Smallest coffins are the heaviest.

All PTI suckers, please excuse any derogatory interpretation out of this.

Beloved Imran,

You talk about Naya Pakistan and all sorts of bullshit associated to it? Do us a favor, give us the Old Pakistan back--the one that Jinnah made. Whether it was a right decision or wrong, factually, he made a state. We lost it to scoundrels. And then more scoundrels. And just when we thought we have found hope, we realized the clown on the podium is you.

An impeccable blindfold is tied onto the eyes of the awam. But I think there are those, and then some who can tell black from white, and oil from vinegar. You can go ahead and create a Naya Pakistan once you discharge your responsibility that you so boisterously achieved. You want to build a Naya Pakistan? Well, charity begins at home. What to talk of anything when the least bit that was required was providing security to a school in Peshawar? And then you want to start walking the footsteps of a "Naya Pakistan" from outside of the President House in Islamabad, and then grab a niche to famous spot in Lahore, then trot to Karachi and shut the city down?

You piece of uber shit, the walk begins from STREET LEVEL. Stop swinging in and out of the cabinet. Take some onus of fulfilling what was required of you. And then we can shed some light on the "Naya Pakistan" the nation so desperately awaits. Enough talking has been done, with the Talibans, as well as on the containers. It's time some practical implication needs to be imposed.

All PTI fanatics, do me a favor, open your eyes. I know, my views will hurt many. But politics is never a crunchy apple. If one side is so vibrant, the other WILL be poisoned. Learn to tell the poison from the pure. And learn it, already.

Go, Imran, take the first train to where you are supposed to. Do what needs to be done. And then you can scream about "Naya Pakistan" and "Dhandlee" all you want. Take your drunk self off the container for once and feel liable for what the nation has lost--innocent souls.

Oh and before you go, do let us know how you plan to trot the red carpet on New Years' Eve this time, maybe with a whiskey over a round of "negotiations" with our misguided Taliban brothers, eh? 

Best,

A Pakistani DONE with your drama. 

This is a rant. Forgive me.

Can Imran Khan, for the love of all that is Holy, be at least even a little polite in his speeches? Honestly, if your speeches are making me cringe, rest assured, I would be reluctant to even accept whatever is right with your accusations.

Also, PMLN, "Aap sab ghar jayein, Imran Khan tou siyaasi khudkushi ker raha hai, waise hum muzaakraat ke liye tayaar hain" can be added to "A guide on what not to say in case you want negotiations 101."

I agree that the elections were rigged, I agree that the electoral process has a million loopholes and then some, but that is what parliaments are for, oh graduate of Oxford. You sit yourself down in the parliaments and you pass a bill and then you get the votes on it and then you proceed from there. There are two hundred ways to reform your electoral process, dharnas are the not one of them. Don't make me doubt your qualifications Imran.

Someone remind Saad Rafiq that he was caught rigging the elections, on camera. In the words of Captain America, "Son, just don't."

Imran Khan has turned Islamabad into the party capital of Asia, and well, "enjoyz lein" because if this government falls, that will be a solid step backwards for democracy. Stop with the resignation demand, heavens above, I beseech you. Aur yeh, "Pakistan democracy deserve nai kerta" waali awam, aapko apne ghar mei khush rahein.

It took you three days to form a negotiation committee, PMLN. And while the formation of a judiciary committee two days before the march, was rather clever and calculating of you, the entire country is still waiting on updates about it.

I understand if you don't support Imran Khan right now, but do you really, honestly and truly want to quote Maulana Fazl-ur-Rehman or Maryam Nawaz or Bilawal Bhutto as your defense? Do you REALLY?

There are a million reasons to disapprove of this march, "Loag naach rahe hain" or "Gaaney baj rahe hain" comes way down that list.

"He is standing in the rain, he leads from the front," waali baatein naa kerein. Karachi mein baarish hui tou aadhe sheher ne baahar aa ke khara hojana hai.

This isn't black and white and this isn't PMLN vs. PTI. 

I even understand where IK's sentiments are coming from. Nobody in their right minds would deny that the elections were rigged. But the electoral reform needs to be brought in through the parliament. If this government fails to complete its term, we will be dragged back to the politics of 1990s with Imran Khan cosplaying as Benazir Bhutto. Nobody wants that. 

Nawaz Sharif is as important in the government as Imran Khan is in the opposition. The country can not afford to lose this balance. Electoral reforms are needed, but they are supposed to come from the parliament. Nobody perfects democracy in the first attempt, but that doesn't mean you risk the system in an attempt to straighten it out.

Now that was definitely a rant. Forgive me.

The dust and haze--let it sway: Note to my dearest Captain!

Dear Captain,

As i begin to reiterate that I fully respect your intentions, trust your goals, and withhold massive veneration for your opinions, I beg to differ on a few fronts. Before I start quoting facts, kindly know that I am not one of those stubborns pro-PMLN driven jerks. Instead, I have swung numerously between staying a pro-PTI follower to neutralizing my views based on current affairs. Therefore, my resolve to support your motives but resent your means to avail them is a well-thought decision. 

First of all, I would like to question the very foundation of your party. Not that I was not aware of it before, but are you a democrat? I have my doubts. I did not raise this earlier because it was not laying contradictory to your actions. But now that the haze has vaporized and here we are under the shining sun, let us keep a few things in perspective. 

My dear captain, the party you are heading may be democratic. But what is ironic is that you are not, by any means a democrat. PTI is a full-blown democratic party but how is it that the very leader is a dictator? And while many of our fellow supporters will have a concrete response to this one, I would like you to crosscheck those responses with your current course of action.

Negotiations, peace talks and anything that shares any euphemism with a "round table conference" sounds futile to more than the most. Then how is it that your beloved highness was so pro-peace talks with our dear Taliban brothers, but wholly dismisses the idea of the same being implemented within your own chamber of government? What definition of democracy do you have to satisfy this with? 

Your objectives are undoubtedly passionately stirred with enthusiasm and sincerity for "the land of the pure", or should i say, "the land of the confused". What I miserably fail to fathom is the hurry out there. Oh yes! 18 years are far too long and while impatience may be capable of soaring to unknown heights, what is up with the emotional screenplay?

Now the brunt of your journey lies in the very means you have opted to achieve it. One of the many things should be on the table right now is knowing what you are getting your hands into. What the hell do you want? Do you want to cause disruption in your Federal Capital or show how pathetic and incapable of being called a leader our current Prime Minister is? Oh well, he is beyond incapable for that position but frankly, what is your deal?

Until last year, your agenda was those four constituencies be audited for rigging. Your current demand is that the Prime Minister should resign from the office. Are you facing any symptoms of bipolarity? Oh wait, is it tripolarity? What ballgame is that? A speech where you scream your lungs out and urge that the parliament begets to dissolution does not appear sane, to say the least. Nor is that a just cause. Park aside justice for a minute, it is abnormal. What do you possibly want the "awam" to make out of this? The fact that you want to come into power for the sake of Pakistan or that you want to overthrow the current regime and proclaim yourself the Prime Minister for the term to follow--what to believe? Because if you were aiming for the former to happen, then here is the good news. The army and the government have agreed that the 2013 elections will be scrutinized. Now, you can collect your troops to a junction and set your blind followers free. But why haven't you? Because that is just not what you want. Your deal is that Nawaz walks out of the office like your baby once did at the age of 6. It is not so simple, or is it? Actually, it is not, but that's how you exhibit it.

