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Blessed with the best _ Alhumdulillah!a million times for every blessing in my life.

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Wednesday, February 28, 2018

اس نے خدا کو سونپ دی اپنی رضا مگر


اس نے خدا کو سونپ دی اپنی رضا مگر 
میں اب تلک دعا کے تکلف میں پڑی ہوں




ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ



ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺧﻮﺍﺑﻮﮞ ﮐﯽ ﺯﻣﯿﻨﻮﮞ ﭘﺮ
ﮐﺴﯽ ﺩﻧﯿﺎ ﮐﯽ ﺷﮩﺰﺍﺩﯼ
ﮐﺌﯽ ﻗﺮﻧﻮﮞ ﮐﺌﯽ ﺻﺪﯾﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ
ﺗﯿﺮﯼ ﯾﺎﺩ ﮐﯽ ﭼﮭﺎﺅﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﺑﯿﭩﮭﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺍﺳﮯ ﺍﺫﻥ ﺣﻀﻮﺭﯼ ﺩﻭ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺱ ﮐﯽ ﻣﻨﺠﻤﺪ ﺑﺮﻓﺎﺏ ﺁﻧﮑﮭﻮﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ
ﺧﻮﺷﯽ ﮐﯽ ﺗﺘﻠﯿﺎﮞ ﺍﺗﺮﯾﮟ
-
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺏ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺷﮩﺮ ﮐﯽ ﮔﻠﯿﺎﮞ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﮮ ﭘﺎﺅﮞ ﮐﯽ ﺣﺪﺕ ﭘﮧ ﻣﺮﺗﯽ
ﺑﺲ ﺗﻤﮭﯿﮟ ﺁﻭﺍﺯ ﺩﯾﺘﯽ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺩﯾﺌﮯ ﮨﺮ ﺁﻧﮯ ﻭﺍﻟﮯ ﺳﮯ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﺍ ﭘﻮﭼﮭﺘﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺍﻭﺭ ﺩﺭﻭﺍﺯﮮ... ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﯼ ﺁﮨﭩﻮﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﮔﻢ
ﻣﮕﺮ ﺗﻢ ؟
ﺩﻭﺭﯾﻮﮞ ﮐﮯ ﺷﮩﺮ ﺳﮯ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺩﻭﺭ ﺑﯿﭩﮭﮯ ﮨﻮ
