I sit. I talk. I breathe. I exist. I look around myself. I see others doing exactly the same. Then I am left to wonder; am I any different from these beings that surround me? Or are we all the product of the same self indulging soulless world we live in? Wearing a tie to work and getting a haircut at a fancy salon do make me feel important and superior, but do they really? I don’t think I should even wait for an answer to that. Cut throat; the world we live in. You have to win or be treaded upon, it’s your choice. Well, more of luck than choice. An army of senseless, brainless and purposeless people dwelling this earth, servants of the formulaic ways. Programmed to kill or be killed. How far we’ve come in our lives, how much we’ve progressed, how easy it is to wipe out a whole city with just one warhead. Fascinating. It would be nothing less than a treat to watch us in our race to the top and our lust for wealth by our stone age ancestors who knew nothing more than sitting, talking, breathing and existing.
I look around myself again. A joke cracked. An uproar of laughter. I don’t find it funny. Infact, I find it far from humorous. I stay sober. I am not them. I am different. Atleast I want to be.
Categorized in Blogroll, anger, life, myslef, personal, random, reality, thoughts and writing
Darkness lives and darkness dies,
Empires torn by untrusted spies,
Lessons learnt by guilty eyes,
Ever lost yet no one tries.
Fear felt yet fear denied,
Coward souls’ win justified,
Jesus never really crucified,
Gut him out take what’s inside.
Brightness dies and brightness lives,
Everyone takes but no one gives,
Enslaved by your own captives,
He punishes yet He forgives.
Categorized in anger, death, fiction, hate, imagination, life, poetry, random and writing
“Where have you been Konshenz? I have been longing for your footsteps for so long”
“I’ve been here my friend, watching you.”
“I need help Konshenz.”
“I know Ayemi. I know.”
“Why do I feel like I’m dying inside when infact I live? Why does it feel like I’m being consumed when infact everyday I’m growing? Why am I so sad inside while outside I’m so happy?”
“Talk to me Ayemi. I will help you.”
Ayemi kept looking at Konshenz longingly.
Categorized in hope, life, myslef, personal, reality, sadness and thoughts
Humans, don’t you just hate them. They think so much of themselves. Like everything they do should be considered of the utmost importance, and worst of all, considered right!
Humans are nothing but selfish, worthless, egoistic and self indulgent animals!
Humans are funny creatures. They long to have something, will work hard for it, and will go to all limits to get what they want, but once they have that particular thing, they don’t want it anymore. They want something else now. Something new. Someone new. For humans the grass is always greener on the other side, all there is on this side are piles of dung. They’re never satisfied with what they have. And try, just try, to take that unwanted thing away from them. See them pounce on you and destroy you for taking something that was so dear from them.
Humans are inhumane. They have no respect for themselves. They will sell their soul to anyone for anything. There is only one thing that makes the world turn; money. Humans will sell other humans for money. Humans will sell themselves for money. Humans will sell humanity for money. Self indulgent. Downright deplorable. They have no faith in faith. Never happy. Never content. Always want more. Always want to give less. They are like a living disease that never goes away, but slowly and steadily is consuming this earth.
I am human.
Categorized in Blogroll, anger, life, men, myslef, personal, random, reality, thoughts and writing
You fear the worst. Then you panic. Your heart starts to race real fast. You beat your arms frantically. You forget all you know. You pull yourself under. You hold your breath. You throw your arms in every direction. You move your legs fast trying to push yourself back up. You manage to hold your breath much shorter than you normally can. Your eyes open wide as you gasp for air, but no air goes inside your lungs. All you taste and breathe in is water. The water fills your lungs. It makes your lungs heavy and drags you down even more. You try to breathe in with your mouth open and all you get is more water. You lose all hope. Blood going to your brain stops. Your vision starts to fade. You cannot think anymore. You stop beating your arms and legs. All you see is black. You stop feeling. Your heart stops. You achieve what you were trying to do; you rise to the surface and start floating. And that is how you fucking drown.
Categorized in Blogroll, death, fiction, imagination, kill, life, men, myslef, personal, random, thoughts and writing
He was everywhere. Everywhere at the same time, for he was a ninja, the invisible ninja. I felt a hard blow to my face from the right. My head was turned away and as soon as I moved towards the right and extended my arms to hit my un-seeable foe I was shook by another blow, this time from the opposite side. This was tougher than I had thought. The village elders were right, the invisible ninja was not an easy match, but I was bent upon proving them wrong.
A few kicks to my stomach left me gasping for air on the floor. Another punch left my nose bleeding. I had to fight blindness with blindness. I stood up, pulled out my sword from its cover, and closed my eyes. I had to concentrate all my senses in one direction. I focused on my hearing and his presence; I held my breath and waiting for the right time, thrust the sword forward with both my hands. I heard a moan and opened my eyes to see blood dripping on the floor from thin air. I pulled my sword out and watched the invisible body fall to the ground as blood started to pool around it.
I had done it. I had defeated the invisible ninja. I looked at my hands, they started to fade away, and so did the rest of my body. The legend was true. He who defeats the invisible ninja, becomes the invisible ninja himself.