While i continue to respect your motives all the same, I find it baffling to ascertain how entering red zone was a mature stand. I may be losing my false teeth as you made those big plans, I would still like some insight on how instilling this strange sense of fear among the populace was a wise call. Are you in a blindfold or do you think the population is bound by it? How is it that one can turn a leaf upon the stark visibility of the scenario expounding no benefits for anyone but our Army. How is it that you expect or even think the awam to not see that through and through? If you fail to act your age or exercise any semblance of it, do not expect the awam to fall for the same. The fact is that your party is working under pretext of the Army. So, is Pakistan your goal or the army's? Though I would still cut you some slack based on your track record hoping that you can still be trusted, i fail to envisage how polarizing the city into a plague of nasty mushrooms justifies it? How assertive of you to breed grounds for the army to kick-in, but right before that happens, scream to the media and issue a so-called "warning" for the Prime Minister that if the army does exercise control, the stake is on them. Actually, I'm impressed! "Woah, you inexperienced little brat", says a voice in my head to myself.

I am seemingly one of those from this nation who fail to see your greatness and glorified tactics that impart one thing, exhibit another and produce a third version of the first two. What is different about us is that I see York, Bastille, March of Women to Versailles and the great French revolution as components of history and I condemn this to repeat itself at the pace we are at. It is ridiculous and unattractive.

Before I conclude, know that I am still hanging onto some hope and I desire it to come from you. I am one of those incapable minds who have lost sight to appreciate your intelligence. Now is the time, give me a reason to cherish my spectrum of fancies in form of your abounding intellect and a preserved Pakistan!

As I once was among the impeccable blindfold you have tied,

A Pakistani Sick of Tantrums

Black And White

Excitement as high as Mount Titlis, the atmosphere as loud as Nirvana, energy soaring like a stalk of whipped asparagus, Martin stepped home driven with felicity. He cascaded upon his favorite recliner and reminisced over the memories of the past few days. Life had not been so friendly before, nor were the circumstances so germane.

Few seconds of silence elapsed and Martin had no argument to encounter his own feelings with. They were far too strong and blooming from within to have bridged the gaps in his mind. All he knew was the fresh breeze blustering outside of his hood. The moon was shining in all its eminence, the night sky was dark though felt as if it was welcoming him into its fragrance. He began pouring the much craved wine in his favorite beautifully engraved crystal goblet and lit his chosen cigar that worth a king's ransom.

Excitement now shot skyrocket. Few minutes of serenity concluded rowdily. The instant of compassion evaded to meaninglessness and the dominating state of achievement transformed to bewilderment. The fireplace situated behind Martin's recliner emitted a baffling smoke that eventually grabbed every hollow space in the room. The atmosphere as loud as nirvana swished into effluvium causing him to faint as his energy withered. By this time, the smoke had readily heated the room to ravage more than one fancy items that existed. No, not the atypical fumes discharged by the fireplace. This time, it was Martin's cigar worth an arm and a leg, that lay at no distance from the exuberant goblet that beget the delicate glass smash to bits. It did seem as if it really costed him an arm and a leg, did it not?

He lay torpid on the rug in the room all night and opened eyes, the next morning. It wasn't just daybreak, but he opened eyes to change. Yes, change in form of withdrawal from excitement. The windows, mirrors and any other form of glass that were placed in the room were encapsulated in a drape of fog. The clueless lad dazed at the blur surfaces of each of them. Decrepit, he made his steps towards the recliner and the broken goblets. The next thing he touched was the window sill and the glass that mirrored his own image once his finger wiped the haze off.

The protagonist now stood firmly and gazed at his own shadow. Devoid of excitement surrounded by the distasteful atmosphere and minimal energy though, the clueless lad was no longer clueless. In fact, he withdrew from excitement only to be able to see his own self in black and white.

Contemplate, before it is too late. Withdrawal symptoms may be steep in terms of expense. Martin was only spellbound by the striking light that shone upon his eyes. It did not brighten his vision but only blocked what lay across.

Traverse through the bolt no matter how jarring it may be. Suffering a setback felt excruciating, just as Martin knew it to be.

Terminus

Worshipping and cherishing has a thin line. A line that is often blurred by the stream of emotions one finds themself in. A line that manifests a boundary but also blurs it to grow in intensity. A line that results to magnify dignity yet restricts it to morals based merely on perception. A line that defines yet denies all sense into nonsense, all logic into illogic and all wisdom into wonders wholly unsolicited, unasked, unsaid.

Cherishing generally has a boundary of sight. Whereas worship is a wonder. It inflates and often diminishes the foundation that separates it from the former. It took me several years to understand and a few instances to witness the difference between the two. To come to cherish is to love, but to worship is to vanish in the fallacies. 

The greatest glory is not in never falling, but rising every time you fall. But glory does not align to worship. Because worship is immortal. Worship is inextinguishable. Worship is immutable. Worship is forever abiding. It is funny because we claim love to be all the same, with it upholding all the very traits of endlessness, perdurance and indestruction. Then what is to love? Then what is to cherish? What is to delineate the divorce between the two?

There are many who we adore. A fewer that we admire. And even fewer who we love, and love not to worship, but to cherish. 

Fire is strong and has the ability to destroy come what may. But a downpour is stronger. It contains just what the fire needs to extirpate. Therefore, live to love, to cherish; not to worship. Worship to love what you know is worth the praise. 

Obliterate the flames of worship with the power of love. Cherish the power of love to chirp the absolution it brings, in fact, and not the delicacy that worship often accompanies. 

This to that one person I have always taken pride in worshipping. In all these years, I have worshipped him to cherish every second. But a superlative form of worship explains one to love to cherish, not dissipate in the sensitivity of worship. 

Love until you heart is beating. Let the magic occur after it stops. 

You are my secret ♡

Love lies in great places, being one to talk here, a confession would be to put it in perspective. But how often love traverses from dormantly inlaid specifications to subtle and then heart-throbbing, overbearing riddles can be a surprise. Come what may, love happens, if it is to and while grief accompanies most stages of its odyssey, it is alone an armor that is worth standing for. 

Expected none of the above to happen to me, yet it being done in the most graceful of ways. Expected none of it to not only emerge yet it it being done on such testing platforms, in the oddest of hours; making it only purer, sweeter and more realistic. Often the concept attached to such devotion is one of disbelief, misgivings and wrongdoings, but it happens outside the chamber of a calligraphic signature. It sees no boundary to how the hands of a clock move. It may qualify for an abuse, yet using it so makes it no different--no more, no less. 

