Pages

Sunday, October 24, 2010

"Tu ne ata kia, mainay bhula dia 
Tu ne phir se dia, na shukar kia
Tu ne aur dia, deta hi gaya
Muun mor diay daryaon ke
Mainay hawa mein urna seekh lia 
Meri agli nazar sitaron per
Phir bhi main tere sahaaron per

Main zaat paat mein, oonch neech mein, aur firqon mein bata hua
Jo sachai ko dhundlaa day, dil aisi gard se ata hua
Shikwa nahin jism ki mitti se, per rooh bhi ab betaab nahin
Tere hukm pe chalna aik taraf, tera naam bhi lena yaad nahin... " 

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Blasphemy

As a Muslim, I condemn the Facebook page asking everyone to draw caricatures of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) as a reaction to censorship of a South Park episode. There can be no justification for such an outrageous act designed to offend millions of people around the world. I also condemn other such pages scattered across the internet that are not on Facebook, but are extremely offensive to Muslims. But I do not support the "Boycott Facebook" campaign.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Bad Dream

In the midst of a maddening crowd, there were prayers that remained unanswered and questions that needed to be asked. A nation searching for direction, a country born in the name of God needed divine intervention before the false prophets of destruction took over completely. The common folk here exhibited every characteristic of nations destroyed in the past. The Devil himself smiled proudly at this collection of hedonistic liars he had manufactured. It was a job well done, for there were looters and murderers leading this pack, a confused mob that took pride in dancing at its own misfortunes and in laughing at its own weaknesses for the world to see. Never did its founders' ideals appeal to this nation, but only discrimination seemed to be the order of the day. This rusting machine composed of four parts was only so much useful when none of its units ever tried to work together to make it go.

Hopeful yet soulless eyes searched the smog ridden skies and cried out for mercy. Even the clouds had betrayed them now and the angels from '65 were nowhere to be found. Only then when they thought it was too late did the Maulanas and Allamas finally gather in the same place and started preparing a mass grave, on the tombstone of which they etched: God left this place a long time ago.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

Half Hearted Goodbye

I have run out of words. My advice works for my friends, not me. I have run out of hope, and yet I have grown bigger than my fears. Life was never this simple. I had never thought that one day I would have to obey the clock. I was never this organized. But I have run out of patience when I needed it the most and it's time to move on. I'm outgrowing others but maybe not growing up. In a slight state of paranoia, I choose to go with the flow, parting ways with others in this stream, unable to keep up... I have run out of steam. Good things happen to me when I least expect them to. But I know how bad things happen when you try to keep everyone happy. You just can't... I have run out of sympathy. I fail to comprehend the ease with which people screw up and then point fingers. I have run out of mercy. As a child I was taught that there is nothing more important than telling the simple, plain truth. Morals and ethics are paramount everyday with everything we say. So as for all the times I said something with tears in my eyes, I truly meant it. And its the same even today, right now. But I have run out of tears. Looks like its that time of the year again when I publish my mind on blogspot.com and let everyone know that I think about these small issues in life. And I know everyone does. But to be like everyone has never appealed to me. In fact, the mere thought of it is repulsive. I don't even want to put myself in others' shoes anymore. I have run out of empathy. And yet I know that I'm the collection of everyone I've ever met. Some ordinary, some special people. I remember some ordinary ones, and all the special ones. I don't "love" anyone though. I've had my fair share and it's been a wild ride, like a roller coaster on a bumpy track, I can't handle it anymore. The concept doesn't suit me. I have run out of love. And with a quick glance at the cruel clock, I believe I have run out of time.