Categorized in death, fiction, hate, imagination, kill, myslef, personal, random, story, thoughts and writing
It’s not easy being 75 years old; it’s even worse being 75 and traveling on a plane. But the worst thing is to be 75, traveling on a plane and going to meet one of your best friends who is on his death bed.
It’s not easy to be living away from your homeland for 40 odd years, meeting your dear ones less than a dozen times during this period. Its not easy being in a dilemma, the indecision of heading back to your country once you retire or staying where you’ve now ended up living the major part of your life. It’s not easy when you receive a phone call one night in which you hear a very familiar voice telling you something that instead of you making you full with glee sinks your heart down.
“I cant believe my ears Harris! Is it really you? My God it’s been years since I last heard your voice. How have you been?”
“I’ve been well but I’m afraid I have some bad news, its Jamshed, he’s…he’s really sick. The doctors have given him just a few days the most.”
A long silence. I felt my heart would either stop or jump right out of my chest.
“He’s asked if you can come to visit him. The rest of us are here already; Rizwan, Qureshi, Ehtasham and I. Rehman, please come.” I heard his voice crack towards the end of the sentence and that also brought tears to my own eyes. I told him I would take the next available plane back home. Home, it’s such a relative term.
For the whole flight I had one and only one feeling; nostalgia. I couldn’t remember even a single day when I had not been around my friends when I was back in Pakistan. From kindergarten to high school we were best friends. Shared each other’s joys and sorrows. Jamshed had been there for me more than anyone. He had supported me financially when I was in need to pursue my career abroad. He had taken care of my parents when I was away. He had buried them when they passed away when I could not make it back home. I owed him more than he had done. I owed him my life. I owed the rest of the guys a significant part of my life too.
The image that kept running in my mind was of my friends gathered around Jamshed’s bed as he lay there sick, nearing his end. I felt sad, real sad. I wanted this flight to end as quickly as possible. I wanted to be there with my friends again, tell them how much I had missed them, tell them what a big mistake I had made by moving away, how my life had been so dull without them all.
Random memories ran through my mind the whole plane ride. All six of us running around on each other’s birthday parties when we were really young, playing sports when we got older, hanging out and enjoying late night smokes and chit chats on the streets even after. Those were the days. It’s not easy to keep in touch when you are worlds apart. I tried but it was not easy. Out of sight out of mind; so true.
The plane journey was the longest 30 hours of my life. I landed in Karachi at 5 am in the morning when the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon. I felt sadness in the air as I stepped out of the plane and made my way towards the exit as fast as I could. Now that I was actually back, every delay, every second that took longer in my exit from the airport made my heart break off another piece. I finally made it out the exit and right away recognized Qureshi standing among the crowd with his grown up grand children. I burst into tears, highly unlike me, as soon as I hugged him. The car ride was quiet. Noone spoke a single word. We finally reached Jamshed’s old house, a million more memories attacked my brain as I stared with wide eyes out the windows. I got out of the car as soon as it stopped and was greeted by my three other eager friends and a hundred mixed emotions. But the final straw in my haystack of sadness for the day was when I was told that Jamshed had passed away the previous evening. Rizwan handed me a piece of paper that Jamshed had left for me. I read it with tears running down my cheeks.
“My dear friend,
I missed you all these years.
Jamshed Alvi.”
I wish I would have met him even for a single minute before he passed away. May his soul rest in peace.
Categorized in Blogroll, anger, childhood, death, fiction, friends, happiness, health, hope, imagination, kids, life, love, myslef, personal, random, sadness, story, thoughts and writing
Just today I clicked to sign into my blog and the website prompted me by saything ‘blog suspended’ and only giving me time to shield my eyes, my monitor exploded throwing me to the ground. Im like whaa?! I quickly took out my brother’s laptop and without even waiting for windows to start up, tried signing in to wordimpress.com again. The same prompt. I quickly shielded my eyes again screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”. No explosion this time. I peaked from behind my hand to see a big HAHA screen saver floating around the screen like it had nothing better to do. Damn right it didn’t. I quickly adopted my kung-fu typing stance and wrote an e-mail to Mark Anthony. He never replied probably because he had nothing to do with the blog. Then some other guy also named Mark replied back saying, “I’m hella sorry dawg, that aint was gonna supposed to B happenin’. Ill fix-a-dix it ASAP. Peace out biatch.” I tried signing in again and a red carpet rolled out from under the PC and i walked right into my blogworld.
In short, wordpress support was very very quick in fixing the problem.
Thanks Mark.
Categorized in Blogroll, humour and useless shit
We think in a language, in a language we are comfortable with. It’s mostly our mother tongue. We don’t even realize it that we think in a language subconsciously. But imagine a person with no language. If a newborn baby were to be put alone on an island and never taught anything, would he think? If he would, what language would it be in? Is it even possible to think without knowing a language? Would he ever speak any words or make noise when he doesn’t know what words sound like? Would he even know he could speak? And if he doesn’t have a language and we need that for thinking, will he not think at all?
Always makes me wonder.
Categorized in Blogroll, beauty, hope, life, random, thoughts and writing
.
The future that i dreamt was a fruitless attempt,
The present that you breed, is only to feed your greed.
The past all forgotten, hearts rusted and rotten.
All that remains, the disease of power in our veins.
Categorized in life, personal, reality, sadness and thoughts
