Chal Uth.

 This too shall pass. All that needs to be done is to let go. You know it, You know it well. Its simple. Let go and see how your life improves. The difference between moving on and staying stuck is of letting her go. She was an amazing part of your life. Made you feel loved and amazing but this is the end. Its done. She was yours once but it aint so no more. She made you happy once but it aint so no more. You have taken way longer than it was supposed to take. 10 Months. Too long. Start healing. Start doing better. Its done. Move On!  

Regret

 

actions reactions, reactions then sorrow
time is the thing we, wish we could borrow
if i get a chance i, would not do this again
would fertile my soul, this empty barren plain

those horrible sights, those thorns beneath the flowers
these sleepless nights, these long lasting hours
what have i done to ever diserve this?
i might be dumb, but ignorance is no bliss

i have suffered enough, wish this could stop now
the life seems tough, its time i finally bow
i remember the words; they haunt me at night
"don't do this to youself; it will be a plight...

...pay no heed to this sadness, for soon it'll be over
happiness is around the corner; let the veil take its time
for everything good, will finally come alas
patience my friend, soon it'll pass."

Wohi

 Zamana tou chal raha hai, per tum kyun tham gaye ho?

Wohi halaat hain pyaaray, hakim bhi wohi hain, mazloom bhi wohi.

Qaseeda parhtay thay jinka tum raat din, faiz bhi wohi hain, jalib bhi wohi.

Per Nigah tumhaari kisi aur simt hai maazay, warna takhta bhi wohi hai, qalm bhi wohi.

Ye jaan lena k ye;

Soch hai tou tum hou.

Ehsaas hai tou tum hou. 

Izhaar hai tou tum hou.

Alfaaz hai tou tum hou.

زمانہ تو چل رہا ہے ، پر تم کیوں تھم گئے ہو ؟

وہی حالات ہیں پیارے ، حاکم بھی وہی ہیں ، مظلوم بھی وہی .

قصیدہ پڑھتے تھے جن کا تم رات دن ، فیض بھی وہی ہیں ، جالب بھی وہی .

پر نگاہ تمھاری کسی اور سمت ہے مازای ، ورنہ تختہ بھی وہی ہے ، قلم بھی وہی .

یہ جان لینا کے یہ ;

سوچ ہے تو تم ہو .

احساس ہے تو تم ہو .

اظہار ہے تو تم ہو .

الفاظ ہے تو تم ہو .

Aba jan

 

Abhi kal raat ko hi ki thi khuda say iltija
Aye khuda sun lay meri dua. inhay sakoon dila
Kab say mazoor hain, rotay hain bin ansu k
Dila day inko in ki naikiyon ka sila. Inhain Sakoon dila



Its been a month. And i stay awake recalling that night over and over again. Was i really that stupid?no no, stupid aint the word. Insensitive. Pathetic. A heartless monster. These suit me well. See thats what hindsight does. Make you regret your actions. And its due to this event and this event only that i no longer a fan of it. What hell he went through, it were only a few who witnessed it. I still remember that night vividly. Asking myself if i would pull a plug on him or not? How heartless of me. But at that moment it was a genuine question. I knew what he had been through  and what he will continue to go through

5 minute ki jhalki

Ye khabrain, zulm aur afsaanay

Ye panch minute ki jhalki hai

Yahan sabeeh aa jatay hain

Yahan tou tum bhi aaoo gay

Do bol khushi k gaao gay

phir lambay gam sunao gay

Phir agli jhalki aaye gi

Pichli kou "qissa" banaaye gi

Phir kya bana yan kyun huwa?

Sab bhool bhula k jaye gi.

Phir zainab, baloch yan mangi ho

Yan aglay aanay waali ho

Sab 5 minute ki jhalki hai

Phir agli mirchi chalti hai.

Phir kya bana yan kyun huwa?

Sab bhool bhulai jaati hai.

Ham andar say sab murda hain

Matti k banay bas putla hain.

Baatain buhat si kartay hain

Kyun, kya, kab; sab batlaatay hain

Per phir jab agli jhalki aati hai

Aur ham Sab kuch bhulaa jaatay hain.

