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Friday, September 27, 2013

Teens & Facebook

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

about near-lyfe experience.

This maybe what I've on record as any will of sorts, now obviously a will is a privat document but somethin' just happened which prompts da need 4 some sort of a testament to mi last few thoughts, if u will... I'm obviously not thinking stright right now...so, if I may...I'll not name neone cuz it'll leave me wid quite a few pridcaments...I'm not makeing sense...FUCK!
All I wannna say is love ya mi family... ya half a dozen brathaz wid respective wives, nd wives-2-be... mi love 4 behna is well documented buh not haven't been illustrated enuf in recent past...tonz ov love dere goes...
friends 4rm as far bak as cricket in garage to as recent as Islamabad...BNU, College- yeah! doez bring a smile .... it does...late nights at faisal town... gettin wasted at mi place... watever... u all know ...
I don't really think dat I owe neone ne apologies wen it comes 2 matters of proverbial heart; I sincerely believe dat I've been fair in mi dealingz and if u do think dat I've ronged u den it's a misunderstanding stemming 4rm insecurities native to matters ov proverbial heart! muah! take care...stop mourning me. Move on! Yeah! All ove ya... I think derez only one such case were I can say dat u've moved on... all of ya r stuck on me...come on now... u've lives...make most of it!
Much thanks 2 every single soul who made an an impact in ma life...however bad u think ... however,,,, unfair,,,nd disloyal u think ....u were... watever..gud or bad...u made mi lyfe worth living...
:)
- LMIO (Laffing mi insidez out)

Saturday, June 26, 2010

ab so lain?

(Should) Write in a rhythm: short sentences small words; long sentences big words :-P

This is not a confession. You'll see I've no intention of coming to terms with my past, vile and depraved or pious as it maybe. I do not seek atonement. Much has been said by many a revered minds about one's past, their pasts probably. Presently, I believe, whatever I say about pasts very well has already been said and has been said more eloquently. But this is not reason enough to stop short of anything; just because something has been done should not be a reason to not do it again. About three and a quarter centuries back this would've been reason enough but now our lives are positively mere conventions and set of rituals. We must not fool ourselves with terms like 'innovation' or 'unconventional' – innovation since long has become a custom and being unconventional is, as we know, a popular trend.

          Admitting to the fact that there are downsides of a life lived recklessly will be redundant but I do admit it. I admit, only to add that there are downsides to a cautious life too. The paths you chose in yesterday are equally loathsome as the ones you did not choose. It does, on many counts, mean that whatever you are doing presently is of little or no value. But this is no way to live a life. Any life! How infinitely worthless you think your life is.

          Something universal about our say 'collective experience' suggests that we learn of all possible human emotions in the first two years of our lives. Afterwards, we mostly learn demonic ones. Without going into a debate, I reckon if you have lived to twenty you have most certainly come across hopelessness. There are times when there is no light at the end of your tunnel. There are times when you wish for a light at the end of your tunnel, even if it is a train speeding ahead to crush you. Such despair; when there is no hope of success, or even comfort, is not unique. When you are humiliated by just being etc – such hopelessness is not singular to my experience.

          Life in perfect ebb and flow is geared towards the future. We live our lives for our tomorrow, then for the day after where our children will be. Our vision is clouded by fantasies and fears alike. Hopes and dreams are a natural part of it; perhaps it is because of the biological clock ticking towards our definite end. End stands for completion. We are not required to think about the future or plan for it, life will be complete without our planning anything at all. Life happens, most of it, while we are making plans for it. Nevertheless, we make plans or in the least fantasize about future with hope. Even pessimists anticipate the future. It is a part our design. It is a part of our cosmic design. That same cosmic design which ensures that, most if not all of, our dreams will be shattered, our hopes will remain hopes and die, our fantasies will be crushed and hopelessness will meet us halfway to our completion.

          It is exactly because of this design we need to have a past. Therefore, making it imperative to act in the present to shape our past – our past weighs more than the future. Future is made of nothing but hope hence useless when we are hopeless. That is when we need our pasts, our pasts which are far more tangible and far more richer than hopes and fantasies. We should not dwell in the past, or sulk over it, or glorify at its expense. But what we are going to need is a past which can offer us refuge when fantasies of future have turned their back. We must work for a past. A past which can make us smile, even as we feel disgusted by our being and humiliated at our existence. Such a smile can go a long way. If you can't make a past which you can cherish in times of absolute nothingness; at least leave it as a hideout – as a refuge when fantasies of future have turned their back. 

