Masterpiece-story

man_of_sorrow_by_pesi_flickr

Elevator was out of order so he took  the staircase to the apartment with heavy heart, and almost dragging feet. It was evening now, he had spent whole day wandering on streets since left her asleep in the apartment.

How compelling it was to see her sleeping like this. Partially covered with silk linen, curled tresses covering half face, lips slightly parted reddish and swollen from last night she looked so delicate yet dazzling the same instance . “Even he would have chosen her over Aphrodite if Prince Paris was asked”, he thought.

For a fleeting moment a wild desire to take her in arms and love her till the last breath grew in his heart. “ But how can I? I am an artist. I can’t indulge into worldly pleasures of companionship. An artist thrive on despair, his soul breathes on heartbreaks. This is how he creates his masterpiece.  He isn’t meant to love or be loved or artist inside him will die. I must send her away. “

He scribed a note and left it on the nightstand.

“I’m going out not coming back till evening, please lock the door while u leave.”

He was out the whole day, wandering but this wasn’t the reason of his drag. That weak moment error was taking its toll now. Regret was coming. He had done a despicable thing to someone whom he sworn to love all life last night. But was he truly regretful? there was small dark corner in his heart which was full with joy. Artist inside him was waking up, heartache does that you know. He knew that he would soon be able to create the masterpiece.

He touched the staircase railing, “She must have laid her hand on it while descending “, a thought came. “She must have been crying”, another thought. He closed his eyes to imagine her tearful face. He clutched his chest while artist within thrilled. “I’ll keep everything of her as a memento of our love like a sacred relic, everything that she touched or used. I’ll keep her alive in my memory”.

Lost in thoughts he reached the apartment and just put the key in the lock when a wild thought struck him. “what if she is still there? what if she never seen the note? “, his hands faltered for a moment, heart swelled with unknown emotion.

Waited for a while then taking deep breath he turned the keys.

She had left, apartment was dark but even in darkness he felt something odd about the place or say estrange. It was his apartment ofcourse, number was right, key set into the lock then what is it? He switched the lights on and a fresh gust of wind hit his face.

He moved around, everything was in its place. Except…… except the bed linen !……and the pillowcase! those weren’t the one from last night !! where did they go?? What happened to this place?? now he started to notice, everything was clean and smelled fresh, the kitchen where they sat chatting and having ice tea, glasses were washed and shelved in the cabinet. bathroom was squeaky clean and smelled of bleach so did the bed linen, pillowcases and towel which were now hanging in the terrace almost dry.

He remembered the broken bangles when he playfully grabbed her wrist and broken glass punctured his palm. He could still feel the sting. He rushed to  the corner of kitchen table to see if they were still lying there but alas, they were also removed.

She had taken her time before leaving, washed and cleaned every inch. There was no sign nor scent of her only bleach. She had wiped out her whole existence from his life.

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a Princess on Every Street – a message

a Princess on Every Street – a message.

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perception

There are things known
and there are things unknown,
and in between
are the doors of perception
– Aldous Huxley

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کانچ کے رنگین ٹکڑے

بچپن میں ہم ایک کھیل کھیلا کرتے تھے، گلی سے ٹوٹی ہوئی رنگ برنگی چوڑیاں اور کانچ کے رنگین ٹکڑے جمع کرتے اور انہیں زمین میں دبا دیا کرتے تھے، اس امید پر کہ وہ ایک دن خزانے میں تبدیل ہو جائیں گے… آج بھی ہمارا وہی حال ہے، آج بھی ہم ٹوٹے ہوۓ خوابوں کو دل کی زمین میں دفن کر کے کریدتے رہتے ہیں کہ شاید ان میں سے خوشیوں کا کوئی خزانہ نکل پڑے-

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‘ تم” کو یونہی تکتا رہتا ہوں

جیسے ننگے پاؤں، پھٹے پرانے کپڑوں والے بچے اپنی خالی جیبوں کا احساس لیے دل کو اچھی لگنے والی مہنگی چیزیں کسی دکان کے بند شیشوں سے پہروں لگ کے تکتے ہیں میں بھی ” تم” کو یونہی تکتا رہتا ہوں

 

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till the End

So clever, whatever, I’m done with these endeavors. Alone I walk the winding way.

It’s over, no longer, I feel it growing stronger.
I’ll live to die another day, until I fade away.

Why give up, why give in?
It’s not enough, it never is.
So I will go on until the end.
We’ve become desolate.
It’s not enough, it never is.
So I will go on until the end.

Surround me, it’s easy to fall apart completely. I feel you creeping up again.

It’s over, no longer, I feel it growing colder. I knew this day would come to end, so let this life
begin.

Why give up, why give in?
It’s not enough, it never is.
So I will go on until the end.
We’ve become desolate.
It’s not enough, it never is.
But I will go on until the end.
I’ve lost my way.
I’ve lost my way, but I will go on until the end.

Living is hard enough without you messing up.

Why give up, why give in?
It’s not enough, it never is.
So I will go on until the end.
We’ve become desolate.
It’s not enough, it never is.
But I will go on until the end.
I’ve lost my way.
I’ve lost my way, but I will go on until the end.

The final fight I win,
the final fight I win,
the final fight I win, but I will go on until the end.

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Sacchi Azaan

Azaan ho rahi hey, roz hoti hey 5 waqt, humein Allah ki taraf bulaane k liye. lakin azaanon mein wo baat nahi hey waisa dard nahi hey jo Khuda ki taraf bulae, jo ehsaas dilae k humare sab dard, ghamon, humare dil ki her jalan k  maseeha sirf Allah, usi k paas ja ker humein pa’nah mile gi. Mujhey azaan bohat pasand hey ek waqt tha jab kahin azaan hoti mein zaroor sunti thi lakin ksi bhi azaan mein wo gehrai nahi hey, sirf awazein onnchi hoti chali ja rahi hein pukaar nahi. Azaan dunya ki sab se khubsurat melody dunya ka koi music itna haseen nahi jo iski taseer ko kam ker de. lakin wo awaz kahan hey jo mujhe apne dil se nikalti mehsoos ho, jis ko sunn ker mein be’ikhtayar ho ker Khuda k hazoor dorr jaon, us se kahoon mujhe apne paas bula lo ye dunya mere liye nahi hey, mujhe apni panah mein le lo mere Malik. koi mujhe sacchi azaan suna de.

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truth

there are thingz that you cannot get back no matter how much you struggle, there iz also despair that you cannot escape.

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another thought

Great Expectationz endz into Greater Disappointment..

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Ye judaiyon k raste barri duur tak gae hein

Jo gaya wo phir na aaya meri baat maan jao

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