How can an emotion so seraphic define a length of time, a location of sorts and societal boundaries. It is becoming for an affection to be questioned. After all, that is what tests it up and downhill. But while at it, it is also an unbiased form of purity. It can be wrong in the eyes of the world, yet so right. It can be subscribed to no ambit of governance under society, yet become a societal cult for all the same.

Love is the music the brings feelings to bloom. It may bury under the sands of time; but it perdurable to all throes of seizure. Although it is just as malignant to dubiety, but has the perseverance to endure paroxysm.

It is capable of going adrift. But while the rendition of it is sincere, it does not cross the great divide. 

Overdose

Fabricate evidence against Iraq and attack it to the point of no return. Freedom and equality preserved? Check.

Al Qaeda is the biggest threat to humanity. Destroy Afghanistan as a result. Freedom and equality preserved? Check.

Terrorists crawling everywhere which gives us the right to drone innocent people in Pakistan. Boom. Freedom and equality preserved? Check.

They said they'd wipe Israel of the map, WUT? Blacklist Iran and threaten to attack. Freedom and equality preserved? Check.

[Country which shall never be named] is in the process (and has been for a while now) of wiping Palestine off the map and we shall do nothing but sit here and pretend as though we have greater problems to deal with (which we do actually but to this, we will pretend as though there are even greater problems). Freedom and hypocrisy intact? Check. CHECK.

Oh! United States and United Nations: what good are you to the world except for the principles of ridiculousness and sheer hypocrisy you bring?

God damn the Israeli government to the lowest levels of hell. And to hell with all the political correctness that goes with being expected of this issue too; like all others that are only taken seriously to the point of condemnation, and condemnation alone.

I'm a prodigy

The night embraced the twilight and plunged into a pitch dark valley with absolute termination of sounds. She drifted into slumber only to see what she had foreseen all her life. Ever since she was an infant, she wanted to hurtle into the sky and be known as one of those birds or airplanes that traverse celestially. As a child, she wanted to jump and clutch the light that the chandelier on the ceiling emitted. As a girl, she only wanted to seize the empire, the universe. As a lady, she wanted to empower the kingdom, one step at a time. And now, as a woman, she knew what she was worth. But what irked her most was the meaningless redundancy attached to any and every process in the world at present.

She does want to blink again, emerge into wakefulness, widen her eyes and absorb come what may. But in a kingdom that makes sense linguistically, holistically, and socially. 

When daybreak appears, she wants to grasp the shades that spiral her breath into a trance and blooms her smile, radiates her mind, reverberates her soul and fashions her pragmatism. 

When moonlight emerges, she wants to be the one to eye the depth of luster through her naked eyes.

But what holds her behind? What keeps her afar from destination?

It’s a maze, where she is waywardly moving in a labyrinth. Albeit she is bereft of a vehicle that mechanizes her movement, she is still commuting in between the state of being in between. While she is at it, she is rotating in a spineless spiral.

It’s funny that a woman who confronted a halo every now and then is now steering in spiral. It is funnier because someone who has not believed in the much perceived norms of nature and society is now twirling in a coil of the preamble of those very preconceived notions.

While she wants to swish all those tall buildings and bridges and flyovers into fire, she is hurdled by the very structure she is living in—a structure that has defined her for so long. In fact, not only a structure but a regulating body.

As she continues to emerge in kip, or shares a slight semblance to observing any euphemism close to it, the world only gets wilder. Wilder, not in terms of atmosphere, but in terms of measuring time. 

Time: has uncontrollably flown, faster than the waves of the ocean, and thundered louder than the clouds. 

However, besides the passage of time, what uncovered while her eyes were shut was not what she had foreseen. 

She foresaw a kingdom where rules would be first tested, and then implemented. She envisaged an edifice of rituals, customs, morals, ethics, and laws strengthening the nucleus. 

She envisioned an institution, with proper hierarchical supremacy and justice to prevail.

She predicted a world that did not disintegrate but integrate finality and meaning, instead of meaningless redundancy of cosmic coincidences.

While she still devoted in slumber, she did not want to awake to a kingdom that would be flawless; instead worthwhile.  

In her castle of cards picketers still conformed to evil, and pilgrims still repented for their sins. Traffic lights continually glimmered, and the signals were rendered crowded than ever. Nonetheless, she wanted to embrace the confidence that contrived her to become a prodigy.

She awaited the rising sun, and then it to set every evening. She anticipated the stars in their full luster, and then to see them shine over her soul every night. She fancied the full moon and its sight, and yearned for it every fourteenth twilight. 

As much as she required the dawn to subserve, she also wanted to drive out of the maze of chaos. As much as she longed for the radiance of astral powers, she also wanted them to beget in the most systematic of attitudes.

She wanted to perfect completion, not attain perfection in fact. She coveted the kingdom to replenish through proper restoration of hierarchy, but in fact did not want to be the selfish ruler of it.

She had the thirst to swish a flick not because she desired so, but because she knew she was apt for it. She did not require the authority to do so, but only etched for an invisible getaway of seraph. She was a prodigy. 

She will set eyes on the red dawn and its opulence through mutiny and revolution; not by an ordinary aurora. 

She drowsed through slumber only to find an overbearing doorway to the ordeal. But she would wake up just before the mountains collapse, the sun explodes, the stars perish and the sky falls. 

All these moments engaged in slumber are witness to her conviction. Her grace will raise her to affix the collapsing mountains, extinguish the exploding sun, preserve the perishing stars and withhold the falling sky. No matter how far stretched this state of rest be, she will stir to become what she is meant to be.

No sooner, she will rise to be the voracious voice of reason unseen.

No sooner, she will rise to be the prodigy that she has always been.

Our Government at its best.

What is our Government best at?

Yes, our Government is best at shutting down things, instead of taking a haul and actually get to the street level to analyze issues.

From shutting YouTube, to debating whether Geo should prevail or be banned from Pakistan--from 2012 to 2014, there is absolutely NOTHING these guys have learned.

Learning. What about it? We need to learn to not jump to hasty conclusions and premature decisions. May those begin from VoIP being demanded to block itself all over Sindh, and then exploding like a blast that it cannot be implemented in just one province. Rude as it may sound, I would not be shocked if VoIP had been blocked across the country, just to keep militants off Sindh. But never mind, I was quoting only an example. By hasty conclusions, I mean to bring to your notice the decisions about 'banning' various things.

But how would they? They need a brain, and anyone with HALF a brain would. But the question is, do they even have quarter of a brain or not?

Our Government has predominantly absconded from any and every situation that has had the need to be DEALT with. All they do is 'condemn' and well, shutting down YouTube, or Geo, for that matter, is just another form of condemnation.

All of the above, I have detested to the core. Always have, always will.

Faced with the question of what I think since I am a media person, is an interesting thought to hold onto. If media is my bread and butter, shutting down Geo would mean emanating the media.

HOWEVER, more than others, the responsibility of media persons (inclusive of myself) is greater to ensure that the media does what it is SUPPOSED to do. And even though shutting it down would mean emanating it; us, as media persons have to either stand for it or against it. Yes, we are not being selfish as our government is. We tend to widen our thoughts in the best interest of the "awam" and most importantly, Pakistan.

