Inspirations In Sunset

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The positive sensation that this time of the day clasps is incomparable to anything during the whole day, no matter how amusing your time at work or school was this last hour of the sun’s descending carries its own uniqueness. For me, sitting under the scarlet sky, sipping refreshing green tea, and on top of that, holding a piece of paper and a pen ready to spill my thoughts over, is a perfect way of doing justice with it.

My balcony glows with a spectrum of different alluring colors and ecstasies at the moment. When I raise my head I see the vault of heaven, like a deep blue ocean with no sea creatures but merely some jelly fish scattered in the form of clouds, adding elegant touch to it. It is so inspiring to just stare right at God’s creation and enjoy the pleasure free of cost. The birds with their feathers wide open, pierce the thin moist air, and return back home. Perhaps they bring something back along with them to surprise their little ones left in the nest all day.

As I look towards the West, the sky seems springing into bright colors, it goes from blue to peach to very bright orange and then finally to dull yellow where the actual rounded mass is stored. All day this same source of energy had been affecting nature’s activities, may it be human or other creations of God. Like an exhausted person returns back home dull and tired, the sun after a whole day of work is declining into the horizon with low intensity and showing how feeble it has become . All day our routine revolved along with the sun’s position, the time it ascended in to the sky we also got up from our beds. Then came the evening when the intensity of the sun blazed right on our heads and our level of activity was high too.  Now finally when its setting, our tasks of the day have also come to an end and we return home with either yields or debts.

All of this comes down to one thing, that we ignore many things in our lives which can inspire us utmost and affect us in ways unprecedented. Even if it is the sun that shows up every morning. What if it doesn’t show up tomorrow? Think about that and seize the day, capture every moment and take inspiration from every minor fragment of nature that is present around you. The ball is in your court and it is where you throw it that matters. If you fall down, stand up again, luminous like the evening sun. There will be times when you will be knocked down but don’t forget that the night is not meant to scare you, the sun still illuminates the moon leaving no doubts about its existence. It will come back the next day, the sun retains its remembrance through the moon. Don’t forget to be the sun that sets everyday yet manages to rise up again. KEEP INSPIRING 😀

TQ

The Beautiful Sky

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So many world views

Produce such great tributes

Man yearns for sights

At least once before he dies

They are all exquisite

Stand tall in their might

But simply nothing can side

The beautiful sky

Man builds high buildings

He climbs mountain peaks

Constructs vast mansions

Stands back and proudly sees

What he does not realize

Is the fact that he chases

Heights and mountains

For closeness to the sky

The sea shows a panorama

The jungle shows a collage

The mountain shows a vantage

The fire seems to dance

All under and towards the sky

 

Wars are waged

And victories celebrated

Humans put on show

Their incredible morals at play

Histories are produced

And evolution transforms life

There stands a witness so robust and high

The ultimate sky, the bearing sky

It could be the endlessness

It could be the domain

It could be the infinity

Of what the open can seize

Man has always been prone

To curiosity of the unknown

The canopy appeals to him

For what lies above his own

The relentless sky

The look of the exotic

Makes all men sigh

But the eyes get tired

And the pleasure eventually dies

What always remains, is the sigh of relief

The painful heave, the burst of grief

When man breaks down

Under the open sky

Maybe that’s why God promised

A life after death

To fulfill the craving

To put the human soul at rest

To finally let them

Fly beyond the sky

-IR

A Soldier’s Wife

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She feels the tips of his fingers slipping away
And savors his sight as he leaves
A pang of sorrow grips her heart
But she has to encounter the grief
Patience and belief are now a part of her life
She is, after all, a soldier’s wife

As she goes about the days
A month has passed
She recalls when she felt him and heard him last
“I love you”, he said and embraced her tight
Then he set out to fulfill the nation’s right
It is this security that she longs to bribe
She is, after all, a soldier’s wife

The trees change shades and the weather changes form
365 days have passed all along
As she looks in the mirror her hair has grown long
He used to play with them and sing merry songs
The fear has drained away and the worry has worn
She knows he may never come back how worst can it be
She would spend her life smiling with pride
She was, after all, a soldier’s wife

The doorbell rings and she stirs awake
She has stopped counting days and lives for God’s sake
Something in her heart makes her guilty of hope
She waives it off and runs to get the door
The sight on the other side strikes her dumb
He touches her hand but they have gone numb
She treats him like a dream which has gone extreme
She thinks this is so and tries to move away
He brings her closer and she hears him breathe
For a moment she dares to think he is real
It is then his voice which brings her back to life
She is, after all, a soldier’s wife

-IR

The Bombed Sight

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His fingers savored the cotton he was lying upon. It had a hospital feel to it. Years of experience had accentuated his sense of smell and touch so much that he could use them in figuring out where he was and what was happening. This had allowed him to rely entirely on his smell, feel and hearing ability. The limited visual data in his memory restricted his sense of imagination. The few pictures his mind had ever recorded were minor glimpses. The memory he remembered most was the last image he had seen. He was eight years old when it happened.

A busy street lined with apartment buildings, stalls of fruit and vegetables buzzed with people and flies. Men with dark freckled skins and sweat drenched clothes shouted out their exclusive bargaining deals. He remembered his two stringed blue slippers and his dirty feet that he had decided to wash before his mother saw them. He was carrying a pouch of yoghurt in his hand and looked longingly at the man standing with a stand full of small bird cages. There were little finches of colors orange, green and pink. He really wanted to buy another set after a cat had attacked his chicks. There were motor bikes parked at the ground floor near his apartment building. A man sat on one of them and put the key inside the lock and turned. The engine jerked to life. The next moment, there was a loud noise and Ahmed felt blown backwards by a very disturbing white light as sharp objects pierced his skin. The last view he remembered was a blur of people running here and there. There were shrieks and there was blood. As he lay on the shaken ground, his mind trying to comprehend the last minute, the blur began to dissolve into darkness and there was a gush of pain in his forehead. He screamed with agony and the colors of his eyes seemed to fade into the air with his voice.

