Random Ramblings

I read this somewhere and it struck the chords within me:

Ek muddat hui tum yaad na aaye
Aur tumhe bhool gaye hum aisa bhi nahi!

Don't know why today as it snowed when instead azure sky should've been there to shelter us...I felt inexplicable uncertainty and ambiguity in my heart...not the kinda I apprehended... Or not scary at all....(am not a visionary!).. But it stirred something in me..not that I experience usually....
Life doesn't go as we plan..don't we all know it,yet each time we plan...and of course Isnain knows about my whims...world tour etc etc...but as I say eventually everything connects we remember each other in all embodiments of madness or serious contemplation...we arrived from divergent portals and met at a junction which was much needed...may be to cheer each other for dreaming impossible.... And I realised that is a skill too..not all can dream amidst the reality of uncertainty.... And I believe knowing you got others who also think rather dream in alike manner is  blessing in itself...and today am thankful for that....and in spite of such ambiguity there are some innate laws...uncertainty doesn't lasts long....you can cut the flowers but you can't keep the spring from coming...!
Low times...ecstatic moments....delightful chatter.. And a box of lovely memories...
Rest everything makes little sense...
We do not know much about each other as yet and nor do we need to know, given the fact that we love literature and that alone says a lot about who we are or where we wanna go.....
And hence the world of literature connects the minds and hearts to a world of fantasy and ambiguity where everything is made possible... And this is a blessing to know...
Feel blessed for this inexplicably sublime gift....
Overlooking the superficial surface realities and sanity of this material world...let's be thankful and deeply engrossed for this universe that we have created on our own wherein the galaxy needs no scientific laws to stand...only genial gestures and great dreams to bind the stars together in a realm of silence from where no one wants to return!
Maruj Ul Muntaha
Isnain Muzamil
Sania Muzamil
Areej Zaffar ;)
The art of procrastination... When we should be studying!

          —Sana Shah

INROADS OF PATRIARCHY

How often do we hear intellectuals, professionals, and so called ‘progressive minds’ saying that ONE LINE, to project how well they have imbibed the concept of gender equality and emancipation of women and wish to instill the same among the masses, thus apparently reflecting the take-off on the runway of progress and open-mindedness. That ONE LINE: respect a woman because she is a mother, daughter, sister, etc etc,
This ONE LINE ironically reflects the deeper inroads of patriarchy itself, defeating the very purpose which the line was intended to serve. Thus it exposes the nature of mediocrity our society still thrives in and the level of development and progress attained by the people who propound such ideas. Respecting a woman just because she is a mother, daughter….and all that, is not the mark of respect but in actuality it is a statement that reinforces the system of [patriarchy, thus confining the woman’s role to a mother, daughter, sister…etc and overlooking her own individuality; not considering her a human first, before anything else.
Do we ever come across the statement: respect a man as he is a father, brother, son etc etc. NO, because unfortunately a ‘man’ is a word enough to define a person’s individuality, and this is not just unfortunate but illogical and bizarre!
Does a woman not deserve equal respect for just being a human first? Before assigning other roles to her, is she not an individual complete in herself?
The system that reckons the woman as the epitome of sacrifices, thinking that she was born to endure all the sufferings (bardaasht karo; you must endure, bear it all) reflects the reduced individuality of a woman. She must endure? Why? Salman Rushdie’s words come to my mind, “What can’t be cured must be endured”. So have we accepted that we can’t cure the issue of gender disparities, have we already given up on the fight to attain gender equality, and now we do not have any option but to endure? And this is considered normal!
I remember attending an event in Jammu, where in a cultural program, the life stages of a woman was shown through dance performance. They showed the transition from baby to daughter to wife. Firstly the entire concept didn’t go down well with me, secondly in the show, as the girl’s student life was over and she graduated and we all clapped, but then the stage of marriage was shown, and we were shocked at the enthusiastic response from the crowd: they started hooting loudly and clapping even like mads, that even educated students clapped more at the marriage stage than they did at the graduation stage,  and as long as we carry such an approach and perception, nothing will change much- it made me realize how deep the inroads of patriarchy are and it acted as the indicator or litmus test of real education.
Nowadays, in Kashmir, I often hear about how a woman has doubled her own work by entering into various professions. Now how mediocre and idiotic is that! If men feel that a woman’s work has doubled due to her job, why don’t they exert to help her in the domestic chores, instead of discouraging her.
Lastly the individuality of a woman is further undermined by her own hands when she compresses her competetiveness; when in fact the case should be the opposite! Woman should strive to be more educated and competitive because they’ll be judged everywhere by stereotypes who keep on quoting from that abstract, intangible rule book “You are a girl, so you shouldn’t do this…, Behave, you are a girl” and one feels like asking-really? As if being a boy gives the boys a license to misbehave. It all sums down to one thing: evaluate both men and women on equal parameters based on logic- stop judging blindly, you are not God! A woman is no lesser human. These are the small things, but anything that sounds sexist- a casual joke or a statement of that nature, has to be done away with. Things are not so simple as they appear- the inroads of patriarchy are so deep that we do not even realize it at times, when we unconsciously swim down the other sea.
We need the world to realize that a woman is a human first and only then can the feminist wave gather further momentum- and is it not the idea of humanity as well: to have a world more humane!

