The Light No Longer Shines

Congratulations earthlings! Rejoice and celebrate for the system won again. The system successfully consumed the naïve notions and innocent sincerity. Bravo! You did it again as you have been doing it without fail since the beginning of time. Snatching away dreams and leaving behind hopeless souls dwelling the earth in despair is what you are expert in. Be merry, your mission has been accomplished yet again.

The Light no longer shines.

What have you done, you ask? Nothing that is punishable in any court of the whole wide world. But you are worse than a criminal. You are a killer of dreams and hopes and feelings and passion and love. Nothing to complain about you say? Our own choice you say? Yeah. As if a person who’s held under gunpoint has a choice. There’s no pressure on us, you say? Hah yeah, right! Creating a black hole and then expecting that there’s no pressure is evident enough of your brutal ignorance. You soft but consistent and emotional pushes urge and insist that the decisions made always be in accordance with your orthodox conventions. Enjoy the sweet taste of victory served upon corpses of wishes and fantasies.

The Light no longer shines.

The end of the world will witness the breed of slaves; dead-cold robotic slaves that know only how to bow and to serve and be ruled upon. For we, the dreamers-the fanatics will be made to perish and engulfed by the blind tyranny of the System.

The Light no longer shines.

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A Piece of Me

She’s the kind of girl who’s not always at her best. She’s not always ladylike or elaborate in manners. On her worst days she loves to roam around the house with uncombed hair tied up in a messy bun for undefined period of time. She doesn’t bother putting on matching pairs of trousers and shirts and sometimes not even the slippers, oblivious of her feet getting dirty or her heels getting rough. She’s the kind who would immerse herself in her own world of seasons and music and movies and words and imagination. This doesn’t mean seclusion or isolation from the rest of the world; it means taking refuge in a dream world of her own. The Utopia where anything and everything is possible, where people are more understanding or maybe where there are no people at all! She’s the kind who gets high not on drugs but on the intoxication of her thoughts and dreams.

But that doesn’t surface in front of you. You see her as complete and beautiful, flawless and elegant. She’s composed and smooth; she doesn’t let the storm inside her ripple out in front of you and you think all is well.

A Man’s World

They say time heals everything. I say it doesn’t; it teaches you to become used to the wounds you got by the harsh blows of time. The bruises no longer pinch or hurt; they turn into scars buried deep inside your skin and you get accustomed to their presence.

They say for every successful relationship, compromise is the key element; I say set fire to compromise if you have to do that on the cost of your self-respect. It is easy to confuse self-respect with Ego; the latter consumes a good relationship like wild fire but you should conserve the former as a favour to your own self.

They say women’s job is to keep their men satisfied and children fed. I say, neigh, I ask who’s responsible for doing the same for the women? And apart from providing for our food, shelter and clothing, whose duty is it to cater to emotional and psychological needs? Why does it kill you to think women of being independent and career-oriented? We are tabooed as selfish and arrogant for thinking solely about ourselves if we go down a professional path whilst also taking care of familial lives.

They say women are brave and courageous and patient and tolerant and empathic and calm and composed. I say women are violent and spontaneous and instinctive and volatile and fragile and delicate.

They say women are emotional; I agree. But I ask you, what have you done so far to take care of that? They say it’s a Man’s world, and I agree, for the women of this world bear all the traits attributed to men  and carry out their daily chores like a strong, unyielding, fearless Man.

2017-2018

How times change. Sometimes you are wandering aloof; searching and longing for something, someone- just to reach at that one place in life, merely to feel the feeling attached to them. It seems like being stuck in a desert with harsh, hot winds circling around you throughout. How you desperately long and yearn and crave and wish and desire for them but in vain. There are moments that make you so weak, so frail that all you need is a gaze, a meaningful stare from them. It seems like that reassuring look will bring you back to the bliss of life. Life, at such crossroads, has moved beyond words and depending on merely those eyes.

But as merciless the life itself is, it makes sure it inflicts the same pain on us as well. It turns us into something we could never have even imagined becoming; a heartless, cold monster. Apart from that, life is also fond of having a laugh at our misery. So, it brings us what we previously could have died for; right at our doorstep, within our reach. And the irony is, we have changed. The pain changed us. It claimed from us the things we valued the most and bestowed upon us the evils that never belonged to us. But this is how it is. This is how unfair life is and you are supposed to make through it with a smile pinned to your face.

