Beyond being physical

Raining.

Heavenly music.

I’ve gradualy left my physical existence and transcended beyond the material world.

I cannot smell anymore, cannot hear, cannot see, cannot touch, for I have left my body. It feels dizzy up here. Everything feels cloudy. The clarity of reality is gone. But I still love it.

I can feel pure and free joy, needing none of your serotonin.

Oh! I feel you’re somewhere around too.

I know because I suddenly remember what brought me here. It was you. Alas! I now wish I could see and touch once again.

Someone please turn off the music and bring me back. Bring me back from this unreal trip.

Why? Why doesn’t somebody do that?

Just that little off button and I’d be back.

Back to you.

Wait! Stop! Don’t yet.

Oh my! It’s you. I can see you now. Up here… not physically though. But better.

I can hear you better.

I can feel you better.

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Blunt Gloom

The Dejected Quill - by ezuhaib

Blunt Gloom. Distress. Failures. Life cannot get worse.

Life will end anyway, so why do we crave for harmony? Why do we wish to built a perfect sandcastle at the beach when we know a devastating tsunami will be arriving just a few minutes from now? Maybe because it’s the only chance we have and we wish this one-time transit to be good. Good for what? Reason cannot answer.

Suicide appears at times to be rationally correct, as the perfect revenge against irrational survival instincts mother nature dripped into our heads.

Except when I think of someone I love, someone who loves me. Her existence forces me to revert to the survival instincts and accept the bodily prison my soul is made to live in.

I have to live.

Plan Z

I’ll be moving to earth in two days, or so they say. Life is a good thing, a one-time opportunity, I’m being convinced for the last couple of weeks. “You’re not ready for it yet”, they say every time they postpone my transit to earth. “Your questions.” is what they say have to die before I’ve to live. This time, I’d be moving for sure, for I heard the fairies gossiping about some “Plan Z”, something they probably try upon the most difficult of souls, something that always works they say.

Hi, I am Mary. Nice to meet you.

Hey. You’re beautiful. Never seen you before.

Beauty is nothing but order within chaos. It’s everywhere, you just have to look around.

I cannot. In all chaos, all order and all existence, I see deep nothingness.

What about me?

What about you?

You see nothingness in me?

Of course. But, oh wait! Umph… you should exist.

Why so?

I don’t think I can answer that. Oh wait, I’m hating myself for saying this. This is what the other fairies keep telling me when I ask them for meaning. Umm….

Yes, you cannot answer that. But about that question of meaning, how about asking it from me? I’m not like the other fairies.

What is this mark below your lips?

O soul! That’s a mole.

Why is it there?

Randomly. Why?

Randomly? No. It really makes a difference. You look so beautiful with it. Mary, this randomness is beautiful. This chaos within order within chaos is appealing. Aren’t you wrong when you attribute beauty to mere order.

Hahahaa…. Wow. I’m impressed to see a soul in-the-making intellectualize like this. The fairies were right about you. You are difficult.

So have we reached the “your question is unanswerable” dead-end already?

I told you I’ll never say that.

Then quench my thirst for meaning. Hey, wait, there’s another of this mole thing a little above your lip on the other side. You’re lovely.

Aren’t fairies meant to be that? Lovely?

They are? No. Not at all. It’s only you.

Because I have moles around my lips?

No, I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m enjoying being with you.

Oh Soul! If life is like these few moments we’ve been together, is there any possibility we may stop looking for meaning.

Yes. But…

There the fairy took my hands in her warm ones and placed her lips over mine. It felt like nothing else I had felt before. It felt like something that couldn’t be put into words, just like life itself. I had immediately begun to realize the existence of concepts impossible to put in words.

Mary, you answered me. You’re the meaning of life. Yes, It’s you.

Oh Soul! Why tears?

Could I beg God for you? Could he let you travel with me to earth? I’ll do whatever he wills in exchange, I’ll stop asking for meanings anymore.

Soul, let me tell you something this bright night. Do you think we, the fairies, have answers to these questions souls like you keep bugging us with? Do you think the peace you see over our faces is real?

Oh!

Soul, today that I’ve myself found meaning, why would I let it leave me. I’ll go with you.

We will go.

Kill the flight, own your child

Dad can I fly?

No.

Why dad?

Because man cannot fly.

But I can.  See? (demonstrating a short flight from his chair to the ceiling)

(surprised) No.

Why not?

It is dangerous.

But Dad I’ll take care of the dangers, don’t you think I should fight them and not be afraid of them?

No. Since I love you, you are more important to me than your wild ambitions.

But Dad, I’ll be safe, I promise.

While you’re on your flight, who will take care of your life? Who will go to the job and earn bread? Who will take care of your wife, your family, once you’re married?

Dad. I’ll manage.

You cannot. I’m your Dad. I know your limitations better than you.

But Dad, didn’t you say I cannot fly and I flew right in front of your eyes. Maybe I can do more than what you think Dad.

Don’t argue. I know life more than you. You’ll know one day that I was right. You cannot understand yet.

But…

Go to sleep or you’ll be sleepy at school. Goodnight.

The child wasn’t particularly obedient, but he’d never risk losing his family’s love for his dreams. He never thought of flying anymore, and in fact forgot that he had this supernatural ability to fly without wings.

… all in the name of love, or what he perceived to be love, or what his Dad claimed to be love.

Love vs The Absurd

“I loved you”, Sara said as she closed her car door and raced away.

