We the Living

Andrei Taganov died. He pulled the trigger at 6.30 in the morning and I cried at his death.

I could see his death coming as he had ensured the safety of Leo and Kira. The calm of decision landed on his face and a smile so serene that I fell in love with him again. He was in love and his smile was the monument of it.

However. Deep in my heart an anguish burnt. I could not understand a simple fact that people who live by the very ideals they believe in – why do they have to die. Why does the immoral world, without any standards and dreams get to kill people who matter? A death that is proclaimed as a heroic act but somewhere it’s a heinous crime in the hands of humanity.

This death was not a sin committed by Andrei by the people who brought him to his knees. People who take joy in breaking people down to their very shreds and then move on to break another. Until when should I lay low and see them kill every one of my kins. My kins in thoughts and soul.

Should I wait for the killers to come to my door some day with a smile on their face and knife hidden under their shirts? A knife that I will never see coming. It will be well veiled under the sweet words of concern and understanding they show. I will break or will I not?

I would like to believe that I am unbreakable. Vulnerable, but unbreakable. Andrei died because he could not fight for his love and beliefs. I can. I will be living for my cause, win each of my fights and move on. I will carry Andrei forward with Kira and Leo.

PS: Andrei Taganov is a character from We the Living by Ayn Rand

Time & Life

At the mercy of time

I spent my days running

Dictated by a watch’s hand

Wishing for a poet’s day

I get older by the minute

Hoping for hopes of after years

Losing the life in my hand

I live on handouts of time

A life that by no means is mine

Second-hand me in first hand time

Pic Courtesy: Awais Kazi

Simply Simple

When our knives were blunt

And no one stabbed in the backs

When hearts were sweeter

And no one had that mouth

When pinkies were promises

And not meant to be broken

When fingers were to hold on

And not to showcase

When hearts were blessed

And no one stole my joys

Come back my life that was simply simple

And no knives were so sharp

इंसां का ख़ुदा

कितना कमज़ोर  है इंसां का ख़ुदा
की किसी क़ाफ़िर के हँसने से उसका सीना छलनी हुआ जाता है
कितना कमज़ोर है इस इंसां का इमां
की किसी के मज़ाक से यूँ डगमगा सा जाता है
किस ख़ुदा की इबादत वो करते है
जो महज़ इंसां  के बनाने से ख़ुदा हुआ जाता है















Kindly do not translate and read. The entire meaning is changed.
Image clicked by: Richa Vani

Why does misery of other people make us happy?

Alok Rodinhood Kejriwal Facebooked today this “Why does misery of other people make us happy?” and this is my take on the same question. I fail to answer it but I don’t crave happiness – it comes naturally (sometimes due to reasons and rest of the times without them).

Now, isn’t happiness the natural state of human beings. We are born with a basic understanding of love and all other form of emotions comes by with experience. So, why it is that happiness finds it difficult to come by us when we grow up? The momentary joy of being able to say “I told you so” or “You deserved it” is more fun than actually helping them face the problem. What has made us degrade from that blissful state into the sordid one? Why does inflicting pain, directly or indirectly bring that fleeting feeling of festivity to our heart?

We seek happiness in material things or a cigarette smoked or a drink had, but we forget the conversation we had over the drink or that smoke. We just remember that bad hangover after one too many drinks. We take pleasure in sharing our tales of sorrow to all, even when we know no one is really interested in listening to it.

We seek happiness in what makes others miserable. We enjoy from the fact that someone is unhappy either because of us or due to something that we didn’t do, which might have helped that person through. Somehow we have forgotten the natural instinct of loving people and being in a state of sheer happiness, without being sadist about it.

Perhaps we have forgotten that joy is best when it is shared with people you love and sorrows sort of mellow down in company. Loneliness never enhances happiness and never allows distress to get out of your life. As a rule we are bound to be with people, but our current lifestyle has made us impervious to any feelings of joy and has increased the craving. Maybe that is why we enjoy scorn, sarcasm and sadism instead of love, happiness and laughter.

Loss

Is it due to the loss of someone we love that we cry or is it that we feel pity on the hurtful situation?  Is it the pain that hurts or the mere loss? Despite the crisis or the pain, I don’t cry generally. It’s only when I’m with someone who I love or in front of whom I’m not scared to bare my heart, I cry. People say crying makes it easier to bear the pain, but even the deepest sense of loss can’t make me cry till I am with someone who touches those chords.

The lost soul is forever gone - either never to come back or never to get that place back in my life and heart. So, definitely there is a loss - a vacant space created in my soul due to your absence, but who do I go and explain. I cry with you or in front of you because you give me the respite none else does. But do you fulfill the loss - no you don’t. You seem to enhance the depth of gorge to an unfathomable extent. I panic. To cry or not to cry is the question now. I am at loss of the loss and the panic instilled by your presence

You will think I am confused, but I am not. Scared - yes I am, at the loss I already have and the loss that your presence instills. So, you double the loss and now I cry for both. You ask me what is it that I cry for and here the words confuse me – to an extent of creating inability in being coherent.

I cry – I still am not coherent – I cry – the loss is still unfathomable – I cry – the pain is still there – I cry – I still am scared.

The loss of you, the loss of your current presence and the loss of expressions – still hurt. I know its fresh but usually numbness never finds me. The pain never ceases. So, I cry for the loss – forever – but never with you.

Cliché

Thoughts that cross my mind have been told across a zillion times and the come across as clichés or dialogues. But has anyone thought that they might be my real feelings. It might just be that I am going through that block where there is nothing new for to think or write and this phase will pass. The ray of sunlight will peep through the grey clouds and I will smile again as if I had never known any sorrows, until then I wait and search for my smile. It is just a traffic jam not a dead end. Even if, it would have been a dead end I will find my way off and carve my road. Till then I wait for the traffic to clear. I don’t wait for anyone to find me happiness or grant me permission to seek my smile. I know how to find my star. The sole guiding star of mu soul is hidden behind the clouds and the clouds will go. I just have to make a strong wind and all the grays will fly off giving way to my soul star. Till then I wait and work on my way through.