People all around us are actors; they pose to be something or someone they are not, without realizing that not everyone is an impostor like them. They exploit us in every sense of the word; leaving nothing but lifelong scars and haunting memories. And you are changed, in a way that even you don’t like. From an extrovert you turn into an introvert; crawling back into a shell of yours that you wouldn’t allow anyone to penetrate and ceasing to share anything and everything agonizing you. It’s better to live in a Utopia where everything you want or wish is easily possible, rather than this cruel, bitter world where the creatures walking the earth are nothing but horrible monsters.

Sands of Time

Green is lush and green is pleasure, everybody loves green; the little leaves reassured each other. And no doubt they were right; for green soothes and green pacifies; green calms down and green relaxes the eyes. The leaves were ecstatic to bear that colour of peace and took pride in being that way. It provided them a sense of purity and confidence in themselves; they understood that they were uniquely distinct from the other beings of less purer colours around them. And this feeling gave them contentment and elation.

Life’s not a bed of roses. The harsh winds of life blew and tempered with the only precious possession of the leaves: their colour, their purity. The leaves were no longer that heavenly shade; they attained rusty, muddy tones and became like most of the objects around them. They lost their identity, their uniqueness to the blows of time. Their soft, delicate texture was hardened and replaced by rough, uneven bodies that crunched under the feet of the passers-by. It did not hurt, surprisingly.

Because the physical pain caused by the lack of mindfulness of others was nothing compared to the agony inflicted by the tyranny and brutality of time that had robbed them off their identity, purpose and most importantly, their Pride.

 

Live and Let Live!

When I was a little girl and got to know about the different seasons of the year, I always had this crazy notion in my mind: what if Summer and Winter become one and give rise to a beautiful Spring? The East is known for its rich culture and unique values quite distinct from the West. From where I see it, in some cases, both East and West seem to dwell on the borderline of extremism and I wish they somehow merged to give rise to a life of Spring.

Considering the side of the East where I live, Pakistan is a wonderful country with wonderful people. The talent and potential my people possess is simply marvelous. But these people need to be given more opportunities and chances to explore their true and full capabilities. More than that, we need awareness, a thorough update on our thinking styles and a better knowledge of our own ideologies.

Mixing religion with wrong concepts to facilitate your own petty interests has been something common throughout world’s history. One thing I firmly believe in is that no religion of the world promotes violence, and that no religion thinks women to be lesser beings than men. They are equal on all levels, and those who dare to quote their religion against this stance need to have a better understanding of their own religion. God is love and He promotes love and when He would not discriminate between males and females to spread His love, who are you to do so?

Love is nothing but happiness and elation. Love is freedom and peace of mind. If you think that you are cutting off the wings of the ones you claim to love, then your love does not exist. If you think that empowering your women means that they are going to dominate over you, then you could not be more wrong. If you hold the view that allowing your women to choose for their own careers, following their dreams and passions or even selecting the person they want to spend the rest of their lives with is something abominable and prohibited by the religion, then your thinking is flawed and your judgement clouded by your self-built perceptions. You would feel more of a Man when you get to tell the world that your daughter or sister or wife bent her head to all the decisions you make for her life. Ever consider the fact that she would feel more of a Woman if you stood by her in all the decisions she wanted to make for herself and just needed a little support from you?

The woman is the same, whether it’s East or the West. She may succumb to your wishes and desires by sacrificing her own, but that’s not your victory. Because she let go of her own wishes and they were choked to death by you; that makes you no less than a murderer. I am not here to paint a bleak, sorrowful picture of oppression. I’m here to raise a toast to the independence of choice and liberty to live for women. Let’s be the ones who contribute to make world a better place to live by spreading love, joy and more smiles among the people. Let’s stop traumatizing others with our harsh words and concrete opinions. Let’s let others live as equally, happily and fully as we want to. Let’s, for once, try to understand each other as real persons and not mere objects.

The Cursed Creatures

It’s always your fault. You’re always wrong. You can never justify your actions. Your intentions can never be regarded as pure or good. People are always going to cast a shadow of doubt on you. You have no right to an independent life. You are not entitled to having your own, individual, unique, and beautifully different opinions. Don’t you ever dare to dream of freedom of thought and action in your life. Even your dreams need to be put chains on. Even your imagination ought to be shackled. The talks of modern and innovative notions scare the world around you and make you an outcast, subject to severe criticism. You, your personality and your life are required to be liquid-like; shaping themselves to any narrow, thin, shallow container they are forcefully poured into.