—Sana Shah

FREEDOM OF DISSENT & DEBATE IN ACADEMIC INSTITUTIONS

From one lecture theatre to another, from one realm of subject to another: minutes pile up into hours as the economy of knowledge is regulated in the academic institutions but- unidirectionally! Confining the process of learning within the domain of a classroom wall is the worst any academic institution can do to limit the growth of the ‘Self’. Surprisingly not many endorse the growth of the ‘self’ to the highest level here. The world is suffering from a grave humanitarian crisis, and the need of the hour is not mechanized-robotic brains that have grossly reinforced the default system of easy acceptance to what is being taught and preached in the disguise of obedience and academic brilliance, presented quantitatively in the marksheet; but now the world demands more ‘thinking brains’ essentially; minds that have not submitted before the abstract customs, rather those that are still alive on the diet of logic and rationality; minds that are capable of evaluating the situations on their own, without being dictated what ought to be or how things should work. And all this can only be attained when the academic institutions provides its students with the space for dissent, debate and discussions and encourages independent thinking, no matter how informal the platform is. The thought process of students should not be maneuvered to fit the set of rules already established, rather the ‘thinking brains’ are inherently little rebellious and question the perfunctory beliefs. Students have to be taught that all which is prevalent around is not necessarily the right- the freedom to question is essentially the core value of any learning process. The majority is not always right. What better example than the dialectics of Socrates and its articulation by his student Plato, no matter what the restrictions were in place by the authorities- the philosophy that stood the test of times is evident now, and even in the 21st century where do we stand?
The reform movements in India,were mainly initiated and structured through the medium of academic institutions and also for generation of opinions. To have an opinion, wrong or right is a secondary issue, is the pre-requisite for the evaluation of the system, and to generate opinions is the task and duty of our academic institutions; how well they do it, I can’t say! And ironically crushing of opinions seems to be the new normal of academic institutions, these days.
Fetching degrees alone is not enough to determine the standards of the ‘self’, until you have grown as a better person than who you were when you first entered the gates of your school or college, etc.
Only in the atmosphere where conflicting views are allowed to co-exist and given the platform to assert and prove their points, only there can one explore the ultimate truth and this should be the purpose of academic institutions. As JS Mill recognized: behind a liberal government must be a liberal society. And therefore intellectual freedom should be the extension of social democracy which essentially becomes urgent with the extension of political democracy. Also not to forget, the role of the teacher in immense for this- a good teacher has to show the students where to look but not what to see.
And as Socrates, the great teacher, has said “I cannot teach anybody anything, I can only make them think”-this has to be the purpose of our academic institutions; not inheriting the monotony of facts but to inculcate rationality and reason: to make the students THINK!

—Sana Shah

MISFIT: Do you need help to fit in the system OR do you need to help to make the system fit?

The world is a small place, more so with the waves of globalization engulfing every corner, every part of the world we live in. In the midst of all the technological and material advancements, it is heart wrenching to find that material advancements do not guarantee a parallel intellectual progress. Just as you find the phenomenon of globalization as the new normal, something called anti-globalisation sentiment starts to surface, perhaps the anti-thesis! More so, with the fast changing world, it further hurts to see that the society at large is bragging about the change to which they are innately against! The resultant situation that confronts you is a strange blend of frustration, anger, despair- you concede to the premise of being abnormal or misfit or mad. How easily the world that actually lives in a self contrived pretence of normalcy, succeeds in convincing your out of the box temperament to be abnormal. And demands you to conform to their pre-determined, stereotypical, blindly set customs, beliefs, standards which of course for them is not just the Normal, but also the Right. You tend to feel alone and suffocated. For once the wrongs spotted by your progressive and liberal values, that had inspired you to take on the mammoth task of transforming or changing the world for the better, becomes blurred and nothing seems to go right. You tend to give up, when you face set backs, one after the other. You look at the sky and complain: “why me, why am I like this, why did You make me like this, what to do next?” It feels like the end of the world, at least for you.

The world we live in today, is going through a difficult and dangerous phase- CONFORMITY; you are ordained to conform, if you fail to do that-the punishment could be a lifer or isolation or exile or abduction or even death! But should that stop us from questioning the status quo? Who do you think have been the people who have changed the world- they were not normal, for they believed in change for the better- the world would have come to an end long before, if such people would have been Normal by the usual standards- to dare the entire system of functioning is not something that anybody can do but only those who think! The world we live in today is highly censored, and opinions no longer amaze, rather views pre-determined are enforced and imposed on people. It is like, if you are born in a particular set-up, then you have to salute that existing set-up because that’s the obvious thing to do, even if it’s the most backward of all set-ups ever established. We are all familiar with the politics of hate and harm that is raging like a wild fire, burning and annihilating everything coming in its way, and it is more dangerous now, because society is akin to the fuel of that fire instead of acting like the fire-extinguisher. I see the water rising above the danger mark and what will come next can’t be predicted and it shouldn’t be predicted! Globally there’s this Rightist Revivalist movement growing day by day, country to country. If a third world war is hard to forsee in the near future due to mutual deterrence, a second cold war but seems to be inevitable! Political socialization again has to conform to the rising cacophonies of those who govern. Fascist tendencies that first attack the intellectual spaces are now seen in rife, and more so it is made to look natural. If Antonio Gramsci’s thought of Hegemony is applied here for a better understanding: he said that the web of beliefs and social relations are projected as acceptable with hegemony as the characteristic of capitalist society where family, school, church and other primary groups play a leading role in creating consent, it keeps the system going- his structures of hegemony comply for a capitalist society, but arguably it also is playing out for any society or country, where you need the status quo to continue- people are being fooled, and they do not even realize that.

Apart from the political aspect, in our social relations, things do not seem calm as well. Those misfit, abnormal souls that find the wrongs, are hurt by it, want to help the people around, are impeded by the chain of thoughts the social institutions build around them to block their line of thoughts- they are subjected to doubts, questioned conditionally without any fault of theirs. It hurts- it does. The rage suppressed inside starts accumulating- and it is genuine; because this is the rage that has to be positively converted into the forces of change. No change occurs overnight, we realize this sooner or later when our idealistic whims are shattered like a house of glass- we are asked to be practical. At times people (normal ones) would lure the misfits to conform- you see such people doing good in their lives by turning blind on all the injustices around, you are tempted to follow the same and why not, you think. Then either we can start pretending as they do, or we return to our originality. And it gets even more painful when you feel that if you can see the wrong, why can’t others see that. The simple answer to that is they are blind or at least can’t take the intensity of progessvie light that is  the normal vision for you. People do things that are easy, they tempt you to do things that are easy because society rewards it; collective minds are not always adamant to achieve the best through the difficult ways and so it is. If you think differently, be prepared to be questioned, doubted, judged in different ways- people question new things, not the customary normal ones.

It is upto the abnormal people like us, who feel for every bad thing in the world- we want to own up the responsibility to change it and legends have been doing it over and again. Not that we are the saviours and that we necessarily have to change each and everything overnight and bring in a tide of revolution- but we can create conditions for that, taking small steps, enfolding minds close to you in your island of efforts. And to do that you have to be the humanist first!
And those normal people out there who consider it easy to conform to the usual standards- thank God everyday, for the normal test reports; you cannot do much!