All of a sudden there was nothing to do anymore. No one to live a life for. No one to think of. No one to bear the troubles of life for.

I loved her too. I had made lots of mistakes, yet had never stopped loving her. She was lovely and she loved me too. But there was probably much more completing the equation of our relationship than mere love and faith. Only that we always failed to find out.

I was at Lahore Mall Road outside the café where we had just taken breakfast. My eyes were following Sara’s car fading into the distance. The car disappeared . I continued seeing it with the other eye. I was too addicted of her sight. My mind wouldn’t let her go.After having stood there for ten minutes, I moved back into my car, turned on the AC and turned off the music that started playing as I ignited the engine.

Nobody was looking. Tears rolled out. So opportunistic of them. I couldn’t think. De-realizaton was seeping into my sentience. Oh! Derealization! I loved it. It detached me from my synthetic vision of the world and flied me to heights from where people looked like grains of sand. It was amazing. They were all the same from there, sharing similar fears, desires and instincts. I could not appreciate gender, race or destiny from those heights. All I could see was movement. Random movement. As random as the atoms shooting haphazardly in air. The movement gets those atoms nothing, yet gives the gas all it’s traits. Same goes with man, I thought. All the randomness of our activities sums up to a major change in our collective existence but carries little meaning on it’s own.

“I’m sorry”, said someone. Oh! It was her outside my car. But I was too too high at that time to respond. My gaze was fixed over a nearby tree. Nothing, not even her, could break my flight into the Absurd. Apparently.

“Are you listening?”, she repeated in a neutral tone. Of course I was listening. Not me, exactly. It was my somatic half which I couldn’t take with me into my flight. That somatic half, rotated it’s head and looked at her and there… In a snap I was back on earth. Sara was so beautiful, seeing her was the only thing that could break my mind trips. She was the only thing on earth that had meanings in my vast meaningless desert of life. I didn’t know what meanings. Meanings that were beyond rational comprehension. Meanings that defied reason.

I got out of my car and, forgetting where I was, placed my lips over hers. It was time for another flight out of the physical world.

uss ke takhayul ka raag

This is  so “special” that I wrote it in Urdu, a language that delivers straight from my heart.

har taraf shor hi shor hai, log bol rahay hain, waqt chal raha hai. ham falsafay ke jhartay drakht se girtay patay samet rahay hain. yun nahein ke sukoon nahein hai, ya kam hai. shesh jehat sukoon hi to hai. aisa sukoon, aur itna sukoon, ke zehmat bannay laga hai, dard denay laga hai. aur wo, joh qatra qatra mera maqsad-e-hayat ho chuki hai, meray paas to hai nahi, iss purtakaluf sukoon ko uss ke takhayul hi ka raag nachata rahta hai.

main to ussay janta bhi nahi. wo hai zuroor, mai ne uffaq kinaray ussay mehsoos kya hai. par wo aati hi nahi. wo darti to nahi? wo kyun darti hai? main ussay kaisay bataon mein to uss ko sirf sunna chahta hun, uss se kehna chahta hun. uss ke saath beth ke inn taareek aansuon mein ulajhna chahta hun. daastan-e-safar ke qissay cherna chahta hun. sadyon ke chupay raaz uss kay fahem mein sajana chahta hun.

ussay choo liya to main rakh ho jaon.

main to sirf uss ke wajood ki parchayi mei sona chahta hun.

Paradoxical love

I wrote this back in December last year. Much has changed after that but it stands to be allegorically as valid today as it was at that time.

Its nippy. Winter has just set in.  The new moon is shining murkily, high up on a starry sky. It’s the new Hijri year moon. As Talha ambles back and forth on a dark rooftop and gets dissolved into his inner self while fixing his gaze at the Ursa Major, hundreds of miles away Ayesha sitting in her room’s window meditates while sighting the same constellation.

Talha is expecting a year full of success. As he treads the withered winter leaves, his thoughts undergo rapid transitions. Over the years, he has learned getting the most out of these mind trips. Ayesha is thinking no different. But hidden within these similarities are  a host of differences which makes them entirely different two’s. Talha is a modern man. He wants to see the Muslim world innovate in everything less the perpetual laws of Islam (The Shariah). As a result he has uncoupled culture and tradition from religion itself and has distanced himself from the former. He has a Blackberry in his pocket, a Sony Vaio in his brief case, a Land Cruiser Prado in his garage and a comprehensive presence over the internet.  In Ayesha’s world, on the other hand, everything is upside down. She looks at luxury and revelry as sin.  According to her, the highest conceivable standard of life is that what the Quran narrates of Momineen and for that reason she plans to cling to the orthodox Islam without being adventurous and innovative . Talha puts faith in Reason and rational thinking whereas Ayesha is a headstrong adherent of Ishq. Both of them are unaware that their lives are going to connect in the coming years, despite the extreme philosophical discordance.

But then… Talha gets back into his centrally heated apartment and heads straight to his miniature praying room. He switches on the spot light which dimly lightens the prayer mat in such a way that the visual distractions are blacked out. Ayesha stands up and after shutting the window and moving the curtains turns on the lights which she had switched off to avoid being seen from outside. And then, both of them are ready to spend the next hour praying tahajjud.

And so despite having different paradigms for life, the differences slowly fade away with the actions originating from these paradigms. In the end , there is no one who acts like Talha more than Ayesha in the whole wild world, and vice versa. Their convictions are two. The conclusions are one.