Ramblings

She has just left the room and I have switched off lights and slipped in my bed. I am enough tired of the travelling but I know I wouldn't be able to catch my sleep. I reached the hostel in evening. I had much time to relax, had dinner and asked her to make tea.
We both have loquacious nature. Usually on such reunions we both try to get the opportunity to tell the story first. Since last three hours she has been telling me the details of what happened to her when I wasn't here. She must had realized my taciturnity earlier but she didn't highlighted it. Once she passed me my cup of tea she said, "missing home?". I spontaneously replied, "no, not". "Then whom?", she asked. "Not missing anybody but tired", I answered. She said, "OK". I can feel that she wasn't convinced. Our conversation ended. With this silence melancholy of one being surrounded everything around within seconds. She hardly had the last sip of her tea and said, "good night".
This is how I am, making simple things complicated, altering easy truths into hard lies, keeping my feelings confidential, fighting all time with myself to portray myself someone else. Later regretting that why i did so. Why do I keep my treasures unshared. What if I would tell her that I am missing not only someone but everyone.
The act of missing is like dis entwining the thread from a bobbin. One end of a thread tied with something if the bobbin drops from the hand one knows not how far it will go rolling on the floor. Sometimes when you try to stop it, it strikes away unwinding the thread more and more.
When I am writing this, I have travelled much in my mind from one person to another, from one memory to another, from one dream to the next searching that whom I am actually missing.
This search is painful, the memories of the past, the good ones and the worse are filled with many faces, the faces I want to get back and the faces I want to be with and the faces I want to forget.
Yes, I miss you, and I miss them too. But this is not the end of my search.
That is for whom I miss the most -myself.

Islamabad

Fa Sabrun Jameel

wesay tu her waqt aur her kam k doraan mere zehn k pas e parda aik he manzar gardish krta rehta hay lekin namaz k bad, dua main, aur sonay se pehlay wohi manzar ankhoN k samnay aa jata hay. kabhi koi baat aur kabhi koi aur magar wohi. 

un ka is tarha chalay jana hmaray darmiyan se. phir neend kesay aye. buhat daer wohi film kabhi maazi ki yaad aur kabhi aik mustaqil kami k sath mustaqbil ki aik tasveer. main ankhain band kr k leti he thi k achanak youn mehsoos hua k kisi ne sir se aasmaan he khainch lia preshani main uth bethi tu laga k paoN k neechay zameen bhi nahi hay. 

maan baap aulad k liay kia hota hain, pehlay pta nahi chalta. jb nahi rehtay tu ehsas hota hay. woh tu chalay jatay hain sukhi ho jatay hain mgr hum kia kho beth'tay hain tab samajh ata hay.

main yahan aati hoon tu mujhay lagta hay k kuch kami hay, mujhy ghar jana chahiay. ghar jati hoon tu bhi adhoora pan, aik khlaa. youn lagta hay jesay main aik shuttlecock hoon. na yahan tik skti hoon na wahan.

kabhi mujhay un k phone ka intezar hota hay k wo phone pr mujhay smjhaien gay mujhay motivate kraingay mgr jb khud ko smjhati hoon k koi phone nahi aana tu........

kitni kasak hay dil main k mujhy koi khidmat ka moqa he nai mila. kitni aasani se khud ko minus kr lia unhon nay k kisi ka ehsan na uthana paray, kisi ko taklif na ho. mainay tu kabhi unhain ye b nai btaya k main un se kitna piyar krti hoon. mainay un ko btana tha k main un pr kitna maan krti hoon k wo mujh pr fakhar krtay hain. wo mera ideal thay ab realise hua hay. buhat daer baad.

jb wo chalay gaye mainay khud ko smjhaya k hum sb ne marna hay. aur hum aakhir main jannat main milain gay. lekin ye intezar itna kathan itna lamba ho ga ye tu smjh he nahi aya.

hum kb maraingay, hum kab ikathay hongay?

Fa sabrun Jameel

June 12, 2013

Fatima Hostel

NUST

Islamabad

Windstorms

You are the wind
and the glass pane
of my window is broken.

I am the wind
and the glass pane
of your window is broken too.



Sobia Ehsan
NUST, H-12, Islamabad.

In the name of State Saviours

Melancholy prevails all around. Political uncertainty and security issues remain big question at time. On one hand we have around hundred killed in Quetta, still unburied after more than 72 hours of their death and on the other hand, the so called patriotic Islamists are preparing for a march to "rescue the state, not the politics".

A friend has told me about recent fight on the line of control bringing in causalities on both ends India and Pakistan.

I am not much into the politics. I am just an ordinary Pakistani citizen usually concerned about my job, daily livings and family obligations only. I am the one who like many others hear the news of such genocide ranging the death toll tens to hundreds and become sad. At times, I definitely plea Almighty Allah to have mercy on Pakistan or question myself, "for how long this will continue?" but I never get enough time to seriously get involved in it that how can we do something to stop it because I have my own list of issues to get resolved first. I am already bothered by CNG/petrol shortages, rising inflation (esp. grocery), paying utility bills, going office in time and trying hard to maintain zero deficit domestic budget. Such violence issues remain highlighted in my mind only as they remain media highlights. Abusing the government secretly and sometimes openly in my circle is my first and far most reaction.

