Recollection of my childhood

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Why am I so silent? What do you expect from me, it’s a very difficult question that you’ve asked. What’s so special about this question is that it is a very simple question with a complicated answer. To you it may be a very delightful question. But to me, it takes me to a deep nostalgia. Like other people to whom you’ve asked this question and I’m sure that you’ve already been fed with such and such happy memories like their first bicycle, their first visit to a zoo, their memorable birthday celebration, the first gift they received, the first time they kissed, the first thing they cooked, and so on, this kind of list is never ending.
But it’s a very peculiar thing for me. It’s not something concrete thing that I remember from my past, or something that I could show you, a souvenir from the past, rather it’s something abstract, something that I felt, something strange, but exquisite. If you ask me about the best thing that ever happened to me in my childhood or the finest memory from the album of my childhood, I cannot recall anything other than the rain. Yes, the rain. I don’t know what is so special about the rain or why do I remember it or call it as my best childhood memory.
The best thing about rain is that you get wet. Your body, your clothes, your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your tears. I used to feel very excited when I saw black clouds hovering above my home. I used to climb to the roof and just stared at it and felt how strong the current of the wind was. I saw birds flying against the current of the wind only to be thrown backwards, and the birds kept on diving again into the wind, to break its code somehow. It seemed to me some sort of game that they invented to try their luck against something greater than their existence, a foreign hand that test their limits. Shaheen Falcon always deeply moved me, because it is the only one who deciphered the code and fly into the storm, cleave its way through it to fly higher than the clouds, into the world of its own.
The clouds grumbling sound, as though the soldiers are walking to the battlefield with their thudding footsteps, and the scattered dust rising from the ground and as soon the battle begins with lightening roar beating louder than my heart, the blood falls from the sky to my face. At night, I used to stare at the infinite sky that gave a purplish maroon look, the whole sky holding the blood in its breast. The calm just before the huge thunderstorm always deeply moved me.
When the water drops settled the dust and made the whole ground wet. The settled dust made the horizon clearer and most exquisite. The rain washed away all the dust form the eyes and I felt like I was watching everything for the first time. As the agitated dust settled, an aroma arose from the mother earth. As I smell the rain, it smelled as though the ashes of the past life have born again from the ashes of the ashes.
The tiny droplets of rain seemed to be thirsty for human warm touch. This was the whole purpose of rain to find comfort. It wasn’t a blessing but she, herself was being blessed when humans’ touch her, praise her, love her. But everyone was hiding and looking for shelter. They all were so self-obsessed and self-centered that they walked their stony footsteps all over her, crushing her beneath their trotting shoes.
I woke up with a start. I thought I heard someone crying that woke me up. I touched my pillow and then my face, they felt dry, then I walked up to the window and realized that it was the rain, always the rain.
I saw this whole drama from the window of my room. As the droplets hit my window, their whispering cries pained me, and gave me pleasure. The whispers, when hit the window, were so soothing. It was way better than my father telling me fairy talks because these weren’t tales, it was like fairies were knocking at my window. I touched the window and I could feel the rhythm with which they talked, the beat of each drop, and the coldness of each crashing story. As I pressed my thumb on the cold window, my thumb became wet even though the veil of window was between us. It felt strange but not miraculous because I wasn’t yet accustomed to the laws of nature and anything was possible. Without even realizing that I was holding my breath.
I opened the window and stepped outside. The moon was hiding behind the terror of the massive phoenix riding on the thunderstorm of my breath. Silently walked on the rooftop with each drop of eternity falling on my body, whispering love songs, and making love to me. The wind was savoring every moment and was rushing through my clothes.
I breathed everything so deeply. As I let go, I let go of myself, my whole self, my past, my identity, my soul. my spirit, and I became what I never thought or expected to be. I became a part of the rain, no longer an I, out of the chains of time and space, a drop.

The Last Breath

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Last night after you left, Cigarette burned till the last breath

 

As fog fell over the Kashmir valley on that late night, she couldn’t help but notice that there was something more, something that is hiding behind the greyish fog. It was yet another night when she woke up with a nervous attack, her body sweating, her heart beating louder than the silence of the moonless night. Wolf howling in the forest near her house on the mouth of the fifth mountain of Shaarda, her hometown.