Therefore, for whatever Geo is doing, I stand against the channel. And yes, whatever they are showing needs to stop, but NOT the way our glorious Government is approaching it.

Ever heard of reaching the grass root level, followed by necessary action?

My friends, the media is supposed to state facts for the people, investigate, analyze and show direction; NOT form opinions or tarnish the already existing ones. Please ensure that it does, ONLY, what it is entitled to do. Question what is right as to why, and question what is not right, as to why not. And then, LET the "awam" decipher a conclusion of their own. Anyone with HALF a brain can; I am sure they have the other half too though.

I reiterate, opinion formation is the job of the awam. Let them do their job and we will do ours. While our Oscar-deserving politicians shall sit on the throne and see the country distill into a melting pot; or to my hope, are they playing any differently this time around? That is, actually getting some WORK done. Yes, that is exactly what I am talking about.

Every profession you enter, you need to ensure it doesn't become a curse (or humorously, butt of the joke) for others through causal measures. If at all media is becoming a menace, we should all unite and work towards it. We are OUR own solicitors.

Shutting a channel down doesn't help, you see? Shut down the source of what's causing it to be what it is: a menace, a disgrace and a source of abhorrence for the "awam".

Just because I feel saying this was not enough, I will say it again. Yes, my dear Government, I hereby save you the hassle of scrolling up so here you go: I would, and SHOULD be the first to stand against evil, if Geo is pulling off any, for that matter. My duty towards achieving this equilibrium, to uphold the prime motive of what the media is designed to do, is greater than anyone else.

Dear Government, you are confronted with YET another opportunity, in form of another issue to stand your ground and show us what you are capable of. Do NOT let this countenance go to waste.

Use it, do not abuse it.

We need it, and only the Lord knows how much.

Stop collecting scapegoats and smoking guns--just get to work while the metallic throne is yours. Because someone once told me, "the only helping hand you have is at the end of your own arm."

Even though opportunity for our beloved Mr. Prime Minister has knocked the third time; a sincere opportunity knocks but once.

Cure the infection that you think Geo may be causing, don't run towards amputation. Because whoever initiated Geo had some thought behind his action. Guard their sanctity and intent, dear Government. That is what you are supposed to do.

As a media person, I vow to guard, and uphold the sanctity of what I am supposed to do, in the best interest of the "awam" and my country.

My passion is my profession; my profession is my religion; my religion is my pride. Please do not suck the last drop of faith my heart is still holding onto.

Pakistan is mine, yours...ours to own. Own it, embrace it, ace it!

We either reach out for too much light, or shield ourselves from it.
We are being of extremes. 

Life: it goes on.

It was raining that day. At first it felt like it was simply raining, not because of what had happened. One of those strange days when the wind carries a smell of wet sand and the sun peaks through the dense layer of clouds! You step out of the college building and find yourself wet from tip to toe and in the next moment, you find yourself standing in bright sunlight. “They broke up”, was the chant of the day. Our little college building, once located in the centre of the busy city now found itself into the isolated town where everything was always under development. The most repeated catch phrase in this part of the town is: “What goes up must always come down!” However catchy this phrase was, it perfectly suited the situation. How can both of them break up, how can something so absolute cease to be so absolute all of a sudden. The first day, everyone on campus was talking about it. The second day, I witnessed confused faces and on the third day, there was complete blankness. In the upcoming weeks, each and every one will try putting the pieces back together. Some will slip notes under their dorm rooms, some will try making them realize as to how perfect they were. Some of us will be imaging crazy scenarios of both of them making up and some will actually try to implement those scenarios. Then there will be those optimists, people who don’t like the things as they are, people who always want their glasses full. Since both of them are single now, this kind of people will attack them like vultures, destroying every chance of them coming back together. These vultures will try to restore order through chaos, something that never quite works out! In our little college building, which is completely deserted by the people of the busy city, in a part of the town where it is always raining, where every one of us know that our lives amount to almost nothing. We live and we die, we come to this little building and we learn that whatever we learn or do will play no significant part, the wheels of life will keep turning in the same direction as they always have been. We are buried in the small cemetery besides the little building. A cemetery so small, that each grave is dug up to at least twenty times, no one even knows as to which layer of ground they will find themselves in when they stop breathing. We live in a world of meaninglessness, yet as proud romantics we look for a meaning, anything to cling on, absolutely anything to pin our hopes onto. Some sort of reassurance that the world is somehow in balance. Now that I think of it, I am absolutely certain that when I heard of them breaking up is the exact moment when it started raining that day.

Decay.
Photo Courtesy: Self.

Darkness is in fact, the absence of light.

This anecdote goes out to all those people who don't believe in God at all: the atheists, scientologists etc, I still can't understand what they base their beliefs on.

The university professor challenged his students with this question. "Did God create everything that exists?" A student bravely replied, "Yes, He did!" "God created everything?" The professor asked. Yes sir", the student replied. The professor answered, "If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principal that our works define who we are, then God is evil".

The student became quiet before such an answer. The professor, quite pleased with himself, boasted to the students that he had proven once more that the faith on God was a myth. Another student raised his hand and said, "Can I ask you a question professor?"

"Of course", replied the professor. The student stood up and asked, "Professor, does cold exist?"

"What kind of question is this? Of course it exists. Have you never been cold?" The students snickered at the young man's question.

The young man replied, "In fact sir, cold does not exist. According to the laws of physics, what we consider cold is in reality the absence of heat. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (- 460 degrees F) is the total absence of heat; all matter becomes inert and incapable of reaction at that temperature. Cold does not exist. We have created this word to describe how we feel if we have no heat."

The student continued, "Professor, does darkness exist?"

The professor responded, "Of course it does."

The student replied, "Once again you are wrong sir, darkness does not exist either. Darkness is in reality the absence of light. Light we can study, but not darkness. In fact we can use Newton's prism to break white light into many colors and study the various wavelengths of each color. You cannot measure darkness. A simple ray of light can break into a world of darkness and illuminate it. How can you know how dark a certain space is? You measure the amount of light present. Isn't this correct? Darkness is a term used by man to describe what happens when there is no light present."

Finally the young man asked the professor, "Sir, does evil exist?" Now uncertain, the professor responded, "Of course as I have already said. We see it every day. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil."

To this the student replied, "Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is not like faith, or love that exist just as does light and heat. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light."

The professor sat down.

The young man's name --- Albert Einstein

Condemning Condemnation

Dear Government Of Pakistan,

I would like to take you away from your daily ritual of sending out condemnation messages for just a few minutes, and highlight to you what it is about your ridiculous indifference that irks me the most.

I have seen, during the course of my life, nations go to war against entire regions because of an attack on their sovereignty and people. I have seen planes fly into buildings, train stations go up in flames and as a result, entire nations have been brought to the ground, and millions been massacred, all in the name of one thing: security.

Nations with self-respect tend to care about this term called 'security', but recently, it seems to have evaded us completely.

I wonder why that is?