یہ خبریں ، ظلم اور افسانے

یہ پانچ منٹ کی جھلکی ہے

یہاں سب ہی آ جاتے ہیں

یہاں تو تم بھی آئو گے

دو بول خوشی کے گاؤ گے

پِھر لمبے غم سناؤ گے

پِھر اگلی جھلکی آئے گی

پچھلی کو " قصہ " بنائے گی

پِھر کیا بنا یا کیوں ہُوا ؟

سب بھول بھلا کے جائے گی

پِھر زینب ، بلوچ یا مانگی ہو

یا اگلے آنے والی ہو

سب پانچ منٹ کی جھلکی ہے

پِھر اگلی مرچی چلتی ہے

پِھر کیا بنا یا کیوں ہُوا ؟

سب بھول بھلائی جاتی ہے

ہَم اندر سے سب مردہ ہیں

مٹی کے بنے بس پتلا ہیں . 

باتیں بہت سی کرتے ہیں

کیوں ، کیا ، کب ; سب بتلااتے ہیں

پر پِھر جب اگلی جھلکی آتی ہے

 اور ہَم سب کچھ بھلا جاتے ہیں.

Curiosity

For curiosity or whatever, I had to ask;

Why do men do, what they do?

They rape women, children and men too. They do.

Kill for money for power for lust too. They do.

Pollute air, water and land too. They do.

The curiosity provoked me and into this abyss i fell;

For I abuse too, to be loved.

For I butcher too, to be heard.

For I taint too, I do.

Because I do too, what they do.

-Ahmad Moaz

"Tumhara pathar ka hai kyun dil?"

Jangalaat ko jalaa kar ham dhuwaan uraa rahay hain.

kashmiriyon k khoon say ham holi manaa rahay hain.

6 saal k bachay k badlay rupiye 600 bacha rahay hain.

Bas is sab main ham be-shaq insaan ki fitrat dikha rahay hain.

Phir puchtay ho k "tumhara pathar ka hai kyun dil?"

Khuwaab.

Thori dair lagi aankh khulnay main
Us darakht k beej ko bunnay main
Jab khuwaab ko apnay chor diya
Phir sakoon mila sach sunnay main

K khaali haath main betha hun
Is andheray ki aar main rehta hun
Per jald hi aankh khulay gi apni
Is khuaab say jaan churray gi apni

Wo khuaab k jis nay cheer diya
jeenay ka maqsad cheen liya
Wo khuaab k jis nay aas dilayi
Jis aas nay dil be taab kiya

Wo khuaab jo sirf aik jhoot tha
Zehan ki roshni ka loot tha
Jis khuaab main zarkhaizi thi
Wo khuaab nahi koi bhoot tha

تھوڑی دیر لگی آنکھ کھلنے میں

اس درخت کے بیج کو بننے میں 

جب خواب کو اپنے چھوڑ دیا 

پھر سکوں ملا سچ سننے میں 

کے خالی ہاتھ میں بیٹھا ہوں

اس اندھیرے کی آڑ میں رہتا ہوں 

پر جلد ہی آنکھ کھلنے گی اپنی 

اس خواب سے جان چھوٹے گی اپنی 

وہ خواب کے جس نے چھیڑ دیا

جینے کا مقصد چھین لیا

وہ خواب کے جس نے آس دلائ

جس آس نے دل بے تاب کیا

وہ خواب جو صرف ایک جھوٹ تھا 

ذہن کی روشنی کا لوٹ تھا

جو خواب بہت زرخیز ت ھا

وہ خواب نہیں کوئی بھوت تھا

Laminar.

Been riding in these gushes of wind.
Never cared for the destination.
Enjoying the stops every now and then.
Taking in the light without hesitation.

Who would've known id not last long.
The rays burned me inside.
Exterior seemed normal and strong.
But the former couldn't hide.

How are these heights daunting yet calm.
These winds a source of warmth yet cold.
The system is broken, could it be?
Or it never existed? seems to me.

The questions they run through my head.
Embedded with hatred and deceit instead.
Not the good ones, about me and you.
Love and purity or anything true.  

Damned.

Lately I've been having a hard time recognizing my purpose. I feel lost. Like all the things that i had thought i would be are becoming more like a vague memory. The distance between me and my goals are increasing exponentially. The potential that i once had has just vanished jnto thin air and it seems i am not really good at anything. With all of this, the only thing that is actually increasing is my lust for appreciation. For some reason without doing anything at all, i want to be given a reward. Someone telling me that i am doing a great job knowing all too well that i have done nothing at all.

Writing used to be a way out, an opening or a door to my inner peace. But door has somehow become too heavy for me to push and open. 

A broken reflection

The brain not used is rotten , that is what it seems mine is.

The body without a heart is auton, that is what it seems mine is.

The people not met are forgotten, that is what it seems i am.

My soul though bleeds often, but normal is what it seems i am.