Realizations....

i have been coming on my blog every night for past whole week and have written so many things but everytime i just couldnt bring my self to actually publish what i was really thinking, probably because everytime somehow what i thought and what i wrote never concided. last whole week has been a strange sort of week. had an extreme sucess and had an extreme loss, but right now both the success and the loss seems to be just another thing. i didnt completely lost it like i use to at the loss but i sure hell acted so well that i could have fooled my own mum. with success its the same. its not that i am ungreatful to ALLAH on the contrary i am so humbled that there are no words for it.

its said that time heals every wound but with me the time is not passing but the wounds are being healed automatically. time is just still, static stopped. that yearn that need is not of that frequency which used to be. for me being all by my self is not as bad as ithought that it would be. about a week ago one of my friends said rather told me that i need to be in a relationship or that i should have a girlfriend. and i told him that i dont really require one. and that is the reality because if i commit i commit completely and if i dont then i dont. i just cant be unsure and god knows that there are other so many things in life about which i am so unsure. why would i need to add another unsurity on top of that. i am not saying that this relationship dosent work because it does for some people. and i hope that those who are in it are just sure about it because we are ourselves branding ourselves. branding is the process by which the farmers mark their catle by stamping them with red hot iron design. so initially everything is hot painfull and later own it does cool down but that design that mark always stays on ones soul. some hide it some show it of but the fact is that mark stays.

some times the mark is put on us. even if we dont want it... i would rephrase the last sentence we want it but we dont want it because we have this capacity for standing up for ourselves. inside us some thing breaks and we let people mark us forever. if you are with old people you can see so many marks in their eyes when the talk abt their past abt other people abot their spouses about their children. so every one gets the marks the stamps. i remember the glow in my Nani's eyes when ever she use to talk about my Nana. there was a certain sort of spark in her eyes, a certain special smile just for him even though he had died thirty years before her death... even if she would recall a certain incident which was not exactly pleasent there was the smile and you could feel how she felt... for her that was it.... i want that for my life....not just a girlfriend whom i would forget five years later.... some people would say that its wish ful thinking and that it is all fantasy dreams etc.... so what if they are.... when leanordo di vici followed his dreams and invented the basis of his flying machine people of his time use to say that he is insane and that he is losing his marbles but now people say that he is great just because he followed his dreams... ther is a strange thing with people in which i am included...if some one succed then what ever he did was great but if some one fail we simply refuse to accept that probably he also did something right...
friends leave a mark on you... i would know because with all the travelling i have had loads of friends out of which not even one is here whom i befriended sixyears ago.... i have a group of completely new individuals.... they are now puting their marks adding their flavour putting their colour on the canvas of my soul.... i dont know whether they would still be their after five years... but one thing i know now that some one does take place of the past people but the individuals leave their marks.... and i am so greatful to everyone and i mean everyone... those who who brought smiles to my face and to even those who brought tears because if they were not there i would have learnet to appreciate the joy of laughing so completely that you feel that you would burst and also the satisfying relaxation which you only get by letting all your guards down and wail on top of your lungs .... hence all is well... like it always is....



Lunatic Ramblings

We Are Many

Of the many men whom I am, whom we are,
I cannot settle on a single one.
They are lost to me under the cover of clothing
They have departed for another city.

When everything seems to be set
to show me off as a man of intelligence,
the fool I keep concealed on my person
takes over my talk and occupies my mouth.

On other occasions, I am dozing in the midst
of people of some distinction,
and when I summon my courageous self,
a coward completely unknown to me
swaddles my poor skeleton
in a thousand tiny reservations.

When a stately home bursts into flames,
instead of the fireman I summon,
an arsonist bursts on the scene,
and he is I. There is nothing I can do.
What must I do to distinguish myself?

How can I put myself together?
All the books I read
lionize dazzling hero figures,
brimming with self-assurance.
I die with envy of them;
and, in films where bullets fly on the wind,
I am left in envy of the cowboys,
left admiring even the horses.

But when I call upon my DASHING BEING,
out comes the same OLD LAZY SELF,
and so I never know just WHO I AM,
nor how many I am, nor WHO WE WILL BE BEING.
I would like to be able to touch a bell
and call up my real self, the truly me,
because if I really need my proper self,
I must not allow myself to disappear.

While I am writing, I am far away;
and when I come back, I have already left.
I should like to see if the same thing happens,
to other people as it does to me,
to see if as many people are as I am,
and if they seem the same way to themselves.

When this problem has been thoroughly explored,
I am going to school myself so well in things
that, when I try to explain my problems,
I shall speak, not of self, but of geography.

Pablo Neruda

Lunatic Ramblings

To Live is to be free

Just another town, another train
Waiting in the morning rain
Look in my restless soul, a little patience
Just another town, another train
Nothing lost and nothing gained
Guess I will spend my life in railway stations
Guess I will spend my life in railway stations
When you wake I know you'll cry
And the words I wrote to say goodbye
They won't comfort you at all
But in time you will understand
That the dreams we dreamed were made of sand
For a no-good bum like me
To live is to be free

Lunatic Ramblings

Mine :-)

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away. ~Dinah Craik

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. ~Albert Schweitzer

LALA

never thought that any one would call me that.
brings the most contended feeling when called lala... thank you for doing so.... you have no idea how great it feels....and yeah this is for you....bless you.

IF...

if you can keep your head when all about you
are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
but make allowance for their doubting too;
if you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
or being lied about, dont deal in lies,
or being hated,dont give way to hating,
and yet dont look too good, nor talk too wise:

if you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
if you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
if you can meet with triumph and disaster
and treat those two imposters just the same;
if you can bear to hear the truth youve spoken
twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
and stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

if you can make one heap of all your winnings
and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
and lose, and start again at your beginnings
and never breath a word about your loss;
if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
to serve your turn long after they are gone,
and so hold on when there is nothing in you
except the will which says to them: "hold on!"

if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
if all the men count with you,but none too much;
if you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds' worth of distance run--
yours is the earth and everything thats in it,
and--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

by Rudyard Kipling

(this poem was given to me by my father on my 23 birthday, and i would really like to pass it on to my friends niassuh, rabbaj & yhom)

Back Again

at last i am in... never thought that i will be able to get back in but thanks to joora and taneez i am in. any way...
for past couple of days so many thoughts so many things so many words have been coming to me and now that i have actually sat down to write them i am suddenly all blank... so much has happened since last i came here... made friends... got close to few people.... lost friends some due to because i could see that instead of bringing satisfaction we were just bringing misery by just our presence... been an eventful sort of a year.... things have changed ... the death which was always present has made it self more visable now... and the thing is its not that dark and gloomy anymore... this might sound really sucidal which trust me i am not but the thing is that what is so wrong with death... dying... dead... i mean dosent everything perish.... we always feel when something which our apparent senses could understand dies.. it could be a really beautiful touch me not plant, or it could be a delicate crystal, or it could be a really colourful bird... or human being...our senses are suddenly in a turmoil... the absence of that particular smell, the absence of that particul colour, the absence of that particular touch is missed but what abt the death of those things which we cannot explain from our these senses... i mean what abt the gradual death of love, what abt the death of intense hate, what abt the death of yearning feeling of being with someone. all these things do dye and sometimes this death brings a sense of freedom a sense of relife a sense of space... so that is how death has made itself more visable. and its not that bad...
anyway i am really happy to be back here... there will be more post definatelly from now on wards... (hopefully) :)

Lunatic Ramblings