Month: July 2016

The Shadow of the Crescent Moon

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2016-07-10 04.54.46

I was rather inspired by knowing that this book was written by Fatima Bhutto than knowing what the story of the book was. In fact, not just Fatima Bhutto but any of the bestselling book by any Pakistani writer, I’m aspired and inspired to. It’s a quick read but one simply can’t finish it sooner cuz it simply doesn’t let you.
The Shadow of the Crescent Moon is one of those books which is most difficult to decipher. The writing was, very extraordinarily unusual and difficult to access. The idea and thoughts behind the simple words and story, was much bigger and far intriguing than one had assessed. The whole story reveals itself in the last of the pages of the books so you got to have patience and courage to read it till the end. I didn’t understand the book completely. What Fatima Bhutto has illustrated about the Waziristan, Pakistan tribal areas, the war engaged between Taliban, Afghanis, Army, Politicians squeezed the mere people of the area in between recklessly, puts you in deep reverie about where you currently reside; sitting on comfortable sofa, warm family to welcome, food on table and most of it, a safe house to live in. What I understood is, I’m one of those luckiest people.
Anyone can tell you what the story of the book is: three brothers and two girls, having different perspectives about life, going through some chaotic times, engaged with a war with themselves, freeing themselves from themselves. But what it really is about, what I felt along the ride of obliteration of people and their homeland in the name of peace. It hurts to read everything and it’s even worse in reality but nothing comes out other than a silent sob and a wet tear rolling down your cheek cuz you’re helpless like the people suffering, you simply have no power to overcome the situation, you say that you share the consequences and suffering and understand and feel how they feel but you never can, it’s obvious, that’s what it hurts the most; being helpless. Imagine yourself in that position, in fact it’s even impossible to imagine yourself in those destructive and anytime-bombarded streets. And the killing in the name of Shia Sunna; one cannot deny the simplest of the fact. And that kind of killing has grown much worse in Syria, a massacre, which is slowly creeping its way in Pakistan and soon will rule its place dividing the country into two. From the outside looking in, you can’t understand it; from the inside looking out, you can’t explain it.

Whenever I’ll look at the sight of the crescent moon I’ll come up, every time, with the same question until I have the answer: “What steps one can possibly take, what can I do? Can I give my all of me?”


The Rain

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Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. Its about learning how to dance in the rain.

With the month of July;
Comes the rumors of rain,
Silently whispered by the Angels of Heaven

With this rain, I hear the thunders of more rain yet to come,
The lightening cracks up the ground and sky and everything that exists in between,
the black clouds are ruling the sky,
blocking the whole sun with all its evilness,
quenching its last breath in its heart filled with darkness

The first drop of rain;
is a promise of more tears yet to be shed,
is a sign of hope, audacity and generosity,
is a constant act of struggle,
is an omen of future to embrace,
is a song unsung,
that spreads the aroma of wet dirt across the town,
Ah, this charismatic smell makes me feel soft and strong,
to regain the missed opportunities,
to rejoice the feelings and memories long forgotten, and,
time to relive the lost love!

This rain is dancing with the children,
putting smile in their eyes crawling to their lips,
the rain in which I breathe in,
welcoming it with my arms wide open,
is falling on thy skin,
the soft touch of rain;
kissing everywhere it reaches

Just like a phoenix born from its ashes,
Sun again rises and attains its authority over the dark clouds, but
The memories that beautiful disaster left;
Oh, the rain. It rained on my soul!

The AlChemist

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There comes a time in life, when sitting miles away, you miss your lover, and your head is all noisy with all the words you would’ve said or wanted to say to them which you assure yourself that you will say it to her. But when you finally had the blessing to meet them and are sitting in a warm restaurant on comfortable seats looking directly into her eyes and you try to tell them of all the things which your heart is saying and its tearing your chest out and its speaking so loudly but not even a single word could be delivered from your lips. At that instance, all the words are spoken through your eyes and with the love you have for her, she understood every single word. This is the universal language of the universe which everyone understood because everyone has loved someone something in their life and that makes them to understand the soul of the world of which they are made of and where they will return.

That’s what I felt after reading The AlChemist, speechless, stupefied, petrified, mortified. It’s not the first time I’ve read this master piece of art and it definitely won’t be the last. Some may be waiting desperately to know what the treasure was that Santiago was searching but all I can say is, it’s never about the destination, it’s always about the journey. That’s what I’ve read, that’s what I’ve observed, that’s what I’ve learned and that’s what I’ve experienced.

Books reviews like The AlChemist can never ever be explained or summarized in few hundred or thousand words. All we can do while being on the journey with Paulo Coelho is feel every single word. Every single word was like an explosion on my heart freeing myself from myself. It, itself is a Philosopher’s stone and Elixir of Life.

I believe that no matter what I write, I still can’t write enough. I wanted this review to be just perfect like this book but it can’t be. They say nothing is perfect, and nothing is AlChemist. That’s the beauty of AlChemist. Simple, You don’t need words to explain.

All I want to say in the end that, I read it somewhere, “If you don’t understand what Paulo Coelho was talking about, its alright. It’s not your fault. One cannot miss something they never had. One can never love something they never felt for. One can most definitely not understand something they don’t have any experience of.”