Her side table digital clock showed 3:02 am. There’s something strange with this time, she thought. She knew it was a curse that’s been following her ever since she has indulged herself in the Parkinson’s family murder case. The case was beyond the point to be solved. Nobody knew how a single child of eleven years, murdered the whole family and then himself. The thought of little William holding an axe in his left-hand haunts her. This case has suck all the marrow of happiness out of her life.

She got out of the bed and leafed through her side drawer searching for the only thing that has been her companion for this time of the night, that knows everything about this case, and her life, too. Her companion is ever so fluent in silence. She found her companion and moved to the window of her 1 room apartment.

The room was dark, she didn’t even bother turning on the light. She actually felt religious with all the lights off. She started liking all the demonic depressed vibe around her room. It makes her feel more at ease. But with the bright room, the demons always rush out of the room through the only window of her apartment. She bumped into the table and spilled her coffee but she walked all over it without wiping the drops of river from the carpet.

She saw her reflection scorning her through the window as she opened it. The smell of her room with the fog outside mixed up and gave her chills down the spine. Whenever she looked out of her window, she always got lost somewhere in those little houses along the Neelum river. She pulled out her companion of silence and lit it up. Watching the whole valley wake up gives her one of the greatest pleasures. How fast it goes into the dust just like the smoke of her cigarette.

She never knew what a single cigarette was capable of after she tried it. She always assumed a peculiar relation of a cigarette and her thoughts. As soon as she lit it up, she entered into another world of her thoughts, that she never knew existed, or they only exist when she light a cigarette and as soon as it becomes dust so does her world of thoughts. As she watched the smoke rising from her cigarette and after a moment becoming a part of the past, she wondered man is not that different form this cigarette which she’s holding in her hand, entwined within her fingers. Cigarette, after fulfilling its purpose has the same fate as man.

She can never take her eyes off the cigarette exhaling a golden greyish cloudy smoke. As sometime you see mystic clouds surrounding the sun and it creates a dome of dreamy light all over the earth. What she really saw in the smoke were words, beauty, poetry, love and life, the life breathing smoke. She put the death tight against her dry lips, knowing it won’t last long. The smoke rose in spiral layers, diffusing into the infinity. She could forget everything if she could just sleep. Everyone slept but her.

As she sucked hard, the heart-beat start to rise, she saw ecstatic layers of smoke, ever so excited for reuniting with their creator and finally leaving these rusted fingers, in the cage of her hands, just using it for pleasure and forgetfulness. As it breath its last, she wondered when it will be back to her lips, to torture her once again. It fell to the dusty ground and buried deep into its darkness. It had the answer of its death. And as she fell she realized, that is all a man’s worth; the dustless, filthy, lifeless smoke.

 

 

When I fall asleep

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When I fall asleep,
I dream of you.
I dream of your face,
how it shines when light falls on it.
I dream of your eyes,
how they play with my words.
I dream of your cheeks,
how the eyelash dimples on it.
I dream of your lips,
as my fingers wipes wetness from them,
how I drag your body against me,
how I hold you from your waist,
how you bite the corner of your lower lip,
how you invite me to kiss those lips,
how thirsty you seem,
how I play with you,
how I tempt your anticipation,
how you die for that moment,
When I finally lean in,
to kiss those desperate lips.
Maybe when I fall asleep,
I don’t really sleep…


 

In the Dark

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If it wasn’t real
Then why does it hurt so bad
It feels like all the pieces of glass
In my body
Everywhere
Everywhere travelling inside my body
Like my blood
With my blood
They are my blood
This, and all the pain I feel
Or hear in this world
Everywhere
It’s all so noisy
It’s all so real and fake
Its everywhere
All this pain is a bridge
Between reality and dream
An Ecstasy
A new world
Where there is darkness
Everywhere.