   —Sana Shah

Relevance of JS Mill's Thought on Liberty in contemporary world

In a democratic set-up, those chiefly cherishing the high ideals and ethos of democracy should never undermine the fact that they too are vulnerable to the loopholes and flaws of democracy.  In this regard JS Mill, a British philosopher and economist, has made a significant contribution. As has been aptly observed by George H Sabine in the analysis of Mill’s ideas on liberty, the questions on democracy and threat to liberty, have to be understood in the pretext of not just to state but to society in the broader perspective. The current debate on ‘intolerance’ and ‘infringement of intellectual freedom’ can be better understood in the light of Mill’s essays which still hold relevance in the changing times to a great extent. As put by Sabine:
“The threat to liberty which Mill chiefly feared was not government but a majority that is intolerant of the unconventional, that looks with suspicion on divergent minorities, and is willing to use the weight of numbers to repress and regiment them” Mill had recognized that behind a liberal government there must be a liberal society.
In progressive societies the room of discussions and debates should always be open to people and they should be provided with a platform where the “self” is allowed to develop and grow to its fullest. Because in an atmosphere where conflicting views are allowed to coexist and given a stage to prove their points following the method of dialectics, only there can one explore and empathize with what is right and what stands to be the ultimate truth. But instead the trend in our set-up has been the use of coercive means, suppressing the conflicting ideas if they don’t suit or fit our personal needs. The recent issues like that one, of detaining the students of JNU without any procedural investigations can be seen as another weapon for curbing the intellectual legacies of such institutions that uphold and cherish the democratic tradition of debates and discussions. Extending political forces to academic institutions is not acceptable to any democratic set-up by any means, especially when the powers of state are misused for assaulting the sphere of intellectual freedom wherein rational and critical thinking is propounded. When the state directly or indirectly interferes in the sphere of intellectual freedom, it robs the society of the advantages it might have had from free discussions and criticism of the opinions. JS Mill has over and again defined the role of state in securing the liberty of the individual and by no means has empowered the political institutions with the right to curb the individual’s right to free thinking.  Otherwise the apprehensions, in words of Voltaire “It is dangerous to be right in matters on which the established authorities are wrong” will come true. Also extending the state’s responsibility in securing the dignity of individuals, the state is not empowered to silence any voice by leveling baseless charges against people without any legal backing as prescribed by law. The abstract charges of sedition against students as in JNU delineates that the institutional legacy of such prestigious institutions of producing great statesmen, leaders, diplomats who have stood for the country’s sovereignty and integrity appears to have been undermined in the growing sense of intolerance in the nation.
Only in societies where in free-thinking and discussions are used for tolerance against rising discords, can rational minds develop who are capable of analyzing facts and then deciding what to accept and what to refute. If any opinion is not worth having, then don’t listen or prove it wrong but it cannot be banned without proper scrutiny. And EB Hall has aptly said “I do not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” Further as JS Mill in his essay On Liberty has remarked, “If all mankind minus were of one opinion, and one person were of the contrary opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person, than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind.”
Hence it must be reckoned that the abstract extension of democracy in social sphere eventually leads to the tyranny of masses, hence the need for intellectual freedom becomes more urgent with the extension of democracy.

— Sana Shah

WAVING BACK- The day of parting with my teacher : Afterword

‘And the air was full of Thoughts & Things to Say. But at times like these, only the Small Things are ever said.
Big Things lurk unsaid inside’
                 —Arundhati Roy;(GOD OF SMALL THINGS)

       —* —* —* —* —*—*

And those hands...
Kept waving at me-
I waved back, kept waving back,
I wave back, till the memory is
But a distant point in
The Rearview mirror of my life;

A world has left me behind.
I'll have to drive through the
Learning curve, without a map
On my own (My rearview mirror!)
Multiplying the convexities-
Rain drops wash off the memory:
Tears wiping tears!
(The Sky wept with us)

And the melodies echoed...
Across the vales,
The amateur voices resounding
In the mountains, with the
Plethora of heavy emotions
Till it is compressed and fades
Into the lyrics of a known song
The tune...the pauses...
the claps...the rain...
In unison- the pain...
The claps empty,
Losing track of the tune-
Wordless:
You signalled us to STOP
Without words; the journey.
The final moments at the temporary station- halt!
Only the small things ever said,
Big things lurk inside, unsaid

IT'S A MATTER OF TIME; it's going to be okay.
Nearing moments of separation;
Countless words of consolation
Hearts ruffled in agitation
I see all going in vain-
IT WAS NEVER A MATTER OF TIME,
I want to tell them-
IT'S A MATTER OF DISTANCE:
From Mile to mile, from moment to moment,
If only they could experience the same;

And the gate was flung open-
The car zoomed past the storehouse of memories, lit with candles of hope
Into the realm of infinite questions and Bewildered senses (Today the dictionary has fallen silent, wordless!)
Minds confused, eyes moist.

And I find eyes reading my eyes,
Filled with water to the brim
I breathe, heaving a sigh -
A heavy- heavy sigh, a heavy heart
Choked voice, silent prayers-
“I shouldn't weep, I won't" , I tell myself helplessly.
(Let's pretend to be strong for one last time;
Let's fake a smile for one more time)
As I turn and watch
An era disappearing...

And the hands evanescing-
Slowly fading away from my sight.
I want to look back,
“I won't cry but" , I murmur to myself again
Waving... Return the wave, one more time
As the sky betrays me with the tears
(You shouldn't cry)
And, anymore I can't contain
Walking down the memories' lane

And I —
Am already sobbing again!

                 —Sana Shah

SINCERE TRIBUTE- To Bhawana Ma'am- one of the best teachers I ever had

“Yaad-e-ayaam e salf se dil   ko tadpaata hu mai
Behr taskee'n teri janib dauddh aata hu mai"

I make the heart restless from the olden Day's memory
For satisfaction I come ardently running towards you
                      —IQBAL (Lament of separation; in memory of  his teacher, Sir T.Arnold- on parting with him)

When I first read about the bonding between Allama Iqbal and his teacher, Sir Thomas Arnold and how he moulded and influenced Iqbal's mannerisms and ideologies and how on the day of parting Iqbal wrote the poem LAMENT OF SEPARATION for his teacher, Sir T.Arnold, I didn't quite understand what could make any student to write a poem for a teacher and credit him to such an extent; nor could I discern the state of mind or the plethora of mixed emotions that Iqbal would have gone through- But today as I sit restlessly, wide awake around four in the morning, counting on the hours left when my teacher, rather the only teacher I've had in the real sense, would leave us all behind and it's a matter of pity to find myself in such a helpless predicament.

I wasn't expecting such a sudden parting...well, that's life, another name for the unpredictable! I didn't know how to explain what all I was going through- the mere thought of entering the college and she won't be around- leaves tingles running down my spine- From the very first lecture to the very last, it has been such an amazing journey- Bhawana Ma'am- not an ordinary name, rather a legendary legacy( I don't believe in flattery or buttering, ma'am- so please don't even think) Inside the classroom or outside under the sky, what did we not discuss...interactions went on for hours, such fruitful talks that elevated us to a new plane, a new horizon, a new world, all over, the one we had not experienced before... A new door to every house of subject; from sensitive issues like patriarchy to controversial political debates- here was where I found the realm of discussion, dissent, approval and much more. 

