. Wind starts to blow; I can see it is changing direction now.

“Denial is not the best resort. Reality exists. God exists. I exist.”

“Move forward. I want answers.”

“I must stop, or it may be too late”

My mind is forcing me to budge forward, my feet not willing to do so. Fear running through my veins again- fear of the answers that might lie ahead- fear of the Reality- fear of losing heaven. Yet I want to move onwards to search for the ultimate truth. But fear is a potent, compelling and persuasive power. I have given up. I am not I, I am what heaven whispers. I am reality.

Silence

Silence. Complete silence encompassing every corner of the sea- a sea of hope and promise, a sea heralding the felicity. A part of the vast ocean filled with the water flowing down from the streams of tears, having their source in the glaciers of a battered mind. I am so worthless for I have tried to escape this silence- I have tried. I have tried to challenge the gigantic waves of this gargantuan ocean- I have. The island of success would never come closer; never close enough for me to fight away my fears.

Yet I started my journey- a journey, which I knew, won’t take me anywhere. But I had to put my courage to test. I just had to. The path was not easy, but I was not going to surrender. Hope was the foundation upon which I was building my empire of dreams. Dreams that might not appear to be of much importance to a normal person, but they were everything to me.

Hoping that one-day they’re going to reach the shores of realism. Expecting that all the dreams, all the fantasies will turn into reality. I jumped into this unfathomable ocean. Fighting against all odds, combating my own fears, defending the castle of my dreams. I was not going to hold back. The first sign of life I saw was a bird- a bird that was flying up so high. A bird filled with love, flying far away from me. I was avid; I needed something to fill my appetite for atonement.

Thunder. Thunder that broke the silence. Lightning crashed into that little bird. It fell right next to me. It was alive- alive and even more energetic and vibrant than me. It gave me strength- strength to fight the waves, strength to wipe away my tears. It made me realize- a realization of the verve I had, a realization that I could make it through all the ups and downs of my life.

Water came down from the clouds of contentment, water that washed heartrending thoughts away from my mind. I felt I was someone else, I felt complete, I felt contented.

Clock kept on ticking. Time was moving forward, or was it? Wasn’t the time moving backwards and we budging forward? Time… Time was going to change the course of my existence. For the first time I felt that I could make it. Was I wrong? Was I dreaming? I didn’t know. I just kept on augmenting my vigor from that bird- the bird that had taught me how to realize my dreams, how to defend them, how to find the islands of success. With winds pushing me away from the shores, with thunders deafening me, with lightning making me blind, I continued because I knew I had that bird.

That bird became my friend, my cohort, and my companion. It was my strength. It was my verve. It was my reason of existence. If it were not for that bird, I would have lost hope. I kept on trying, kept on moving. I could see the shores of realism right ahead. Was it an illusion? I hoped it wasn’t. Hope was the only thing that bound that bird and me together. We were so close to reality yet so far. Time was running out. Thunders were louder. Lightning was crashing. Windstorms were gaining strength.

I was not ready to give up but the bird just could not weather the storm- a storm that had united us- a storm that had awakened me- a storm that had given me hope that I could make it. It had left. It had left me amidst the cruel world of my own imagination. It had made me realize that I could not make it. It had betrayed me. It had given up on our dreams. It had made reality seem far away. It had lost me in the ocean of imagination. It had…

Lightning crashed and I was alone again. I was awake. I had given up on my dreams, aspirations, and fantasies. I had lost. I had realized that dreams never existed, that love never existed and that time never existed. It had made me realize that I did not exist- I was not the same person anymore. I was not I. I was mere chimera of what used to be reality. I was dead.

Silence. Silence again…