ﺟﮩﺎﮞ ﺁﻭﺍﺯ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺟﺎﻧﮯ ﺳﮯ ﮈﺭﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
-
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺏ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺭﺍﺳﺘﮯ ﺍﻣﯿﺪ ﮐﯽ ﺧﻮﺷﺒﻮ ﺳﮯ ﻣﮩﮑﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﮐﮧ ﺗﻨﮩﺎﺋﯽ
ﮨﻤﺎﺭﯼ ﺭﻭﺡ ﮐﮯ ﺳﺎﺣﻞ ﭘﮧ ﺟﺐ ﺑﮭﯽ ﺑﯿﻦ ﮐﺮﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﺍ ﻧﺎﻡ ﻟﯿﺘﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﮨﻮﺍ ﺟﺐ ﮔﻨﮕﻨﺎﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺗﻮ ﺍﺱ ﮐﮯ ﺳﺮﻣﺌﯽ ﮨﻮﻧﭩﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ
ﺗﯿﺮﮮ ﺩﺭﺩ ﻣﯿﮟ ﮈﻭﺑﮯ ﮨﻮﺋﮯ ﻟﻤﺤﻮﮞ ﮐﯽ
ﮐﭽﯽ ﺑﻮﺭ ﺍﮌﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
-
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺍﺏ ﮨﻢ ﺩﯾﻮﺗﺎﺅﮞ ﮐﯽ ﻃﺮﺡ ﺧﺎﻣﻮﺵ ﺭﮦ ﺭﮦ ﮐﺮ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﮮ ﮨﺠﺮ ﮐﮯ ﺁﺯﺍﺭ ﺳﮩﮧ ﺳﮩﮧ ﮐﺮ
ﺑﮩﺖ ﮨﯽ ﺗﮭﮏ ﭼﮑﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﮨﻤﯿﮟ ﺍﺏ ﻧﯿﻨﺪ ﮐﮯ ﻟﻤﺒﮯ ﺳﻔﺮ ﭘﺮ ﻟﻮﭦ ﺟﺎﻧﺎ ﮨﮯ
ﺟﮩﺎﮞ ﮨﻢ ﻧﮯ
ﺯﻣﺎﻧﮯ ﮐﯽ ﻧﮕﺎﮨﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ ﭘﺮﮮ
ﺍﮎ ﺍﻭﺭ ﮨﯽ ﻣﻨﻈﺮ ﺑﺴﺎﻧﺎ ﮨﮯ
-
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﯾﮧ ﻟﻤﺤﮯ
ﮨﻤﺎﺭﺍ ﻣﺎﺱ ﮐﮭﺎﻧﮯ ﭘﺮ ﺗﻠﮯ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ ﺑﺎﺭﻭﺩ ﺑﻦ ﮐﺮ ﺟﺴﻢ ﻭ ﺟﺎﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﺩﻭﮌﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﺁﻧﮑﮫ ﭘﺘﮭﺮﺍﺋﯽ ﮨﻮﺋﯽ ﮨﮯ
ﮨﺎﺗﮫ ﺷﻞ ﮨﯿﮟ
ﺍﻭﺭ ﮨﻢ ﭘﮧ ﻣﻮﺕ ﺳﯽ ﭼﮭﺎﺋﯽ ﮨﻮﺋﯽ ﮨﮯ
-
ﭘﻠﭧ ﺁﺅ
ﮐﮧ ﺩﻝ ﮐﯽ ﺩﮬﮍﮐﻨﯿﮟ ﺍﺏ ﺑﮭﯽ
ﺗﻤﮭﺎﺭﯼ ﻧﺎﻡ ﮐﯽ ﺗﺴﺒﯿﺢ
!ﺻﺒﺢ ﻭ ﺷﺎﻡ ﭘﮍﮬﺘﯽ ﮨﯿﮟ