When fingers were pointed towards me, I ran to her; when I was confused, I ran to her; when I needed ideas, I ran to her; when something terrible happened, I ran to her, when others wanted suggestions, I ran to her; I have only been running these years as she would have pointed out.But ma'am ab kiske pass jau? Ye tou bataya hi nahi aapne...ab kiske pass bhaagu? Questions unanswered and answers unquestioned!

I will definitely fall short of words in expressing myself and I might just end up crying again :( In fact when we had to order the cake for her farewell, we couldn't decide what to write on it- best wishes, thanks, good luck...then we thought let's write Thanks for everything, but even this everything turned out to be nothing when weighed against all that she had taught us- so we came up with this - Thank you for......

The dot dot dot..implied what couldn't not be listed or weighed or counted- without limits, endless, abysmal as we can't tell where her influence ends or where our decisions won't be governed by her lessons...may be never! But yes those dot dot dot had another implication also- drops of tears...falling and falling- you made us cry publicly, which we never could, so thanks for that as well. Anyway

But yes,the personality, the aura, the confidence, the style, the instant repartee, the blunt sense of humor- yes she taught me that nobody is gonna believe in you until you believe in yourself; developing a sense of self- realization, knowing what your purpose is, what you want and then going after it with all the zeal and enthusiasm. It's from her I learnt that luck, fate are not so abstract as they have been made to appear- it's not a single linearly defined line on which you are computerized to walk, no, rather it's a set of options you make and receive accordingly; those who ask will receive, those who work will be rewarded, provided you realize what you're capable of.

Further do not settle for less when you deserve more- keep expectations, be clever, enjoy life and start living- always remember ‘Life mai koi bhi baat utni badi nahi hoti- ye koi utni badi baat nahi hai'.

Never did she ever say- ‘Tum se nahi hoga ye'  but she was always like: you can do anything.

A box of ready solutions and pointing the could-be errors where there were none! Directly or indirectly I have always conveyed her core message to people around me in one or the other way and of course it helped them too. I fail to understand why could I not say this to her before, face to face...perhaps I was too immersed in the blend of emotions confounding me and still am.

It is from her, I learnt to analyse things with objectivity and logic- Ma'am emotions ka logic tou bataya hi nahi aapne, at least prepare to karna tha humai ki beta aisa bhi hosakta hai.

But on a serious note- people, learn to use reason and logic, especially in matters for which the most quoted rule-book which doesn't actually exist in any tangible form is read out to you by stupid people. Never worry about anything as long as you've done the right thing. Do not pay heed to what others say or how badly they criticise or decide for you because they're not in your shoes and they can't weigh the opportunities for you, when they failed to do the same for themselves- as she would always say ‘Un Sab ne tumhari zindagi nahi jeeni hai, tumne jeeni hai!'

On matters discussed about patriarchy- well here's the take: it doesn't matter if you are a man or woman as long as you consider yourself a human first. Changes do not evolve overnight and anarchy is not an option. But that never means you could allow the tools of oppression to subjugate your individuality in the name of compromise; nor should you pick up the weapon of oppression to oppress others in any way. If we talk about women empowerment, never confuse gender equality with empowerment and stand for what is right, even if it means standing alone. And yes, it's not a matter of shame if men cry, they too are humans- so go on...cry your heart out- talk and not shout, explore options that prevent any harm to those you deal with and of course for yourself as well.And for girls, stop pitying yourself for being girls,you are equal and inferior to none. Stand up for yourself, work smart, become more competent and prove yourself to your own self as well as to the world, you ought to be more competent in all aspects because you will be judged everywhere, every time by the stereotypical heads- hold on and stay strong. Parents teach your sons to respect women as humans, do not teach them the illogical traditionality. For those who prompt like ‘This is not the way,...Aap Ladki ho...' - well, what a news, as if we didn't know, still out of humility thanks for acknowledging!

If you are different and not like others in matter of ideologies and do not follow the masses blindly, then worry not- you are not abnormal- you're a person who can think with a human brain and not a robotic chip computerized to act in that or this way, even if the way is no-way!

Ah, how I wish I could gather more of that ‘gyaan' . let's not be language-puritanical, so I am not bound by language barriers unless I am successful in communicating to you. And nor will I want to impose academic colonialism by sounding technical or using jargons not known to us.Right ma'am?

Talking about our dialogues on Politics- we just talked common sense: connect to the masses and administer in a just way, nothing in extremes and think  for yourself- never be fooled by bumper options but verify on your own.And things change slowly, it takes time but the system would change for the better.

Do what you like, opt for that which you feel fits your aptitude. Science and humanities/arts are equally important and complementary- it's not like science is ‘Sense' and Arts is ‘Non sense'

And for teachers, well she has shown that respect is to be earned and not demanded, be that teacher who deserves to be respected and I assure you, we students love great teachers and we are not selfish to keep the doors of respect in our hearts shut. If you deserve it, you'll eventually get it from us in abundance- an ocean of respect and love.

And so it is for all people in general, be someone who will always be remembered for being kind, genuine, honest and the world will respect you naturally and you will be missed till long after you leave. Give respect, get respect, rise above the mediocre mentality that penetrates the narrow lane of petty quarrels and vain arguments- peace!

Ah what else? Lots...I could go on and on , who knows I might just write a book on her lectures, but for now that's the precise summary and crux of all we discussed. 

I might further update it if more comes to my mind because all I've been doing these days, is dwelling on what I have learnt from her.

And yes make sure you grow intellectually everyday, rise above mediocrity and mundane stuff you see around- if you do that, there will be few others like you- two friends having the same mental equation- great...more than that-well: soney pe suhaaga!!!

In fact, jaate jaate bhi vo mujhe bohat kuch sikhagayei...while leaving also she subconsciously imparted some essential lessons to us- like life is unpredictable, you never know for how long are people destined to be with you, which kind of people shall meet you on your way(not the ones you want but the ones you need) and when and where;and thus make use of every opportunity to expand the economy of knowledge and do express yourself, enjoy your time with all the good people in your life because they are a blessing and never take them for granted as you never know when you will have to part ways with them. Secondly, if your falling weak makes the other person weak as well then try to control your emotions for the betterment of the other person who is already vulnerable until they reach that level of strength. And the other person should respect that strength shown by you and do justice to it by achieving that level of excellence and strength. Thirdly, everything has a purpose and nothing happens without a reason- if you are confused, just breathe and move on because in the end the big picture will make sense, completely astonishing you for the better, so have faith- remember always: koi bhi baat itni badi nahi hoti.

