Teri Chahat

ایک آپ کی چاہت ہے اللہ جی۔  میری چاہت بنتی ہے تو کونپل، سمٹتی ہے پھر گہرا کنول۔  پھوار پڑتی ہے پھر گویا اوس پڑ جاتی ہے۔  سوکھے کانٹے گرنے لگتے ہیں اللہ جی دل تو گوشت کا ٹکڑا ہے، سہار نہیں پاتا۔  دیکھتے ہی دیکھتے میری چاہت پر سنؔاٹا چھا جاتا ہے جیسے پھول کنویں میں جا پڑا ہو۔  کبھی بعد میں، اتنے بعد میں کہ کنویں کی دیواروں کے کان ترس گئے ہوں، آواز آتی ہے: ’یہ میری چاہت ہے خدایا۔  میری چاہت سن لیجیے لیکن صرف تب۔ ۔ ۔‘ اور یہاں تک آ کر پھر سے پھوار پڑتی ہے۔  یکایک موسلادھار بارش۔  کنویں کی دیواریں گونج اٹھتی ہیں۔  ’صرف تب خدایا جب اس میں تیری چاہت بھی شامل ہو۔‘

Aik Aap ki chahat hai Allah ji. Meri chahat banti hai tou konpal, simat’ti hai phir gehra kanwal. Phuwaar parti hai phir goya ous parr jati hai. Sookhay kaantay girnay lagtay hai Allah ji dil tou gosht ka tukrra hai, sahaar nahi pata. Dekhtay hi dekhtay meri chahat par sannaata chhaa jata hai jesay phool kunwain me ja parra ho. Kabhi baad me, itnay baad me ke kunwain ki deewaron ke kaan taras gaye hun, awaz ati hai: “Ye meri chahat hai Khudaya. Meri chahat sun lejiye lekin sirf tab…” Aur yahan aa kar phir se phuwar parti hai. Yakayak mosla dhaar baarish. Kunwain ki deewarain gonj uthti hain. “Sirf tab ya Khudaya jab is me Teri chahat bhi shamil ho.”

Life not life, More unedited.

mirage. embodiment of a faraway feeling. ethereal. magic. longing. desperation. void in a voice. void in a connection. a connection about slow failure. a connection of ultimate longing. endless, never reaching manzil. a breath taking view but also lungs constricting, tear inducing. sob in the pillow, drink down the scream. so tough. so lonely. so unloving. temporary peace. temporary laughter. temporary butterflies. hand out. reach out. get out.

No edits.

It still means a cold hard blow
cold hard blow on the heart
like someone hammers it into pieces
while looking sideways
you’re so hurt yourself, you say
it was never intentional to reach
here. this
now
is our collective mistake. or something from the universe
if only you could stop right now
if only you could go back in time
one last time back in time one last —
you’d do it again.

You would.

Eight years? Bus?

Oh haaai, happy wordpress-versary to me. It’s been EIGHT WHOLE YEARS OH MY ALLAH!

I mean, that’s a lot. I just saw this notification and felt compelled to write a post. How much I have changed in these years and so has this blog and my relation with it. The PEOPLE, most of all. They were all such stories.

I don’t know, it was different back then of course. My current state is somewhat like my last post. My current hobbies are different than the old ones. Today I talked with a friend and after so long felt so free to speak whatever I had in mind, zero filters. I really needed that. It felt liberating even when I was being so vulnerably weak-ish. It is important, I guess, to have someone listen.

She was very surprised to hear that I don’t read books anymore. I don’t know, it doesn’t feel that bad to me. I’ve accepted it. I can’t.

I wrote a darkish story after a long long while and I’m so glad I did. I had stopped doing that COMPLETELY after two ridiculous comments. That was liberating too.

Today I really wanted to write. I would have, but I lost inspo somewhere in between. But it would have kinda only been an effort to go back to this place in my mind so I’ll just read it and leave you with a link:

♫heart·strings

Yep that’s all. End of weird post. Who still blogs?

Frozen

Aik bohat bara khait hai jahan faslain tezi se jhoom rahi hain. Taiz, taiz hawa me jesay urr rahi hun. Aur zindagi isi dagar pe dourr rahi hai. Yun jo fast motion pictures hoti hain na? Bilkul wesa hai sab, jhapak jhapak me aas paas badaltey badaltay sab aik lagnay lagta hai. Jahan se shuru hua tha nuqta waheen aa kar teherta hai. Aur ye khait, wasee o areez lehlahata jhoomta hawa me urta khait… aik khud se bhi bohat bari baraf ki sil me qaid hai.

Frozen in an ice cube. A gigantic ice cube.

So being frozen within something so huge that is frozen too, doesn’t feel much. Until the ice breaks.

I dread the breaking time.

This place, this time.

Some evenings are so breathtakingly stunning you don’t want them to end. Ever. And as everyone else is packing their stuff back in the car while some are already reserving their seats — so ready to return to their homes — you run back to the sea and the sky and the sand asking for one more infinite minute. That is your home.