musings …

December 2015

Last night I was lost in reading and forgot to look at the time. Finally, when I raised my head, it was 2 in the morning. Another late night despite my repeated promises to sleep early, I get lost in time. Collecting my things, I went to my room and while I was connecting my phone and the tablet to their chargers, the window opening on the east side, lit up for a moment. Car lights? But if it was a car, it was super silent. Then there was something else too. This window opens to our backyard and between our house and the houses on the other side, there is a big lake in between. No one has yet tried to drive a car on this lake … I looked through the blinds and was blinded by the brightness of the moon. “ kabhi kabhi aakhri tarikhon ka chaand chodhven key chaand sey ziyada roshan hota haiy” My nani ma said once while telling us a story. So how my window was illuminated? I will not even guess. Maybe there is a thing going between us – the moon and I. And on this night the Moon was in the mood for some friendly baat cheet !! I strongly believe that the universe is in constant dialogue:

کائینات میں کوئی بھی شے خاموش نہیں
کائینات بولتی ہے ، سنتی اور سوچتی بھی ہے
زمین اور آسمان کے بیچ کون کس کی بات سن رہا ہے ،
ہمکلام ہے ،
کوئی نہیں جانتا
مگر وہ جو مکالمے میں ہے ۔


We all are responsible for our deeds – misdeeds. If I do not like something , can I blame someone else for my dislikings? Again, if a Moulvi does something bad, can I say that it was because of religion so I will stop practicing this religion.! Going back to the example of Mahmood and Ayaz, I would say that the beauty of religion was to bring a king and his slave standing shoulder to shoulder. After the congregation, how a king treats his servant is his individual behavior.
And if it was below dignity , or the servant was treated inhumanely, how can anyone blame religion for this misconduct?
A short, short story .
Desire at heels.
I wanted to say, yes I feel, I feel all that you say, whisper, or send to me on the waves. It turns my knees to jelly. No, you do not know how I feel or what it does to me.
He laughed.
That booming, hearty laughter that always sent the birds in the trees to terror stricken flight.
Can these be good opening lines?
She didn’t reply.
Are you sulking?
At what ?
I do not know.
He kept thinking .
They both went after their thoughts.
Riffat Murtaza
Orlando night

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