too kia haii....
har aik baat pey kehtey hoo tum key too kia hai...tumhi kaho key yeah andaz-e-goftagoo kia hai...ragoon mein thordthey phirney key hum nahin kaial...jab ankh hii sey na tapka too phir laho kia haii....chipak raha hai badan pey lahoo sey pehrahanhamari jaib ko abb hajat-e-rafoo kia hai....jala hai jism jahan dil bhi jal gia ho ga....kuraidate ho jo abb raaz justagoo kia hai...har aik baat pey kehtey hoo key too kia hai...rahaein na takatey guftar aur yakeen ho bhi...too kis umeed pey khiey key arazzo kia hai...haar aik baat pey kehtey hoo key too kia hai...tumhi kahoo key yeah andaz-e-guftagoo kia hai...
for joora & niassuh
i am not much of a writer and it is very seldom that i would especially write something for someone. for the time bein joora the hope and niassuh the strong are two charecters who have suddenly became very special to me. hence this posting is just for them. life is not a box of choclate. one does know what is coming, what is going what would taste like what, what should be done what should not be done, but still we do keep on doing things, some because we cant help ourselves for example love, some things which we have to do, example smile, some which is expected of us example respect. we know the consequences of our doings but still we keep on doing those things. but in the process we kind of become the people which we dont think we are. we start to depend on things, people, the tic tac of the clock. but is it inportant i think not. birthdays are a time when one realizes what one did the past year and for me it is the worst day of my life. well it used to be. always a guilt always a shame. friends who are there just because they like the person who you have so masterfully been pretending to be. so why cry infront of these "friends" who might see thee real you through the tears. i am not saying tha all the people who are "friends" dont know the real you. but the are very few. very very few. so sometimes i guess it is far better to cry infront of the stranger in you. at least it wont hurt you.who said life would be simple. lfe was meant to mess up people, especially those who have been tryin there level best to make the best out of it.grief something which should be there on the mantle of ones heart reminding of the importance of the little small happiness which comes along the way. a genuine smile, a tight hug, a paratha, it could be anyting. but that grief is there for like ones own medal to prove that he can now act another charecter.but grief is not the main thing should not be the main thing.and the world does conspires but we tend to be too impatient to enjoy or even see the conspiracy. we get tierd we want everything fast. we get suffocated by the glass palaces. which is understandable too. but if only we just wait. it could take an eternity but after initial few time one eventually doe become a stone. which isnt bad because then the false soft mushy things which can hurt you the most just dont effect you. you smile, you respond you act but they become meaningless.one becomes a tree of winter which looks dead and bare but then summer comes with th sunlight and every stem the sunlight touches seems to become alive with the energy pased to it by the sun. this for us can be a flower, a pack of cigrette, a wraper, hell it can be anything. these are the things which genuinly are there, even there existance might be known by only and only us but still they are there. these do increase but only and nly if one is ready to become dead for them. smile and act and play along. with all the false mushiness the real thing does come along. so one justhas to wait enough. cry enough, smile enough.one has to keep oneself open oneself a loner onself a little lunatic.so my dearest joora and niassuh remeber its alrite to be alone, to question oneself to cry to be a little crazy, because for the next few years if you allow me i will b there for your shit as the irritating stranger and then i would also dissapear like all those who made this claim... Lunatic Ramblings
one art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
by elizebeth bishop
who will...
who will cry for the little boy lost and all alone...who will cry for the little boy abandoned with his own...who will cry for the little boy he cries himself to sleep...who will cry for the little boy who never have keep...who will cry for the little boy who walked the burning sand...who will cry for the little boy a boy inside the man...who will cry for the little boy who knew well hurt and pain...who will cry for the little boy who died and died again...who will cry for the little boy a good boy he tried to be...who will cry for the little boy who cries inside of me.(not mine but really liked it)