So all I could do for now on my part was to connect with that blend of emotions Iqbal had to go through while parting with his teacher, but the best part was in few years he went on and joined his teacher in his country for further studies- ammmm...who knows..if not for further studies, then for some other thing I might be around the same place, let's be hopeful and with that hope, here's the poem I had written for her on the day of parting; when even the sky cried with me;it's like the world crumbled on me instantly, given that the river of positivity has changed its course- a void no one can fill, a space that consumes me:

I wish I already knew

It would be an abrupt adieu

You...to your home and I?
Is home only a place I ask;
Or that feeling- that moment
Of assurance ‘you are safe,secure'
I wish I had never known
I wish I already knew

‘All that happens, happens for
The good'- ha, my consolation prize
Everybody awards me now;
I need to be consoled,
Am I such a hopeless case
So miserable and you-
You sprinkle smiles over
To make me cry more
And more and more...

The teacher always wins-
That's just the way of things!
After each precursor to hope
The screen always went BLANK
That's just the way of things!
I wish I had never known
I wish I....

They deliberately advanced languages
So that not all could be expressed
Or explained or condensed in WORDS:
PAIN, MEMORIES, GRATITUDE, LOVE-
Dwell beyond words, transcend languages
I wish I already knew
I wish I had never known

“Aagaya aaj uss sadaaqat ka mere dil ko yaqeen
Zulmat-e-shab se zeeya-e-roz o furqat kam nahi” ★

How well now I know
That ‘Lament of separation'
When Iqbal parted with his teacher-
His words, now my story:
“Today my heart is convinced of
This truth-
The light of Separation's day
Is darker than night...★
Gone is that zeal for walking
In the vast expanse of learning!
In my intellect also, you were
The inspirer of love of learning"
I wish I had never known
Oh, how I wish....

And now I cherish the illusion,
My mind contrived to delude my heart:
That we too shall meet soon, and
There's always a NEXT TIME-
A second Chance:
I wish I already knew
I wish I had never known

So Farewell is all we shall be singing
I know, Nobody stays forever,
But the way you shall be leaving
Nobody leaves in that way ever.

So I'd have devised a language then,
Other than that of TEARS to explain
That how my words failed me today,

Until we meet again...

                         —SANA SHAH

‘So I'll regret it. But lead my heart to pain.
Return, if it is just to leave me again.'
                       —Agha Shahid ali

The land of Metaphors

Oh welcome! After so long, finally you got the time to arrive here and hear my plaints of grief and loss!

Daikh kar pooch liya haal mera                                                                                          Chalo kuch to khayal kartey ho…

As you sit by me here, on turning around do you observe these taciturn, sapphire mountains entwined by the silver becks, do you feel the hazy gusts,  blowing from the Peer Panchal ranges ( so many names and legends), slashing at your faces, do you hear its agonized sighs, aimlessly wafting around in the troubled air. These lofty, Himalayan peaks, that silently witness the turbulence in their folds, are tired of heralding the legends and tales that once marked this happy valley;

Lot jaati hai idhar ko bhi nazar kya kijiye                     
Ab bhi dil-kash hai tera husnn, magar kya kijiye

They say I have a legendary provenance, so my children do you now contrive for me a hostile end? You will hear of the names and legends from every corner, every bend, if only you all listen! My dense and lush meadows, the azure lakes, that once were mirrors, the numinous springs, the tuneful falls, the deep woods, that echo the verses of the saints who loved them so much, and the sanctified Vitesta, that you also call Jhelum  (so many names and legends, I tell you), it was a revered flow of harmony to exorcize evils, though profaned now, and as I look, I can’t help but weep, drowning my own existence, yet being a mother, I designed that haven on Taqt-i-sulemaan for you (so many names and legends). The H’ari parbat (so many names and legends) bears the testimony, that I welcomed every faith with open arms, generation after generation, I epitomized composite cultures and rich traditions (some have put that in records too, for which God be praised!), and those kings that made me proud, such spirits they breathed in my burly arms, that for centuries together you had them as celebrated legends, that was a time!  And I remember having taught the sages and pupils from across the borders, long back. The saints who practiced penances in my entrenched caves, holding my hands, how they travelled and prayed, and blessed me as well and may be that is why I am still alive, with my tulips and roses and Chinars and embers.  And did you learn of those tales about the women, they were not just women, they were pious souls, who loved to divulge all their sufferings to me, although they never complained openly. I remember the poets of their lands, and their verses in that language of peculiar vowel intonation, that no other language has. But peace is a harbinger for inexplicable turbulence and I always apprehended that. My anxiety made me to weep, and bawl each time, and there were times when my tears dried up, I was too tired to cry, my parched body, and the cracked crust, huh! You ask me what makes me sob now:

Shaher-e-dil mai ye udaasiya’n kaisi                                                                           Ye bhi mujh se sawaal kartey ho?

But it is not the anxiety that makes me weep anymore. I feel forlorn and sad now. How did you allow others to drive a wedge between you all, why did you part your ways, are you not ashamed of the segregations? Has the festival of unity declined? Have I lost my healing touch? So, I am not surprised by any sell-outs now. After blazing the shrines afire, you attempt to murder me too, I am not surprised!

Dil ki takleef kam nahi’n kartey                                                                                   Ab koi shikwah hum nahi’n kartey

My clammy soil smells of blood, now my waterfalls are turbid with ruby clots. Only I know how I had to enshroud slaughtered hearts, fractured bones, and carcasses with marks of slugs, such blood bathed carnage of innocence! I ask you, has anybody tied the threads at the shrines for peace lately? Will you all let the names and legends die? All seasons look plain to me, for you do not welcome transitions now, hence I weep in every season. I had cradled you in my lap, humming the melody of morality and now, I see you decorating the hearse for me; is this something to see, that with the fading breaths of mother, how the children rejoice! After silently witnessing this profanity for near about a century should I not cry now? Your reflections have rendered my tears murky and I feel helpless.

Muntazir merey zawaal ke hain                                                                                     Merey apney bhi kamaal ke hain

With my shroud will you bestow the honour of martyrdom upon me, or is that too much to ask from you. I was called Satisar once, the world calls me paradise on earth, I am the land of Sufis and Saints, and with each name I baste a legend, because with each name, I am subjected to a new ordeal since centuries, and I still have the strength to endure, for I lead by example. Every corner in me, has a name stitched to a legend and has a story to narrate, I am that legend no one can disclaim, and all my names are no longer names, they are the metaphors, yes -the extended metaphors, that bespeak the beauty, humility, gratitude, humanity, love, unity and peace garnered by me, and then divisions, trials, torments, strife, pain, loss, endurance, fortitude and tenacity impelled upon me. With every martyr touch, I am martyred again, and my arm though frail now, will yet embrace the destiny; see how, each time I burn and rise again from my own ashes like the phoenix. Thus, I am the morose but proud land of metaphors, not just in legends but in history, for I am kashyapmar (ka-shimeera), I am the Kaspeiria, I am KaShi-Mi-Lo, I am Cashmere, I am kasheer, I am Kashmir:Yes- I am Kashmir…..