Why?

Because, you my dear, are a GIRL.

It is your fate to be the inferior one, the weaker one and the submissive one. In this world dominated by patriarchy, you are nothing but a mad, lost, unfulfilled dream. And dreams are the creatures of long, cold, gloomy nights; unable to dwell the real, bitter, unfair world of the blazing, scorching days.

Compadre

Naughty.

Mischievous.

Playful.

Expressive.

Without fail, his eyes said it all always. Even when he was angry or disappointed, which was seldom, his eyes gave him away. They held the sparkle of a little boy’s eyes which shine brightly whenever he’s up to something. He smiled with his eyes and this was something that stood out in his personality.

Rough n tough.

Heighted.

Muscular.

Scarred.

His personality held an authority which was also reflected in his deep, hoarse voice. He held an aura of someone who’s had a lifetime of an experience in a brief time. Everything about him was so genuine and realistic. The numerous scars on his body and soul had many untold stories behind them but plainly stated the fact that he had been living his life to the full.

Fearless.

Impulsive.

Persuasive.

Daring.

Passionate.

He was the kind of the guy you see in movies who would pick up a fight for his girl, the hero who had always the right words to win the heart of his lady and who could be a MAN and take a stand for the love of his life. There seemed no obstacle worthy enough to shake his courage and stop him from following his heart towards the endeavours of love.

He was this and much more.

A fantasy.

A dream.

A burning desire.

VERDICT: NOT GUILTY.

The world was awfully quiet, unlike the usual days when it roars and thunders to make its presence known. She did not care; she was immersed in another world of her own. That inner world was like a ship about to meet its end in a raging ocean. The wreck, the misery and the fruitlessness of the efforts are common to all whose ships are sinking. She opened the door to the night outside, the cool breeze brushed off against her cheeks. She took a deep breath and embraced the world outside.

She played many scenarios over and over in her head. Each time she viewed herself critically and each time she found herself to be NOT GUILTY. Some people are pure in every sense of the word; they have a pure heart capable of generating pure love. They are compassionate and good natured; they simply do not find the essence of hating anyone in their lives. No matter what others do to them or torture them through inexplicable ways of cruelty, such naïve people always come up with an excuse to forgive them and to bear their wretched beings. But how can you pass a brutal verdict to a soul who has just known love throughout her life? A heart who knows how to love with all its might, the eyes that keep shining with the light of hope and the lips that are decorated with the smile of optimism can never be defeated no matter what. It is not her fault that your heart is dominated by your brain, that you are so damaged that you do not know how to love or even appreciate love, or that you think that everyone who cares for you or comes near you has an agenda. There are still many beautiful souls in the world who meet others just because they want to and they like to; not merely to fulfill their hidden goals.

As she embraced the world and everything within it, she made sure it saw her in her supreme totality. The storm inside her had calmed down now as she had made peace with her inner being. The ship had fought a tremendous battle but was now on its course again. The world outside was awed, however. It rushed to challenge her; but the verdict had been passed. NOT GUILTY.

Verdict: GUILTY.

Assemble a court. Pick out as many judges as you can. Sound the trumpets, gather the masses. Bring her to judgement. Bombard her with your allegations. She is there. Dazzle all the eyes with your shiny tongue and confound all the ears with your truthful lies. Raise your hands to drink to her health while quietly whispering her to death sentence. She is there. Kill her with your false notions of love and respect and dignity and morals and values and faith. She is there. Like a steadfast rock, she is there.

She is guilty, yes. She is guilty of having the warmth of love in her heart. She is guilty of possessing the magic of hope in her bosom. Faith runs with blood in her veins. Her eyes sparkle with shiny confidence. She is guilty of giving the luxury of trust to everyone. She is guilty of giving it all in every matter, for she does not know any constraints; her feelings and her heart don’t know any boundaries. She is guilty of nurturing false notions of expectations and dreams and happy endings in that little head of hers. She is guilty of believing in magic and miracles and fairytales and love stories. She is guilty of being extraordinary and dramatic and poetic.

She is guilty; such selfless actions must be accounted for. She must be burnt alive. She must be condemned to adopt the veil of the mundane and ordinary. She must be exiled to the fires of the blazing life everyone else cooked up for her. Indeed, that is the most beautifully cruel way of pushing her off the edge, while her body still dwells this earth like a corpse.

All those in favor?

Verdict: Guilty.