I am running,
In the dark
And so were you
And we found each other
In the dark
It felt like I knew you
And you knew me
That we were already connected
From the past lives
That we were a single soul
A one soul
A whole soul
And somehow
Somewhere
We were disconnected
We felt a vague inside our body
throughout our lives
That shallow deep space
Consistently torturing us
Killing us
Until we met each other
and filled that hole
In the dark

I’m Sorry

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I love you, and
I’m not sorry for that.
I’m sorry that your feelings are hurt,
I’m sorry that I broke your trust,
I’m sorry that my promises were null,
I’m sorry for all those tears that rolled down your warm dimpled cheeks,
I’m sorry that you’re lonely in amidst a crowded room,
I’m sorry that you had to walk this road alone,
I’m sorry that death set us apart,
I know that you’ll never be mine,
I know that we’ll never be together,

and this time I was the victim of the fate,
I’m sorry that this distance cannot be lessened,
I’m sorry for everything that I should be sorry for. But
I was born to love you, and you alone,
in this world, and the world hereafter; and
I’m not sorry
that I fall in love with you..

A walk on the sea

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Sometimes I feel like a boy who is the lone survivor of a wrecked shop, drifting in a life-boat with nothing to survive other than his own thoughts. All the wrecked ship just drowned, like the sea swallowed the whole ship into its deep mouth, and there’s not a single clue of it left on the sea.
   I’m on a rudderless life-boat. I have no direction of home. I have nothing to hold on to. I can see only blue veil of death surrounding me as far as my eyes reflect. But in all the death surrounding me, I have hope. I have so much of it that I’m burning so brightly with this hope that no destruction could extinguish this flame of hope burning inside me.
   I travelled day and night, believing that these tides will lead me somewhere, somewhere unknown but somewhere safe, somewhere away from this version of  reality, far away from this earth, the world which is always noisy with all the suffering of this world, all this consistent pain torturing each other from materialistic and impermanent possession of this world. These tides will take me far away from any version of reality. This reality used to be like a drop of water consistently falling on the same point on my forehead, from the high ceiling always bringing me back to the reality, never drifting me back to my own world.
   Now these tides are my guide to a utopian world. I found a compass on the boat but even before I could look at it and study my way to home, I threw it away. I was tired of being on the road, long empty road, lonely as a sparrow on the road, always finding something, when all along the road, it was with me all this time.
   First time in my life, I’ve found complete happiness that has brought me to peace. The kind of peace you’ll find on the face of a homeless man sleeping on the side of the road. This place is so serene. It’s like a stroll in my own world, my own garden, every plant planted with my own hands, watered them with my sweat, that gave the sweet smell of hard work, surrounded with ancient trees with autumn leaves that will never fall from the branches and will transform into new leaves and the shadow of these fruitful trees follows me everywhere, keeping me alive.
    But I believe with all my heart that in the end, when our reasoning and efforts cease to exist, we will all have to surrender and trust, without any doubt. Just like I left my fate to these tides, submitting and trusting in the same hand, that has written each of our destiny, that has created everything on the earth and sky and everything that exists in between, that same hand that guides us all.

Are we there again?

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Why do we always end up,
the same road,
which we knew has a dead end?
Why do we make promises,
to each other over and over,
which we knew are empty?
Why do we still talk to each other,
even after all this time,
when we don’t want to?
Why do we remind each other,
of our pasts,
when those memories don’t mean anymore?
Why don’t we just stop seeing each other, altogether,
and never talk to each other again?
Why don’t we just wake up,
thinking all of it was just a dream?
Why is it so hard to forget each other,
when everything between us was just an illusion?

Why does your heart still beat for me,
while in the arms of my friend,
under the shadow of that lamppost,
where I fell in love with you.
You thought nobody saw it,
but I saw it,
I saw everything.
I saw myself walking home,
empty tears in hand,
losing two closest people that night,
The night knows it,
and maybe,
just maybe,
You know that too

What do you expect from me?
What do you want from me?
Do you want me to accept you again?
Do you want me to forget all those sleepless nights?
Do you want me to open all those scars you gave me?
Do you want me to act like nothing happened?
Like you never broke my heart?
Like you never shattered my trust?
Like you never bade me goodbye?
The love between us has long been faded
The memories between us has long been forgotten
The thirst for your love has long been banished.

So here we are again,
lying beside each other,
You dreaming soundly,
and I,
thinking the same thing,
Are we there again?