Remember the phrase "Actions speak louder than words"? We are taught at a very young age not to promise what we cannot deliver. Not to speak when it doesn't mean anything. And to 'act' rather than to 'say', because in acting on your intentions lies true goodness. Words are meaningless if you do not harbor the capacity to fulfill them.

Then why is it that everytime someone fires a drone at us, or renders our Mosques Shaheed or shoots our civilians or murders our ideals, you sit back and issue a statement which either 'condemns' it, or better still "strongly" condemns it.

It seems to me as if this is all we elected you people to do: Condemn all that's wrong, and master the art of condemning it with newer methods so as to add a little bit of variety into your day to day messages.

The problem my friends, is simple: for a country like Pakistan, condemnation just isn't enough. Because it gets really old, really fast. The reason for this, is because everyday brings us a new attack, and takes away one more person who will breathe again.

How is it that nations like the USA would be (and are) willing to go to war at the drop of a hat (or oil, as is mostly the case with them), everytime they feel "threatened", but we in Pakistan are showing so much resilience to the blood thirsty enemies which devour us from within?

We are engulfed in a problem so massive, that everyone in government (and opposition) has started to imitate what I personally feel might be their favorite animal: the ostrich.

Every single time there is an attack or a blast or any other catastrophe, all I have to do is check my phone for news, and sure enough, there it is: a message from my favorite people, the PM and President, 'condemning' it. It became slightly more interesting recently when even our other prominent 'leaders' started to follow suit and tweet their "sincerest" grief and condolences on social media as well, no doubt going back to lying in bed straight after THAT formality was completed.

Why do I sound so irked by your attitude, dear Government? Let me tell you why. Because thousands of people like myself also only put ourselves out there on social media sites to express our grief and sadness at these events, and we do this because we do not have the power in our own hands to do anything more about the dire situation itself. No one gave me 170,000 votes and instilled their faith in me, and told me to go and save the country, which is why I'm not standing in that Provincial Assembly or National Assembly and doing so. But had I actually had the opportunity to do what you politicians can? I can sit here and passionately state with utmost conviction that I would be a doing a MUCH better job of it. Anyone with even half a brain would.

It isn't alright to sit back and watch as an ENTIRE ethnicity is wiped out by attacks on their places of worship and residential areas. It isn't alright to brush everything under the carpet just by stating that you "condemn" it and throw out useless rhetoric stating that you 'feel' the pain of those who have lost family and friends to these barbaric attacks. You don't understand. You can't even begin to understand. But you CAN stop it. Believe or not, that's why we elected you.

So then why? Why only just condemn? And when you, our government, shows up on the media occasionally and says "we need time", "these situations can't be resolved overnight", I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, I do. I want to genuinely believe you when you say that you are doing your best to solve what is fast becoming the country's deadliest security situation till date.

But then you go and disappoint me in the blink of an eye, by giving expensive birds as presents to foreign friends, and slapping innocent coach attendees, instead of doing your jobs.

You indulge in bringing to trial past dictators, whilst in the background, the civilians who voted you into power are having their limbs blown off.

I am not saying that one situation should be completely ignored whilst giving prominence to another. What I am saying however, is that with so much 'experience' with regards governance under your belt, should this government not have mastered the art of multitasking?

A man who was previously the leader of the opposition is now the Interior Minister of Pakistan. Should he not put his money where his mouth is and actually make good on all the criticisms he accorded the previous government with? You now have the opportunity to change things. Please..change them.

This is YOUR time to 'shine', dear government of Pakistan. What are you waiting for?

Because even though you've become equivalent to that maggot-infested plank of wood floating in the middle of the ocean, the one that no one wants to touch, you're still all we can turn to for help. And Lord only knows much we need it.

Sometimes I genuinely feel like harsh words and criticism are all that will get to you, because apple-polishing sure hasn't.

I want to live in a country where "solving" something becomes more important than merely "condemning" it.

I want to live in a country where thug-like leaders can't get away with closing down entire cities, and where condemnation isn't all you have to give to a family who has lost a loved one in a "target killing".

I want to live in a country where I will wake up in the morning and feel the need to write something positive about it, as opposed to only feeling depressed by the body count of people that we've lost that day.

Most importantly, I want to live in a country, where even ONE condemnation message seems sincere.

Where even a single person who condemns an attack, or a loss, or any type of tragic occurrence actually stops to try and feel the pain it has caused someone else.

Condemning something is all well and good, as long as you follow it up with the promise that you won't ever have to condemn the occurrence of a similar situation again.

Till then? Stop condemning, and start fixing. 

Yours patriotically,

Ad Astra 

Arms of the angel

Ever known how it feels to have all the air sucked out of your belly and your lungs being rigorously at work, thinning to dismemberment. 

Ever felt those four walls around you shaking your skull and clenching the bones, transforming them into an excruciating aftermath. 

The sky, whose expanse once protected your fears, and covered them beautifully in between the lumped clouds, are now exposing you naked, while tears you sob travel south of your chin. 

That cloth you painted with colors, now shrinking, and drying with cracks on its surface. Ever experienced that rapid emergence of darkness as colors withered away? 

That sensation of disarm and disbelief that thickens your blood, or either forces it to rush too fast, or too slow. 

Have you been left open under the chill of nature, with your skin peeling off your body, and leaving it to tremble as the winds blow? 

Now I've taken that enough. I have taken that a lot. Those forty eight hours have shook the earth beneath my heels. 

Now, I'm waiting for my lungs to breathe fresh air as the sun shines upon me again. 

The rust, the itch, the ache--it all to go away, I await the bright light, new hopes, new roads.

The sky that is breaking hell on me to cover every single hair follicle on my body that is unguarded. 

Those forty eight hours have lasted too far, lasted too far. 

I'm waiting for the arms of the angel to hold me again. 

As my soul pleads for mercy, I beseech those warm arms of the angel to expand its wings on to me...

Turn your back to what you don't want to see.

Reflecting on what once rushed the nation's blood to fingertips: Pakistan's Political Migraine

Before the 11th of May, 2013, there was a sense of urgency growing amongst the populace, a sense of panic and understanding that it was either ‘now or never’.

Before the 11th of May, Pakistan was encapsulated in a blanket of fog so thick that looking through it to try and decipher what lay ahead had become an impossible feat.

Before the 11th of May,  promises had fervently been made, speeches passionately delivered, and the "awam" (people) of Pakistan had been taken in and convinced in a manner so smooth by the Oscar-worthy performers we call our politicians that they still don’t know what hit them.

Little did we know that problems of a different nature would begin (and add to the plethora of existing ones) straight after the 11th of May, 2013.

An election symbolizes the transition from one government to another, a baton of responsibility being handed over to the group of people waiting to receive it next. In Pakistan, this did indeed occur, with everyone (except a few) having worn their best mature faces to the outing, in which the majority accepted the results of what proved to be an extremely controversial election, with a fake smile on their faces.

None of the above is something we have forgotten just yet (or possibly ever will), but isn’t it lovely being able to reminisce about the good times before you shift focus onto the bad? By ‘bad’, I mean the present situation. And yes, in case you’re wondering, we have mentioned the sole good thing that has happened within Pakistan (in the last few months) in the last paragraph already. No, I’m not referring to our talent for fake smiling, but in fact, the transition of power between the outgoing PPP government and the PML-N.