تمہارا دھوکہ دینا ۔۔۔



تمہارا دھوکہ دینا ۔۔۔
اور میرا دھوکہ کھا جانا ۔۔۔
!!سنو 
.!یہ بھی محبت تھی میری
___________________________________



میں ہر رات اس سے نفرت کرنے کا عہد دہرا کر سوتی ہوں



میں ہر رات اس سے نفرت کرنے کا عہد دہرا کر سوتی ہوں ۔۔اور ہر صبح اس عہد کو توڑتے ہوئے اٹھتی ہوں۔۔دنیا میں ہر بیماری کا علاج ہو گا ۔۔پر محبت کا نہیں ۔۔ 



کوئی تھا جو میری ہر بات پر


کوئی تھا جو میری ہر بات پر
!!_______آمین کہتا تھا



کوئی بات کوئی عادت


کوئی بات
کوئی عادت
کوئی ادا
کبھی تو، کچھ تو
یاد تو آتا ہوگا .. ♥️
____________________________________



محبت تو عبادت تھی


محبت تو عبادت تھی
عبادت کیوں بدل ڈالی؟
کہ جب بھی آنکھ کھولی تو
تجھے سوچا تجھے مانگا
نہ جیتے ہم نہ مرتے تھے
تری خاطر وفاؤں کو
قضا کرنے سے ڈرتے تھے
عبادت کب بدلتی ہے
محبت کے پجاری کا
کبھی محور بھی بدلا ہے
تجھے ہی ڈھونڈتے رہنا
تجھے رکھنا دعاؤں میں
تجھے احساس کر ڈالا
تجھی کو خاص کر ڈالا
محبت کب بدلتی ہے
کسی کے چھوڑ جانے سے
نہ واپس لوٹ آنے پر
کسی کی ہم نوائی سے
کسی کی بے وفائی سے
محبت تو عبادت ہے
عبادت کب بدلتی ہے
تو تھا سجدوں میں بھی شامل
ترے بن میں نہ تھی کامل
محبت کی نمازوں میں
خدا بھی ایک ہوتا ہے
بھلا کیا رب بدلتا ہے؟
تجھے محصور رکھا تھا
یہ محور کیوں بدل ڈالا؟
چلو اب تم ہی بتلاؤ
مری تو تم سے دنیا تھی
یہ دنیا کیوں مٹا ڈالی؟
محبت تو عبادت تھی
عبادت کیوں بدل ڈالی؟


سُنا تھا تمہارے قبیلے کے لوگ



سُنا تھا تمہارے قبیلے کے لوگ ، مر جاتے ہیں مگر غداری نہیں کرتے
تو کیا تم اپنے قبیلے کے نہیں تھے؟



Tuesday, February 27, 2018

You cannot get through a single day


You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make. 


I have left your letter unanswered for more


I have left your letter unanswered for more days than I could have wished. But don’t think it was just because I am so careless, I enjoyed keeping silent with the letter just as one enjoys walking about in silence with another until the moment comes when one turns and puts out a hand and speaks. 



But I love such days, rare lonely days


But I love such days, rare lonely days. I love above all things, my dear, to be alone.


It is a rainy evening,


It is a rainy evening, not at all cold, rather warm, but rainy, rainy. Everything is wet, the river is sopping, and if you stand still a moment you hear the myriad little voices of the rain. As you walk, the air lifts just enough to blow on your cheeks. Ah, how delicious that is. 



I am neither happy nor sad


I am neither happy nor sad, I am inside the autumn, I am. 



There was a little smell in the air of mist and damp


There was a little smell in the air of mist and damp, the smell that comes with the first fall of the leaf. 



Coffee is a lot more than just a drink,


Coffee is a lot more than just a drink, it’s something happening. Not as in hip, but like an event, a place to be, but not like a location, but like somewhere within yourself. It gives you time, but not actual hours or minutes, but a chance to be, like be yourself, and have a second cup. 



I live on my emotions.


I live on my emotions. Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but then again I would rather suffer through them suffer intensely, I mean, go down into the depths with them, for the sake of that wonderful upward swing on to the pinnacles of happiness. 



Here’s a part of the woods in the morning after rain.


Here’s a part of the woods in the morning after rain. I can’t tell you how superb that effect was in nature, with the bronze of the greenery and the fallen leaves here and there.

I wish you could walk there in the morning sometime, in the superb autumn woods here. 



The weather here has changed to heavy rolling


The weather here has changed to heavy rolling mists and thick soft rain. The mountains disappear very beautifully, one by one. The lake has become beautiful and one feels the silence. 


What happened to Kafka is the same as


What happened to Kafka is the same as what happened to me. He withdrew, he went too far into solitude and knew he must have known, you never come back from there. 



I like people whose beauty entails something individually


I like people whose beauty entails something individually captivating. People whose beauty is as pure as tears. Oh, how glorious the human heart can be. How terrifying, if it is also linked to the soul.



Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit. Restless.


Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit. Restless. Solitary. She sits. She goes to window. She stands. She sits. Twilight. She thinks. She writes. She sighs. Twilight. Solitary. 


A woman enjoying the pleasure


A woman enjoying the pleasure of her own company and rewarding herself with a slice of cake or sneaking off to the cinema on her own, untroubled by the judgement of others and clear about her priorities. It’s a long way from the boisterous night out on the lash with the girls, more a moment of self-indulgent pleasure.



I am an intense person.


I am an intense person. I don't do things halfway. I am all in or all out. You either have all of me or you don't get me at all.