The day we were born

Blowing off the flame of my yet another precious year, I slash asunder a piece of my ecstasy from the rest of my life, organically manifest by the cutting of this three-tiered chocolate cake, amidst the resounding claps of the people flocked around me in this large festooned hall. The guests come up to hug me, shake hands with me and invariably smother me with expensive and lavish gifts, congratulating me on my birthday as they say. Letting out a wistful sigh, I try braving up a genial smile, in the depths acknowledging my own endurance, having crossed another year of trouble, agony and pain; perhaps the most difficult year of my life would be history now.  The sickly sweet gathering of guests, busy in pompous show of their accessories, with none clad in anything less than a classy brand from head to heels, the rush of the waiters carrying the platters of exotic savouries, the flashing chromatic lights on the floor, the pulsation of the loud music, the fancy buntings adorning the vibrant ramparts, the glittery optical fibers, embellishing the giant pillars and palisades of stairways in the hall and the constant natters of the crowd, cannot be a pleasure to the heart that craves for solitude, longing to be left alone- entirely alone!                                                                                                                          Tired of floundering from one place to another, deprived of the inner peace, on my birthday, today I decide to give myself the gift of solitude or rather loneliness. Nudging my way out through the crowd, I with difficulty manage to get out of the crowded hall, into the adjacent balcony. And here I am- out of the profligate clique of people, now finally alone, with the blazing sun, which is preparing to sleep in the lap of night. The scarlet ball, painting the canvas of horizon with chromatic shades of red, is allegorical to the oblivious carnage of hearts. I breathe in the fresh air, as the placid breeze gently blows against my cheeks, wafting some message, in a muffled tone that perhaps will never reach my ears. I observe the stretch of swaying grass in the verdant field before my eyes, as if acclaiming my presence after such a long time, weaving the ambience of inexplicable delight blend with remorseful despondency, drifting my senses in the state of awe.
The natural aura, lingering in the air around me, has the similar semblance of that bright evening when my eyes first caught your sight, and now as the curve of my lips widen on recalling those memories, symbolic of a smile, is not because I am happy standing out here alone, but because this loneliness has still reserved for me the right to reminisce and inspirit our treasured memories, that lure me into that dear old game, where I still lose in spite of a win, hence today, is such a day that marks your absence for my realization.
Just a year ago, on this day you were standing by my side, nostalgically counting on our promises, errors, reconciliations and happy moments, although since we first met, every time it was I, who had to remind you of my birthday, as your presence was my best gift for this day. It is really funny to see how fate can change the entire pace of life, not only perceptions but dimensions of the life as well; and therefore, I soon found myself wretched in just a night. It was like a steaming volcano that finally erupted to destroy the beautiful city in its fold, without any warnings and the next day-it was all desolation!

Abaadi bhi dekhi hai, veerani bhi dekhi hai                                                                  Jo ujdhey aur phir na bassey dil voh nirali basti hai

I regret not our estrangement now, but my insensibility to foist you in the realm of dilemma, from where even I could never return. I now have discerned that signing some stamped documents in emerald ink can finish the bonds but never the feelings that garner those bonds. So yearning for the impossible, all that I have been doing since a year is befooling my heart and ironically my heart has grown sensible enough to understand that it is being fooled by me, but for how long! Lolling my body over the banisters edging the balcony, I contemplate that how a rose, so alluring to the heart that loves it so much, can hurtfully prick the fingers on being plucked out in oblivion. Why do the intangible feelings, that unite the minds after being blindly bonded, later on allow the prudent minds to question over and again, after pushing the sublime souls in an abyss? And as only the rational minds are left to recuperate the wounded hearts, they work in to diminish the abstract feelings to nothingness.
How I recall, each year you always forgot my birthday but I remembered your birthday, yet you kept on proving the sublimity of our bonding by celebrating everyday with me like a birthday; like our special days. Honestly, I never expected you to remember my birthdays, for I was not so touchy about it, nor did you ever ask me to celebrate your birthday, (Though, I would always pop up at your place with a cake) because somewhere deep down, we both knew, that our love rose above the superficiality of the “days” and the “formalities” that followed, rather it rested on the foundation of a committed feeling of concern towards each other. But when a dream made of glass is broken, whom do we blame- fate, circumstances, void in compliancy, etc, etc; hence, every celebration down the lane of memories is ransacked to a street of desolation, spared only with the cracked windows of pain, the empty cupboards of grief, and the smashed doors of separation.
Enviably the sun never sets alone; for the night will console it and comfort it in its lap- but the expanse of darkness, after the sunset, corroborates the proof of the emptiness that the sky will be impelled to gasp. Although the clouds do not enfold the sky this evening, thus apparently the sky must be smiling as it silently witness the sun leaving its country, but this never means that the sky is not lamenting the separation- The sky must have been tired of crying every evening, just like me. The sky has realized that excessive tears bring only floods and devastations that harm those around us; hence we put up a brave and warm smile that at least will not harm anyone, even if it annihilates us from within. This smile, not only epitomizes the level attained after such an arduous struggle, with which I have reconciled as any other normal occurrence, like the sunset, but also anything below this level will be sheer insult to the degree of our grief, loss and parting.

Ujaaley apni yaado’n ke humarey paas rehne do                                                         Na jaane kis galli mai zindagi ki shaam ho jaaye…..

After you parted your ways with me, many people of great calibre extended hands to hold you firmly, I felt like some queer creature, which on being exiled, had to harmonize with the veneer of the other world. And in this exile, a crowd of familiar faces appear strange to me; so I can’t be consoled now and I am at peace to know, that this strangeness with the outside world will drive me nearer to my inner self. For some time, now I have been looking for the rainbow you gifted me with- the miracle of that rainbow; in one instant cry, bawl, weep, and shout, the next instant smile, smirk, and sigh! The sands of our memories, is gradually shifting loose and may be the tide of time will wash it away soon and I will watch helplessly, as it will be done.

Mat pooch kaun hai; kyu laachaar baithey hain                                                  Mussaafir hai, safar karney ki tamanna haar baithey hain

I wish the best to the lonely night sky, with the stars mocking at. And regrettably, I will have to break my soliloquy, as I see the guests leaving now.                          