The elections are done. And besides having to deal with rigging allegations and traumatic TV debates concerning the transparency and fairness of the entire affair itself, it appears that the majority of Pakistan at that point was ready, if not dying, to move forward. Fair enough. Many however, were at the edge of their seats, waiting to pounce with preplanned criticism.

The fair thing to do, or so I was told, was to wait a while before the new government ‘settled in’ and found their feet. Obviously, it is too soon to judge someone’s achievements or shortcomings within just the first five days of having taken an oath, right? But how much time is sufficient to begin passing judgment? Who measures when and if it’s fair to start blaming the people in charge for incompetence when target killings continue, and when electricity looks like it might be discontinued altogether?

The PML-N government did not, by any means, take charge of a Pakistan that was at the top of its game, in fact, quite the opposite. Pakistan is currently in the throes of an excruciating migraine, with bright lights and loud sounds being hurled in its direction, threatening to make the situation much worse. But if it wasn’t already bad enough that the citizens of this country have to deal with receiving a few meager hours of electricity, alarmingly increasing rates of poverty and a ferociously rampant threat of terrorism, it is our very own political parties, which fail to keep their own houses in order, only adding to the list of problems engulfing us.

It sometimes (more often than not) feels as though the entire concept of our State Emblem ‘Unity, Faith and Discipline’ has eluded us completely in recent times. We are only united in our quest to outdo our opponent’s political agenda (whatever those even are anymore), have faith in the fact that we will get ahead of the other by any means necessary, and are exquisitely disciplined when it comes to mastering all varieties of blaming, condemning and condoling. Other than these instances, our political parties have regressed tenfold, and have failed to show the maturity required to move forward, in the true essence of the term.

The earthquake generated by the past governance of the PPP triggered the ‘Tsunami’ Imran Khan promised to bring, which in turn ended up being overshadowed by a mighty volcanic eruption courtesy of the PML-N, which spilled into the National Assembly faster than you can say ‘lava’. ‘Hurricane’ Qadri disappeared just as soon as he had appeared, and the MQM is drowning in its flood of tears, mostly provided by its supreme leader himself. General Musharraf lies on the sidelines, promising to bring a heat wave no doubt, which shall give the government of the day something to distract the people with, whilst they try their best to do more than just provide hastily made budgets, and heartfelt (?) condolences.

The political disasters mentioned above are fueling this nation’s migraine to such an extreme, that pretty soon the common man will snap and ask for proper medication. Who will prescribe it? Certainly not those who cannot agree or see eye to eye (don’t think about the song!) on even the basic things this country needs: counter-terrorism policies, feasible energy plans and employment generation.

The problems are escalating, and the margin for error is minimal, and believe it or not, Man of Steel was just a movie. There is no Superman, and even if there was, he isn’t going to save Pakistan. It is you and I who have the power to raise our voices and force those in a position of power to bring the change they so boisterously promised us. There will be another May 11 in five years but only if we make it that far.

And even though this country helps my cynicism soar to new heights, it is also the only one I have.

Instead of whispering a ‘Get well soon’ under our breath every time we watch our streets flow with blood and our homes drown in darkness, let us end the indifference and apathy. Every migraine has a cure and every problem a solution.

Pakistan is ours to own. What are we doing by not helping fix it?

The PML-N government did not, by any means, take charge of a Pakistan that was at the top of its game, in fact, quite the opposite

Awakening

Howling winds and shattering window panes caused a momentary lull in my sleep. I woke up heavy headed that morning at 6 o clock. The sky outside was pitch dark and the clouds were thundering as if they were holding so much they hadn’t let go. I stood up and made my way downstairs to fetch a glass of water. My throat was rugged and my intestines were clenching together as I gasped in thirst.

After devouring those sweet sips of water, I hurried my way upstairs to enjoy those last few moments of comfort in the sequestration of my bed. Honestly, I hadn’t slept properly in ages. Every time I shut my eyes, I only seemed to look at what my mind showed me. It felt miserable. Feeling free, yet in distress; feeling complete, yet incomplete.

Nonetheless, I made my way upstairs and snuggled in the solace of my bed sheets. It was a Sunday and the last day before work would start again. As much as I liked being fast paced, it was the only thing that I perhaps did every day. Around me was a cloak that pushed me farther from all the fancies of life. In this shell were me, my existence and my constant breathing—which I could not foresee an end to.

Over the last few days, I had thought a lot about Blue. This morning was no different. I opened my eyes to tweeting of birds in the nests. The sun shone right on my eyes and impinged on my retina, narrowing my view. I confidently walked towards the window to draw the curtains apart. The next moment, I found myself juggling with the coffee machine for my morning buzz. It was 10 o clock and I had awakened to a disturbed mind. 

All my cognition could think about was Blue. About Blue, there is so much to say that just describing her outward appearance was not enough. Before her, I hadn’t seen a woman as ambitious, smart, intelligent and selfless. All these years that we spent together passed in a flick. Sometimes, when I began to articulate, I don’t know if that was the happiest time of my life or not. But now, when she has left me, I do know that my subconscious mind was so dependent on her that achieving little goals without her by my side has become heart wrenching.  

If I begin to admit the truth beyond the canvas of my own shortcomings, I was not ever happiest when Blue came into my life. But now, the way she deserted me and everything we had paved together has left me awestruck. With Blue’s exit came so much rejection towards me from life and it all changed into black and white. Perhaps, that is what Blue wanted me to realize. But unfortunately, I learned the hard way. I only wish that she could stay in my life longer and not take a leave to help me accomplish the true meaning of relationships within their own sanctity and boundary. 

The day had almost come to an end. The clouds had poured enough all day, bringing a rather dull yet serene aftermath forward. The city appeared clean and washed from the height I currently stood at, absorbing a bird’s eye view of Praha, just from my apartment in Prague. I spent most of my day going through Blue’s memories and how they all beautifully bridged to my journey so far in life. Undoubtedly enough, I owe her almost everything. Every passing moment, I only wished that she had given another chance to this relationship—one that I almost neglected while she conquered lengths for it to flourish.

Crudely, I snapped the photo album I was going through on the table and went out for a smoke. It was -4 degrees and I felt culpable. When I stared at the moon and the stars, I felt I stood in a witness box—for all that I did to Blue, for all that went wrong. Would she forgive me? Would she not? Her love for me was true—would that love fight the oceans and screaming winds for us to unite again?

As I walked past the streets, I strolled down St. Nicholas Church. Every time Blue and I traveled across this street, her eyes lit with glow as she softly spoke all those words of goodness and talked of her dreams of us tying the knot in this very church. Over the course of our journey in Prague during the last five years, Blue had intuitively developed a bonding to this very church, its glory, lights and architecture. 

I walked a good few miles from home to the church and back. On my way, I grabbed a quick bite from Café Pacci—one of Blue’s most favorite places for a quick bite. 

