Of Old Books & Strangers

There is just something about a battered old book that is irresistible. There is a distinct scent that clings to it. It is a scent that makes you think of the good old days. It is a scent that makes you feel lonely. It is a scent that arouses memories. It is a scent that arouses the wanderlust in you. It is a scent that makes you want to at once run wildly and curl up around a warm fire with a cup of hot tea. It is a scent that ah! cannot be described. It can only be felt. It is a shot of pure adrenaline. It is a touch of euphoria. It is confusion. It is…

Rate this:

Read more "Of Old Books & Strangers"

Truth Is…Truth

Nothing is true. Everything, every glimpse, holds falsity. The world, its peoples, even life itself submits to imitation. Why? Truth seems so vacant, its features so welcoming, its voice so enchanting yet all things mock and taunt this deep beauty, staining it, making it impure until even truth’s beautiful form becomes a lie…

Rate this:

Read more "Truth Is…Truth"

The Hollowness

It was a day that held memories; clear blue sky and the dulcet light of the sun made it all look divine, but no eye looked to the blue sea above or the dulcet sun, for all prospects held in their core some distorted image of a missing purpose, some empty part of life…

Rate this:

Read more "The Hollowness"

The Broken Branch

As the blinding rays of the sun pierced my eyes, I caught sight of a half broken branch hanging from a lone leafless tree, a few last stubborn threads holding it as it swayed in the soft wintry breeze.
The branch, it seemed, had given up, had let go but the tree hadn’t; like a mother to a child it clung to the branch, defying the rules of nature, unable to accept the fate of her child, that it was destined for disgrace and not for the glory of the skies.
The broken branch, that little damaged child, felt encaged by life itself…

Rate this:

Read more "The Broken Branch"


The Moon had unveiled its shiny visage and the stars had lost their demeanor and to eye it seemed as if a million gems were merely blinking beside their mother’s brightly opened eye. On the darkest canvas known to creation, the Moon could be seen relishing the fruit of its own mirror extant upon the illusive bod of water. Beside the vague yet astral image of darkness, an imitation of my artless mien could be beheld. I stood on the verge of my reflection’s embrace, lost in my fruitless thoughts, when in my horizon I glimpsed a birthing ripple. Confused and restless, like me, it spread its essence to the extents of every prospect, leaving in its steps a memory of chaos and randomness, and its small prominence with courage and insistence influenced every pattern of its mother’s illustrious eminence, coercing her to embrace its chaotic manner.

Rate this:

Read more "Ripple"

Happy New Year!

A few second were left, out of breath and out of shape but uncaring for his own existence, the boy waited and finally, he looked up to sky and beheld a sight that blew him away. Millions of stars had come out to greet him and in their midst was the Moon, the Mother, the Queen, it looked as if the light of the stars was embracing the Moon, it was beautiful, spectacular and behind him, every person, young or old, weak or strong, cried with the utmost fervor the song of the new year but the boy was still looking up for he had been granted his wish…he was free, at last.

Rate this:

Read more "Happy New Year!"

The Purpose

Every man is driven by a purpose. Different goals are kept in mind, different paths are paved toward those goals but all paths end at the same place; the ultimate form of greatness…

Rate this:

Read more "The Purpose"

A Coward’s Way

As I idly turn the brittle pages of an old book that has been sitting on my shelf for years, its cover buried beneath layers of dust and cobwebs, my eyes catch on a line…

Rate this:

Read more "A Coward’s Way"

Maghroor Logon Ki Aik Khaas Qism

انسان کو اللہ مقام عطا کرے تو فخر و غرور کا جن اکثر اس کے دماغ میں کسی خناس کی طرح گھس جاتا ہے۔کچھ لوگ تو اس فخرو غرور کو ایک چادر کی طرح اپنے بدن پر بڑے دھڑلے سے اوڑھے ہوئے ہوتے ہیں۔ ایسے لوگوں کی پھیلائی ہو ئی بد بو سے جو تعفن اس زمین پر پھیلا ہوا ہے اسکا اندازہ لگانا بھی ممکن نہیں۔عموماً ایسے لوگوں کا انجام بھی اچھا نہیں ہو تا۔مرنے سے پہلے ہی انکا فخرو غرور انکی آنکھوں کے سامنے خاک میں مل جاتا ہے۔

Rate this:

Read more "Maghroor Logon Ki Aik Khaas Qism"