After the commotion dies down, my dad calls me to see the gifts I got, as they are unwrapped by the butler. I sit on the chaise lounge, across my parents who are dressed in the daintiest manner. With each gift unwrapped, they sigh in wonder while I maintain a constant smile, hardly looking at the gifts. My gaze shifts to the side table, which supports a pretty net basket, with large sized greeting cards shoved inside it. I pull out one card, and on opening it, a loud birthday tune fills in the room, as everyone is taken aback. I keep it aside in disgust. I pass my time shuffling the greeting cards, reading out the sophisticated surnames of the guests, written on the envelopes. One envelope did not have any name of its giver. Tearing the envelope out of curiosity, I lug out the card. I open the card to read the message inside it. Surprising, rather shocking my senses, I read the name of the person written inside, on the corner at the bottom of title line- a simple card that read just this: WISHING YOU A HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Regards……her name.
Lo abhi jalney ko kuch baaki tha….                                                                               Aur hum samjhey; vo aaye’n hain maatamgiri ke liye
Yes- it was her name! I almost fumbled, feeling all choked up and messed up again; I remembered, that I did not wish her this year on her birthday and she instead had wished me on my birthday, contravening the usual trend! I swallowed! I was confounded by all that I had just read, seen and felt. I felt numb and to be honest, my current position failed any reaction. Standing up, holding the card firmly, I start advancing towards my room upstairs, in a half-absorbed bent of mind, asking my parents to excuse me. I enter my room and dive on my bed, reading the card again, rather that one line again… Tears start to stream down my face and I want to shout, but that rainbow! The next moment I feel inexplicably calm and peaceful. Clasping the card (My best and worst gift that I ever received) close to my chest, feeling morose for the unthinkable that just had happened, I close my eyes on hearing the clock chime at the stroke of midnight, which marked the end of the day we were born!                                                                                            

                                                                        --BY SANA SHAH

A Blank sheet of paper

(First published in ‘The Indian ruminations’)

Being in the prime of my youth, not able to think and contemplate vividly, never was I to be blamed for this. All day locked up behind the doors of my room, trying to discern and comprehend the words of my text books, mistaking information to be the genuine knowledge concomitantly mindful that knowledge transcends the very brim of human reasoning! Knowledge never ends, thus I closed my books and reclined against the back of my revolving chair. Some kind of inner call resonated within, all day long, all night long, while I worked, while I slept, while I dreamt.
Some abstract and intangible questions were tolling my mind over and again. Perhaps thinking; a departure from me would pave the way for the arrival within myself. Being a recluse, demanding constant solitude, sitting alone in the crowd of millions was of no avail, until a journey was to be taken up within the depths of the soul, yes it was like jumping into an abyss without any solid end that my apparent insensibility would land me into!
What baffled me even more, not generalizing though, was the question that will this ever tangled materialistic world, spinning in disarray allow the extraordinary ambience to unveil the ordinary mind. Ambiguity grows in a journey without a preset destination that could ravage the very human existence, which is akin to more of a deep sea oblivious of the treasures hidden in its depth.
Self-contemplation, self-introspection, self-realization; perchance are the concepts of high philosophy, not meant for a child who has not even learnt to walk properly, but closing the eyes, just to believe that, what you see is not there is like a trick devised to delude the illusion itself.
Sitting all day long, not being able to focus and yet focus on something that hardly exists, staring at the walls, cramped up in the chair, hearing the tick-tock of the wall clock trying to douse some invisible fire all in vain, transcending the mediocrity of information crippled in the definition of “knowledge” might be of high relevance and aesthetic sense to some, will yet suffice to spark the excruciating pain, making me to scream helplessly but in the language of silence, if only someone would just listen, someone would just help…..I let the seconds slip into minutes and minutes aggregate into hours. With the gradual darkening of the room, at dusk my eyes open to find myself cramped up in the same surroundings, those same books that I left untouched, that concrete sturdy wall, that peculiar sound of the wall clock indicating something that is running out, connecting the bridges of my identity, explored if not today then tomorrow, I let out a wistful sigh!
With the first light the next morning, those same questions haunt my soul, pounding against my mind as I somehow manage to leave for the jobs of the day in my vehicle for a short journey to my work-place, well mindful of the actual long journey that I am in, a tiring yet a refreshing journey in a way.
To the people I confide in, I ask them those questions that perplex my being, even though knowing that none would be able to satiate my wants, no one can quench this thirst of mine which is not known to them. But yes- the only thing they could do was to distract me from the distraction, may be that was the best thing to do or may be that was the only thing left to do! As the day progressed, I searched for my answers on a map devoid of directions and the best answer I found to my question came just before the closing hours, from one person that led to the articulation of this narration, not accurately forced upon the hearts yet in a way imposed upon human minds, not a piece of blasphemy yet challenging some faith yet to be established, to which we all have reconciled with, incorporating it as an integral part of the answer-seeking temperament of humans.
To all my queries that answer puts an end, yes; she bluntly said to me, “Stop thinking so much for a while!”

Hence I reflected upon……….. I, in a half absorbed bent of mind walked to the main library, believing that all the questions would end if only I would stop thinking for a while and start writing in that while and was I not pondering about my identity, thus my question reduced to only one line: WHO AM I?
And as I entered the library, on the reading table I found before my eyes- a blank sheet of paper!

(For someone who has taught me that over thinking at times will kill you and on my own I realized that it might kill us at times but ironically it might be of help to others. ;) )

--SANA SHAH
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The meeting with his director

