I want rains, lots of rains – non stop rains. On my roof, against my windows, and hear it falling; falling  beyond the glass doors. Looking –  just looking at it falling. Lying still – under the blanket – just looking, just listening – not thinking. But what is there to think? All the words wrapped in a bundle, have long left.
There is nothing happening – waiting to happen but not happening. So there!!

This year the famine in Damishq was bad. So bad that people even forgot love … لوگ بھول گئے ۔۔۔ محبت کرنا بھول گئے   who said that? Who was that sage? Sa’adi? Oh yes Sa’adi.

They have forgotten, they don’t care what love is, he laments. What life is without love ۔۔۔ اب کے برس دمشق میں بڑا کال پڑا، اتنا کہ لوگ بھول گئے ۔ محبت کرنا بھول گئے۔ محبت کے جیسا لطیف جذبہ؟ محبت کی باتیں ، محبت کی نظر ،محبت سے گلے لگانا ٓ بھول گئے ، سب بھو گئے

And across the oceans, the story continues. They have famine for years now. But this famine is of a different kind.
Every morning they bring out their hope, wipe its face clean, and holding it close to heart they go out looking for life and come back at night. Hope dead, darkness another shade darker and they silently descend in their dark holes, avoiding hungry eyes, burning – burning white, burning wide, staring in the darkness, bulging out of sockets. Another hungry night before another day of famine sets over the towns – fangs,teeth,claws,talons and shrieking contests.
What is one supposed to do if not ….

“chunaN qehet saale …. ?
framoosh kerdand ishq ? “
بھول گئے ، محبت کرنا بھول گئے؟

I want rains. Rains, up the towns, down the vales – rains. To wipe clean the dirt hanging in the air, the blackened hearts, the soul dredged with soot,  making them sparkling clean

And then love will return.