Receiving birthday wishes from loved ones, I am unable to feel the joy. I am badly stuck with a question. Whom to blame for all such circumstances, the govt., the politicians, the nation, or the external forces?

And yes, here my heart whispers, "blame your own self!"

"Blame myself?" I ask. "Yes, you!" it says, "you are the one among all others who feed them, protect them, shelter them to use the authority they way they want to". “you the intellectuals of this country” it continues, “wedged in the vicious circle of earning, keeping yourself away from political filth, accepting all sorts of impositions, loots, violence, restrictions, and suppression! You are the biggest threat to Pakistan".

I am almost speechless. I am wondering, “Really, am I a threat to Pakistan?”

“AM I?”


13-01-2013
NUST H-12, Islamabad

Emptiness

Walking in emptiness
wondering for meanings
of my being
I find none
joy, pain, light or shadow
but emptiness prevails
and, nowhere to go.
Here I am today,
tomorrow I will be gone.
Longing and suffering
for things- should be done.
Life is disparity
(I hope) breaking into the dawn.






Sobia Ehsan (NUST, H-12, Islamabad)
November 10-11-12

Happiness is everywhere for everyone.

If happiness were ever possible through money and luxuries, rich men would have never been gloomy. Seasons of life are never permanent. Flowers bloom in the spring and get gloom in the autumn. As Spanish proverb states, "There is no happiness, there are only moments of happiness" 

Happiness is not an apple which falls itself or one easily plucks it off. Indeed it is a road which is rocky, rigid, dried and thorny. One has to stand insuperable but he shall find himself frequently unhappy on the road unto happiness. As an old proverb says, “Call no Man Happy till he is Dead.” Indeed, we live, expect, desire, feel panic and never live permanently happy. 

Undoubtedly, route of happiness gets never completed; it is always under construction. 

Therefore, one must try to do noble deeds that give joy to one's soul, the deeds for betterment of humankind. Every individual should strive hard to help in constructing the road to happiness not for himself only but for others around. This might help one to find the treasure of rejoice hidden in others happiness. 

Eternity

And on this path, there befell whatsoever befalls always,
Why lament over it, and why accuse.
And however it came, when oblivion came
Either as an avenger or the aspect of love
This is how we must say adieu.
The sore of heart have gone to their peace, God be praised!
And the sweetness of the lips endures yet, Thank the Lord!
The blessed sleeping the sleep of the blessed
The wanderer taking the pathways once more.
My secret longings,
My dreams and my passions
All the dreams and all the passions which had lived for you
Fail to find the life anew.
Like a song without words,
This neither begins nor ends.
This is eternity.

Sobia Ehsan (NUST, Islamabad)
September, 2012

P.S.: I miss you Abu Ji

Aik Khat

Buhat muddat nahi guzri
Humaray rabt ko tootay huay
Sadian nahi beetien
Tumharay khat ko parhtay he
main pehlay say xiada muztrib, be-chain hoti thi
Tumharay qalm ki jadoogari
tumharay zehn k sb naqsh lafzo'n main smoti thi
Musalsal piyar ki qasmain;
Aadhay adhooray vasl k vaday;
main hr dam khojti rehti;
her aik ik lafz ka mafhoom
khud say poochti rehti.

Magar ye khat!
k is kaghaz k tukray pr
siwaye nam k meray
tumhain kuch bhi nahi soojha.
Ye kitna khoobsurat hay!!


Swaiba EA

Travelling Experience

This is one of my dream travelling. I am going home by train. What a journey. I am cherishing this moment alone. Though it was not supposed to be like this. Still I am happy to do it alone because I am no more in limbo. I have started to live my own. Life is like this. Time didn’t stop for my grief or this world. Life is too short to wait for someone. Especially when one knows that nothing can happen now. Decisions were made in heavens that we were not to unite. It’s almost one year we talked softly to each other. Still he is living in me. Every moment he is in my mind. He made me to dream a lot. I was always outrageous but not such practical. Now one can call me seasoned. 

This is so beautiful. Everything is neat as it rained most of the province. Sky is still cloudy. This is upper class AC parlor. Nonstop rail car from Islamabad to Lahore 700 am. Two executives are sitting next to me. Three ladies are travelling to visit their relatives in Lahore. A gang of university guys and gals is sitting behind. I can listen their chit chats and cutting jokes on each other. Railway has served the breakfast. I haven’t done with it but I think its bread and butter. The train has passed through a tunnel and now its banjar all around. It’s a nice beginning. But I don’t know what would be the end. The memories are going to kill me. But I such a dheat that I’ll keep on living. We watched Ijazat last night. Meray dil main itna dard hay k bass. Yeh wapsi ka sfr hmesha he bra kathan hota hay. Allah asaani kray.Amen!

Blue Dust

A green breeze sweeps us up,
In slow mornings of dazzling jasmine
Waking us to red grass
Sliding beneath our feet.

We live in the shade,
You and I
The cold white light between us.

Allama Iqbal Int. Airport, Lahore