 The next few days were confusion. Ahmed could hear panicked sounds, he could feel needles being injected into his body, he could smell the sterilized hospital air but there was no picture. What he could not feel was whether his eyes were opened or closed or whether he was alive at all. He wondered if it was something that happened to all the dead people. He found it hard to think because there was so much numbness. He had spoken to a female one night, she sounded like a doctor, very consistent and polite in speech. He also remembered that he had answered something and that she knew that he was awake. He recalled her words the next morning and realized that she had been talking about a bandage around his eyes. Then his mother and father came in one day. His mother sobbed and pressed his head into her chest. Ahmed could smell his mother’s scent and could feel her tears falling on his nose. He wanted to cry as well but the bandage was too tight to allow tears to flow. His nose bubbled instead and he let out a cry from his mouth. It felt so much lighter.

As the doctor injected another needle near the corner of his eye, Ahmed returned to the present. His adrenaline was too high despite the numbing injections which the doctor had been feeding him since morning. He was very anxious to see the world again. Ten years of his life had been nothing but mere darkness, those ten dear years when he transitioned from a toddler to a teenager. Life had not allowed him the sight of pretty girls, the laugh of school friends and the pleasure of cigarette smoke. He was eighteen now and the best thing he knew was the language of the blind. He had developed an expert intuition; he could sense peoples’ emotions only by the tone of their voice, something even people with a perfect sight could not do. He had become very sensitive to the sounds and sensations around him. He had grown from a bewildered child to a practical teenager hearing exactly the same content of news. Public places bombed, innocent people dead, their families left helpless. Sometimes he was thankful for only having lost his sight and still having his family beside him. Television was like radio to him and he spent most of his time hearing it. He had been enrolled in a blind school and was much more focused and thoughtful about what he studied because there were fewer distractions than what people with a sight would encounter. Podcasts and lectures were his educational aides. He had friends who lived in the same world of darkness filled with so much feeling and insight at its core.

Today he was being operated for an eye transplant. It felt like a transition to another life. His blood pressure was pumping high, there was so much surprise to handle. He wondered if his father wore the same spectacles, if his mother had any grey hair now. He wanted to see Ayesha and Rehan and all his friends. He wanted to see how his birds looked like; he had made guesses of their colors and could distinguish them from their chirp. It was like imagining a book character and waiting to see how it looked like in the movie. Most of all he wanted to see his face, hair and body. People said that he had grown into a tall muscular man. He only remembered his long face, lean figure and dirty eight year old feet. It was like being born again to a different world. However, he was also afraid, that it would all be the same and in fact, more desolate. After what he had known from television, what he did not want to see was bigger blasts, hopeless faces and relentless apathetic leaders having a good time ruling people who were struck with a worst kind of poverty than what he remembered.

 IR

A letter to my future Husband

 

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As I sit here to write this letter to you in my sweat pants and T- shirt, I realize that sooner or later this will not be my attire as I will be your wife and an elegant lady, not a lost ball in high weeds. I will have responsibilities because my life will then belong to you, like yours will belong to me, which is not the case yet since I have no idea where you are at the moment.

 

Probably the stranger that just crossed the road was you or probably you have not appeared in front of me yet. Whatever be the case, when you do come at the right moment, I guess I will never have to fine tooth comb you because you are meant to be there for me and its God’s decision not mine.

 

My intention behind writing this letter is that I want to express myself to you which I might not be able to do in person and also because I suddenly had an urge of writing this letter. So that when I say “I do” in the beautiful white gown, I can hand it over to you and you may get a better understanding of the person I am.

 

Right now I see myself as a total mess, but I have to tell you I will always be a mess because I like it this way. I like being crazy and I would want to make you the same but no matter how idiotic I behave at times, I will always deliver the goods and never let you down.

 

 Sometimes we may quarrel for nothing, it can be on you or me, but we will resolve it because I am not very hard to deal with, a nice sincere talk would do.

 

I am a 20 year old at the moment but boy trust me I have experienced things. I have been in love and then been heartbroken because of it, those were the times when I was a rolling stone which gathered no moss and I deeply apologize if that offends you.

 

 But I vow to you that it was the past and it is over now. I am sure you have a past too and I would request you to leave it behind because I believe in making our present and future brighter.

 

Life has never been smooth for anybody and we being a couple will have our dark days too but I will treat you as a man of my own heart and I would hope for you to do the same.

 

 All I can ever demand from you is to love me like you never loved anybody. I want you to respect me and my opinion about life. I want you to cherish me like I will cherish you.

 

 I can be emotional at times and would behave like a riddle, all puzzled and enigmatic but I expect you to deal with it. I expect you to just listen to me if you cannot really help doing anything else but only listen and let me pour it out because it helps a lot. Do I demand too much?

 

As far as my obligations upon you are concerned, I will give you all that u need and if I ever lack in any aspect please forgive me, it would never be my intention. I will be easy on you, if I ever have any problems with you I will talk to you about it instead of testing your mind reading skills.  You can also express yourself to me and consider me your best friend.

 

I promise you, I will never let you regret what we have. I will never fail us and I want you to do the same.

 

Yours and only yours,

 

Wife to be

 TQ