Soon, my day was over. I lay in my bed and prepared myself for the next day. My first day to work after parting with Blue—just the thought made me uneasy. Amidst my thoughts and realizations, I drifted to kip and negotiated with my lady love in my dreams to come back home.

The next morning seemed pale. I left home hurriedly and drove to work. It was the same, just the same as Blue had left. But Prague felt incomplete without her. Blue originated from North America and had always dreamed of painting her life in a city like this—full of culture, colors and an aura of its own. Six years ago, I met Blue in a subway from Boston to New York. Back then, I was completing my university education in a reputed business school in Boston.

I lost my father to a car accident on Paris’s most famous street, Shanzey Lezay, when I was only 4. He was a wine distributor but his business was seized by the Government of France after his death as he operated partly illegally. When I was 6, I began to realize how financially disabled my mother had become. She started working as a waitress in Alcazar, a pub in Paris. There, she was exposed to all sorts of unpleasant experiences one can imagine. There were times she didn’t return home for nights and randomly called me from a hotel reception to ensure if I was doing alright. Soon, I was transferred to a boarding school in Monte Carlo as a tool to stay away from mother’s unlawful practices and the dark side. When I was 12, I decided to visit mother on a surprise note. To my horror, I opened the door of my very house to the most displeasing sight ever. What had she turned into? 

I took the first train back to Monte Carlo. That night, my soul burned down to ashes and dissolved to wreckage, if nothing more. The next morning, I was disoriented in my hostel room and missed attending school for a week. For over two months, my mother kept calling and sending me letters but I had disappeared as if we were never related, or as if I had lost her too with my father. 

A year later, when I finished school, I started working in a money exchange. The prime and perhaps the only motive of my life now was to raise money. My spirits were bruised beyond repair. I had become so isolated that slowly all my friends drifted apart. The few that were left did not seem to comprehend my silence. Just one person who did that in my life was Blue. 

Thinking about all this felt surreal—a shame and disgrace. Suddenly, I hit the brakes. I stood outside my office. It took me a while to harvest my energy and climb upstairs. With the New Year unfolded a new beginning. Some hundred meetings and appointments had already been scheduled for coming months. Apart from this were some tough deadlines I was required to meet. Time almost flew by as I looked at my watch. Soon, it was time for lunch. I wrapped the longwinded files on my computer screen and rushed down to grab Blue’s most favorite Turkey Breast sandwich.

Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. I could smell Blue in the air. Dismayed, I moved my steps downstairs. Rare as it was, I felt the urge to be with her, eat lunch with her. I was taken aback by this thought as I normally didn’t welcome her company for lunch or even at dinner time. As much as Blue strived to spend time together, I rebelled every time she proposed a plan. During working hours, I routinely shunned her from my company. There were times when I lied to her about my whereabouts so she does not walk into my office. Really, what was I thinking?

Blue and I soon adjusted to this groove. However, as unwilling as she was, she kept patient and hoped that maybe one day I will return home earlier and spend time in the aroma of our bedroom. Most of the times, when I stepped in the house, Blue had fallen asleep just waiting for me—sometimes on the couch, down on the rug or simply on the bed, exhausted and disgruntled. To me, it was a mindless activity—waiting for someone to return home, look in their eyes or expect your partner to get you a bouquet. Blue, however, did not understand this. One of the primary reasons we fought every time was her immature, childish behavior; which she didn’t understand was a hindrance to a practical man’s life. 

In a jiffy, I snapped out of my fantasies and rushed to work. The latter half of the day swung. I managed to grip my nerves and focus on work somehow, with Blue’s memories fading into the background.

This was becoming unbelievable—almost unbelievable. In her presence, there was hardly a time when I expressed an intimate emotion. Now that she has gone, all I could think about was Blue. The more I did, her face evanesced out of my mind. And the more I tried to create distance, the closer I felt to her scent and existence.

Despite everything, I cornered these thoughts to a quite impasse of my soul. I moved forward with whatever this very day had to bring forth.

After work, I entered to an empty house followed by a queue of silence which felt unnatural. Precisely, it didn’t exist when Blue was there. The sound of her laughter, the way she chuckled was no less than a baby. Blue metamorphosed the daunting shadows of my past to bright light. 

There was a post in Blue’s name, lying just above the fireplace. It was a letter by her best friend, Amanda, who lived in Berlin and got hitched just two months ago. I immediately recalled how eager Blue was to attend her wedding reception but my work schedule and engagements couldn’t let the plan materialize.

Amanda and Blue were friends since high school. She was one of the most reliable people in Blue’s life. Missing her wedding was a bummer and Blue was upset with me over this for weeks. I tore the envelope open and read the letter.

Dearest best friend,

Married life is just as amazing as I had thought. Now that I am done, it’s your turn to tie the knot. Olive must be ready, I guess? The last time we met, he told me that he is quite settled in his job and would like to chalk a sketch for future very soon. 

You are undoubtedly a part of Olive’s future. 

Further, losing your job can be a tiresome experience and I think I know how you would be feeling at the moment. But I am attaching the contact details of a very famous fashion photographer called Jamie Tire who is looking to hire makeup artists for her shoots for spring 2014. She has already seen your work and quite liked it.

I hope something paves out once you and Jamie shake hands.

All the best,

Amanda Fernandez

Jamie’s contact details were attached on the next page. Blue was extensively hunting herself a new job ever since she broke ties with her previous employer over a payment fraud for which he held Blue accountable. I wasn’t sure whether responding to Amanda’s letter was a wise idea or not. But well, sooner or later, she would have known that Blue left this place and no longer belongs here.

I left the letter unattended by the fireplace. Reading everything Amanda wrote somehow implied that Blue and I appeared to be a closely knit couple before the eyes of the world. Why did Blue have to go like this? Why did she leave everything and part her ways? After all, Amanda was her friend and likewise, would only what Blue would tell her. If Blue had so many great things about me to tell the world despite my indifference, what was it that went so wrong?

I was hurt. Ever since I read the post, I felt tainted. The unbreakable and strong-headed Olive Rome was stained by the blemishes left by his girlfriend. It is easy to carry an affirmative and decisive man’s repute, but hard to play around it when the storm hits you. As much as rejection was unbearable for a man like me, the ache of Blue departing from my life seemed unacceptable, not because of the high monument of ego within me, but because of an emotion that had genuinely tarnished when Blue left.

With a heavy heart and moist eyes, I headed to bed. That night took me three months in the past. I dreamt of Blue. It was her birthday for which I promised her a week’s trip to Spain to celebrate her day and also pamper her craze of the Read Madrid. Just when Blue reached the airport and I was on my way, something at work came up. A massive proposal by an IT giant was offered to our company and being able to devise a competitive master plan for it was a road to my promotion as the Regional Head of Emerging Markets across Europe. The least I expected of Blue was to understand how crucial my job had been at that point in time. But what is the most you can expect of a woman—a stream of crocodile tears and soul rooting dialogues that make you nothing but vulnerable. As we had experienced before, Blue’s irrationality concluded to nothing resolute but an exchange of hard talks and expression of hurtful sentiments.