The autumn moon is unutterably beautiful.


The autumn moon is unutterably beautiful. Anyone who thinks the moon is always like that has no concept of difference, and is to be pitied.


I breathe this wonderful air and look at the sun


I breathe this wonderful air and look at the sun on mountain peaks behind mountain peaks and what does it matter, so long as I stay here and can go on looking at mountains or walking along their edges?. 



Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest


Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky. 


I really do like it when people


I really do like it when people tell me about themselves. It doesn’t matter what. It can be about their day, what they did that they found amazing, what their hobbies are. I like knowing about people. In a way, it makes me feel like they trust me. You are not bothering me with your rambling. I actually prefer to listen.


Spend your sunday the way you like.


Spend your sunday the way you like. Stay home and sleep if that’s what makes you happy. Skip the party in pub, aimless chitchat with random acquaintances. Read, take a long shower, eat your favourite food, talk with your favourite person, go for a long drive.


I see myself forever and ever as the lonely soul,



I see myself forever and ever as the lonely soul, the wanderer, the restless frustrated artist, the person in love with love, nature, always in search of the absolute, always seeking the unattainable. 


When he dies


When he dies
Write a book about him.

Write about a guy who likes to look at the sky, the clouds, the moon, the sunset and the stars.
Write about a guy who walks away from the gossiping and sit with the borken. 
Write about a guy who loves to go to mountains, re-read his old letters, conversations, loves to share music passionately like lovers sharing a kiss. 
Write about a guy who talks non-stop one moment and goes silent the other. 
Write about a guy who keep himself away from insensitive and selfish people. 
Write about a guy who makes people happy either by words, books or things. 



There is one thing one has to have


There is one thing one has to have, either a soul that is cheerful by nature, or a soul made cheerful by work, love, art, and knowledge. 


I want to be a work of art


I want to be a work of art, at least in my soul, since I can’t be one in my body. 



Sensitivity does not come with infinite knowledge


Sensitivity does not come with infinite knowledge and information. You may know all the books in the world, you may have read them, devoured them, you may be familiar with every author, you may know all the things that have been said, but that does not bring intelligence. What brings intelligence is this sensitivity, a total sensitivity of your mind, conscious as well as unconscious, and of your heart with its extraordinary capacities of affection, sympathy, generosity. 

And with that comes this intense feeling, feeling for the leaf that falls from a tree with all its dying colours, the cat that walks across the wall, to the squalor, the filth of human beings in poverty, in despair.


I felt and saw the night outside deep within me.


I felt and saw the night outside deep within me. Wind and wetness, autumn, bitter smell of foliage, scattered leaves of the elm tree. 



I couldn't live where there were no trees,


I couldn't live where there were no trees, something vital in me would starve.



I feel more and more


I feel more and more, every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand worlds. 



But I cannot tell you what a joy it is to be in


But I cannot tell you what a joy it is to be in contact with living people who are strange and quick and not ashamed to be themselves. It’s kind of supreme airing to be among them. 



For me, the mountains has always been a confidant


For me, the mountains has always been a confidant, a friend absorbing all it is told and never revealing those secrets.

This is how I see it.


This is how I see it. As an artist it is my responsibility to not have a boring life. To feel deeply. To listen to the stories of strangers. To try new things and go new places. To say yes. To question everything. To find beauty in the commonplace. And to fall in love. Over and over. Because through the highs of love and the lows of heartbreak I truly know what it is to feel.


The most ordinary conversation is often


The most ordinary conversation is often the most poetic, and the most poetic is precisely that which cannot be written down.



I am sentimental.


I am sentimental. I talk to strangers. Sometimes I cry a little on public transport. When someone tell me that they love me, I feel as though my heart will burst. I take the pictures of mountains, clouds and leaves. I notice the changing of season and I get excited. I love coffee. Little things makes me happy and I hope I stay this way.


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