Thursday, June 03, 2010

for sale

I found a bank receipt that says I deposited Rs. 78,645/- in mi account last year July 03. I do not remember where it came from, it’s irrelevant. What I do know is, year on, I could use an identical cheque. In fact, I reckon I need it more than last year. I had been clinging on to my cherished social status as a transitory vulnerable for years and I’m sure that cheque made my day then. Now, I’m not clinging onto anything. There’s nothing to cling onto, you see. There’s nothing transitory about poverty.

Cursor blinks. It will be wrong to suggest that I don’t have anything to say but it’s true that I wither under self-censorship. Hey, that is not to say I won’t be able to do whatever I could do last year. Yeah, I would dance naked for thaaat cheque now :) I dance terribly, but I would do better than I did last year. LMAO! I have no fuckin’ clue what made someone loose eighty large ones to me. I’m too old a guy to even whore myself for that kinda cheque.

“You internalise stress and deal with it through a process of self-destruction.” Can’t place where I heard or read it; I’ve been reading like – an avid reader perhaps. I’ve lost all hope of finding a book in my room which I haven’t already read. I’ve read these volumes and re-read them. I think I should frequent libraries but they lock down early; isn’t there a 24-hour book joint where one can read and panhandle his way through an occasional meal and cigarettes?

Saturday, May 15, 2010

faiz.




Dono jahaan teri muhabbat main haar ke; Voh jaa rahaa hai koi shab-e-gam guzaar ke

Veeran hai maykada, khum-o-saagar udaas hai; Tum kyaa gaye ke rooth gaye din bahaar ke

Ek phursat-e-gunah milee, voh bhi chaar din; Dekhe hain humne housle parvardigaar ke

Duniya ne teri yaad se begaana kar diyaa; Tujshe bhi dil-fareb hai, gam rozgaar ke

Bhoole se muskara to diye the voh aaj “faiz”; Mat poocho valvale dil-e-nakardaa kaar ke

shadow of my soul

Before nervous breakdown sets in, I feel I must wash mi hands. Hardly anything of value to write but if I'm messed up enough to be 'here' then...so be it. If I understand correctly, I hardly want to write abhi. You see, laying words on paper is a craft; expression comes from the mind not from the soul but what is expressed is conceived by the soul, or the proverbial heart. Right now, mi soul is having a hard tyme staying in the container of mi body; it has lost its shadow and now it wants to break out of me and claim it back.

Is that really my soul? It could be an empty stomach. Nah! Something is trying to breakaway from me; I can feel my skin stretched, the organs out of place, my mind about to - not explode, but - melt. I reckon I should think on a tangent.

The expression 'mi lady' does not imply possession. Of what I know I can tell, it was a novel set in late 1700s. 'mi lady' is equivalent to say... ah! that's the word: 'mi lord' - now, no one will argue 'mi lord' implies possession and submission. 'mi lady', the term, was used by chauffeurs, men in staff and general public when addressing their countess/dutchess - any noble lady. They could've hardly implied possession without the risk of getting their heads chopped of.  The term is an expression of respect and high esteem. I'm not a linguist, or a historian, but I think the use of this term was completely abolished only after the Feminist Movement. I strongly suggest that no reader use this detailing of 'mi lady' for academic purposes; what I write here is hardly ever thought through and never researched.   

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Infighting in All Hundred and Forty-Seven Armies

Once on the last day of some century during those millennia of war, there broke infighting among Lieutenant's men. It was not serious enough to think that there was any danger of division among his men but he still took precautions to ensure unity and brotherhood, at least in the battlefield. He believed that his men  were capable of selfless feats when presented with a choice to sacrifice themselves and save a fellow soldier; there infighting was more a result of their anxiety over the plague of war. Lieutenant understood them. Combined all armies fighting the millennia of war did not have more than a handful of soldiers like the lieutenant himself, in fact only the commandants on the one hundred and forty-seven sides shared his clay.

Lieutenant was gossiping with his best soldiers, in fact he was entertaining his men with concocted stories about highly imaginative virgins who had surrendered themselves to Lieutenant – always somewhere equally fantastic and majestic. His men knew but were so wholly dependent on these sessions with their superior for lightness of heart that they never questioned or corrected him. Lieutenant was creating something picturesque with a quiet waterfall surrounded by dense forests of Niguana – no one reminded him that Niguana was a small patch of sub-tropical desert.

‘Every lip tastes different.” Lieutenant said as he licked his own lips with the tip of his coarse tongue.