The dream ended. I woke up with a sudden jerk and was immersed in sweat. I felt embittered. 

Was did I feel so guilty when she had finally gone now? She was the one to choose to do so—it wasn’t me. Why wasn’t there peace around me now that Blue had gone? How did that woman manage to leave behind so much love despite the silence that stemmed across my house? Over the past five years that I spent with her in this house, I exactly knew and understood that whatever I may do to make Blue happy, would not suffice. Towards the end, it all did feel like a fruitless exercise. While I considered Blue my family, the least she could do was to understand how essential it was for me to earn and support my handicapped mother back in Paris—who had damaged her life with her very hands. Every time Blue’s company sickened me, I only thought how peaceful it would have been if she wasn’t a part of my everyday life. After all, what was it that she did except ruining my business contracts worth a billion Euros over a stupid birthday trip or an evening we could tentatively spend together. Something that has always gone over my head is the extent to which a woman can become unreasonable and drive a man up the wall—a man who wants to earn to save his family from any inconsequence that may occur. 

I didn’t remember the last time Blue rejoiced over my success. Now when I think of it, it all makes sense. It is easy to be a magistrate’s daughter and travel in a limo. But hard to attain is what my family had to bear. Every single day that I lived as a child, I only knew that life is a loan that can’t be paid back; yet all I saw was my mother struggle to become self-sufficient. Blue had something strange against a man wanting to earn money to be labeled as vehement in this world that saw no emotions? Clearly, emotions never earned us a morsel of bread; neither would they. So what was it for, if it all wasn’t for money? “My dear Blue, I wish you had understood”, I whispered in the confines of my mouth.

I dispatched these smudges thoughts to overlooked whereabouts of my mind and fell on the fluffy comfort on my pillow. As I tried to fall asleep again, tears pooled in my eyes and slowly escaped from the sides. I could go on blaming Blue for being a nut headed woman, yet she made a significant place in my life that I had started believing belonged to me. I thought of her as my possession—something that was mine. Even though I didn’t really care whether it was right or wrong; but that is how it felt. It felt like losing a treasure that I thought will be mine, until the end of time.

A disturbing sense of guilt took me over. I blamed no one but myself for all that had happened. There were times when I wanted Blue to go away—but I guess, not the way she did. As soon as this heartbreaking thought struck my brain, I stood up and started walking downstairs to the basement. Ever since Blue had left, I hadn’t dared to step in there. All it had was her sweet scent and bitter taste of her blood that had drenched the rugs there. It now had become a place that would haunt me for the rest of my life—or at least for as long as I would live in this house. The basement—where Blue decided to bade goodbye to a life she painted for herself and me, shot a bullet down her skull and died.

On my way to the basement, I stumbled upon the couch in the living room. I had no strength to walk or I would just fall. The recollection of this fateful series of incidents made every hair follicle on my body stand to attention. A mild ache in my chest arose and I gasped to the core as I fought it. There was so much remorse—Blue gave her life to the atrocities that were unbeknownst to me. Why though? I simply didn’t have time for her. As close we were physically, the emotional strength of our bond seemed to dwindle overtime. Blue and I lived a separate life although we lived under one roof.

As I sat down on the couch, my toes ran over a piece of paper that had apparently fallen off the table in the centre of the living room. I hadn’t seen this before. I opened it up and switched the lamp on to read it.

Beloved Olive,

I don’t know when you will see this. Or you may not see this at all. There is so much my heart is holding. I don’t know where to begin from. I still don’t know what has brought me here. But I guess every wave in the ocean needs a shore to resort to. My shore, I thought, was with you. Over the last few years I have realized, that a shore isn’t determined by physical support always. It is the miraculous understanding that overpowers silence—is what we haven’t been able to attain. I don’t know whether another five years of togetherness will enable us to come past this breakthrough. All I know is that I don’t want to be disloyal to you. 

I realize that my comprehension towards your hardships hasn’t been up to your expectations. Now is a time when I finally negotiated in my head that another five decades may not be able to provide you the sense of belonging that you are expecting from my end. Every day that we are together has no destination. Even though we have spent five years living together, you still do not know the tiniest of fears in my heart. I am a professional, working woman, Olive. I am not all about flowers and dinners by the beach. There is far more depth to my soul; but sadly, you have never made the effort to know me inside out. Olive, this isn’t one of our usual fights. Here, I am not demanding anything out of you. All this little letter demands is a few minutes of your time. Here, I am only stating things I wish you had done, I wish had happened, I wish we had shared. 

I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life contemplating over things that aren’t in your hands. I just wish that you find another dimension to your already well-constructed lifestyle and someone who tends to flow in the events as you will. 

I don’t remember the last time we had a moment to ourselves. What I remember is, your birthday, Halloween weekend and Christmas—all these events that we spent apart. For your birthday, I had booked a resort about 10 miles from Prague. For Halloween, the only thought that came to mind was spending some time together; of course if your tough schedule would permit. 

Olive, no, just being a magistrate’s daughter isn’t a door to life’s riches—as you thought. Let me correct you. Along with it comes a lot of undesired pressure to meet expectations you think are void and pointless. Two years ago, my so-called rich magistrate father got his hands into a murder of a policeman. Ever since, he has been involved in some felonious gang to rid himself from the crime he has committed. I know you value money over everything else because of how you have grown up; my family needs a ridiculous amount of money to get him off the hook. But since this colossal an amount is impossible to pay, the only solution is that I marry the policeman's son and bless my father with his life.

I may come across as irrational and unreasonable, as you feel, but I don’t want to live to do something that makes me insincere towards you. Neither have I wanted to die with someone else’s name attached to mine.

I know none of this will make sense to you. But I only wish that we had devoted more time to each other. Right now, all I am taking with me is the sense of satisfaction in knowing that I will die to remain yours until the end of time; but I am being ruthless towards my family and you simultaneously.

However, the only thing I wish I could carry along is the feeling of being with you. A feeling that is eternal—yet has faded out overtime. 

To conclude this chapter of your life, I request you to bring all associations with my family and friends (including Amanda) to a halt.

About all those ladies who you met in bars and thought I don’t know of them, are very much in my knowledge as most of them would call you at home while you would be meeting some forth lady outside the house every day at 2 o clock in the night. Their contact details are noted in your blue diary which is clustered among the other many documents on your writing table. The wine bottles that you hid under the kitchen counter and thought I wouldn’t know are in the giant closet in the backyard. I trash them every second week or so. Also, last week, I shifted your stack of movies from the writing table to the drawer in your closet—movies that you watched while you told me you’re working night after night. I can’t help but let a little laugh off my lips, Olive. 

Lastly, please value that one woman who killed her own existence in raising you: your mother. A woman may use any means to earn bread for her child. The only thing she will still need is her child’s embrace and acceptance.

I don’t have reasons to your answers. But all I have is answers alone.

When love dies, it isn’t ever more alive. For when it does, a whole new emotion comes to life.

Till death did us apart,

Blue

When love sleeps, it is never more awake. For when it does, a whole new emotion comes to life.