He walks in the air conditioned, deluxe room of his opulent apartment again, that stands tall in the soaring building in one of the posh areas of the country. Slamming the door behind him, he halts in the centre of the room, his gaze keenly scanning every corner of his plushy bedroom. He nods, as his glance passes over the oak ledges that circle the textured walls of his room; and adorning those ledges are his numerous trophies, medals, accolades and shields that stare at him perpetually, somehow reminding him that he had everything, yet deserved more and more. He habitually feels that inexplicable uneasiness on realizing that he is being contritely stared at by those typical, familiar eyes, which unravel his concealed, voracious plans under illumination of the dimly lit up room, reflecting his gorgeous looks and elite grace, which the world craved for. He murmurs to himself that if he looked so stunning, then why did not his mirror compliment him ever; and are those dim gaze that stare at him, set to shatter his pride tonight and break his heart to a million pieces again, just because he is impelled not to break it. The parallel image, which is so known to the world outside still, was unfamiliar to him. If he waved the right hand, why did this man waved the left hand against his will, if he was alone, was this man in front of him also lonely, deep down in the heart...or wait- Did he have a heart? If he was the hero for the world, was he then a villain for this man? With the brightness of his eyes, will this man perceive a world of grim darkness...or wait- Did he have a vision at all? Through his moist blue eyes, did this man plot to flood the world? When he did not ask any questions to this man at all, then why did the man impose his answers on him, he never wanted to listen at all. At the junction of fates pretence vanishes, so did that mean he lived in pretence, so was this man original? Did he not once encourage him to rule the world or was he trying to cage him in himself? But he did physically exist and this man did not! He had no dilemmas at all, he was at once decisive, so then was this man confused? The world eagerly awaited his arrival and this man in front of him always loved his departure; Then why? Then why did he always return to this man? Perchance this man was innocent, and he was his criminal, yes- he, a criminal, whose crime can never be proved in any court of justice and no court could ever summon him, let alone convicting him. This man had his own laws, own rules to shatter his existence again. How could this man shout at him like this, when he did not utter a single word? How could he allow this man to summon him, when the rest of world yearned for his appointments? How could this man keep him wide awake the entire night, when the guards outside his room kept a watch for his peaceful slumber…peaceful?
No, peace was a word so alien to his soul now. But he had everything for an ideal life, for his utopia! That is what all kept on telling him, then why did peace evade him. He had a huge bank balance; he owned grand estates in almost every continent, his wallet was invariably ballooned with cash and cards, in the garage he was greeted by the stretched line of lavish cars of all types; he felt he had everything and did not wish for more. He had a job fetching him fortunes, but he wanted to retire, he had friends in outlandish taverns to cheer him up, but he had none to console his miserable instincts. He had a small family across the oceans to make him feel cared for yet could not make him feel missed or loved. And may be that is why peace continues to play ‘hide & seek’ with him.
Hence, this man glaring at him, continues to antagonize him, with his sinister smile…Oh, why on earth, did he not talk to him properly, settling the accounts once and for all, what else should he provide him with, he thought. He never liked to quarrel, but this man instigated that demon in him, when he had entitled himself to the faith of humanity.
Was he an envious lover? But this narcissism irked him and not fascinated him. He was confident enough to conquer the world, then why did this attractive man created barriers for him. Did this man envy his success, or did he envy the peace this man had. If he made this man, then why did the man wish to ruin him? With a broken heart, he was already grief-stricken, and now the little that remained will be shattered to shreds soon, by this man who plotted to bury him alive…alive? Everyone said, he lived the life on his own terms, but he never had any terms or conditions…or they fooled him for the ‘business clause’. And enviably this man, unlike him, was free of any conditions, not expected to follow any ‘business clause’; he was not alive and yet he lived like he never could. With the incinerating sensations, did he not feel his pain?
So what should he do, given that his surroundings, the smothering crowd that flocked around him, the limelight thirsty monsters around him and the snobbish soothsayers entering his house freely, will never allow him the chance to satiate the needs of this man standing in front of him; they will never ever allow him to be driven out of the glum whirlpool. Does that imply he is helpless? No, how dare this man pen down such a mutual consensus without his consent; how dare the man reflect, what he did not emit?

No, no, never…no, no, nooo…noooooo!!! And CLANK, then CHINK!!! A light clattering sound filled in the room
Oh- he again allowed this man to be multiplied to infinity, now he shouts at him from every corner of the room, from every direction possible. He contrives to meet his eyes from everywhere; the peace of the man increasing a multifold- he had a heart, now he reflects the heart; stop, he must. He was everywhere, while the man was nowhere and now, he is nowhere, and this man is everywhere! Just when he was about to finish his meeting with this lean man forever, damn! He hears the creaking of the door. He turns around.

“Sir, the director is waiting outside in the foyer, it is time for the meeting, sir”, his stout and meticulous secretary informs. He slightly nods his head and charily moves towards the closet in the room. Heaving out the designer leather jacket from the wardrobe, he then collects the keys and documents lying on the polished teak-wood study table in a corner of the room and starts advancing towards the door. Reluctantly he walks, lost in some deep contemplation, at the same time well mindful, that he will never be able to end the meeting with his director. His secretary holds the door open for him, as he steps out of his room. He pauses for a moment, looking at his wary secretary, “As soon as I leave, ask the management to send in the sweeper to sweep up the scattered shreds of mirror, all over the floor”, he flatly orders his secretary. Giving a brief nod, the secretary slams the door shut behind him, as he sprucely walks away to meet the director.

                                                                                -BY SANA SHAH

...And she smiled

‘And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation’
                          --KHALIL GIBRAN (The Prophet)

The aura of sadness dawned in once again with the rays of the descending scarlet sun, invading the room through the front window at once in a stroke. The sun, once again shifting its imploding face to illuminate the other hemisphere, rendering us hopeless yet again, adding to her listlessness. The lambent rays on her forlorn face would not comfort her in the least, instead it appeared as if her face was glowing to incinerate with the gleam of the setting sun, as she inertly lay in her bed.
Sitting next to her bed on a swivel chair, I could spot her watery eyes, suggestive of the itchiness caused by the direct exposure to the shaft of light. Standing up from my seat I walked to the window, drawing the curtains over in order to block the entry of light, wishing earnestly that could it not be possible to block death in a similar way, with the shifting light could I not shift the appointed time.
Taking my seat I looked at her troubled face, her infuriating eyes, debilitated body exuding warmth beneath the fluffy duvet, exhausted of floundering from one hospital to the other for over a couple of years now, battling death, she allowed her excruciating mental distress to physically impair her, dominating her physical well-being and now the doctors too had given up all hope, declaring her terminally ill.
Just a few days before on her repeated importunity we had to shift her back from the hospital to her apartment where she had willed to spend her final moments, after all this was a place  she could  proudly call her own. This maisonette, that she had with utmost  care adorned intricately over the years with the hangings of memories , wind-chimes of laughter, panoramic joviality embellishing the vibrant walls, now only this was her prime consolation for her retiring soul ; moreover the doctors did not find expediency in keeping a ward of the hospital occupied for such a conjectural indefinite time period only for a ‘hopeless’ and ‘irremediable’ case, precisely  apt veritable locution to delineate her existing predicament, for how could any drug, pills or herb, no matter how efficacious be of any avail to cure her when she herself did not wish to live! For what appeared as a ray of hope to us, seemed to only ignite her yearning for death, as if enraptured by the tryst she itched over the chase. And now she was on her death-bed, waiting with alacrity for the final moments that would lead the steps for the ethereal transition into some arcane world that would ease her off the acute pain and relentless suffering of this world that she had been accustomed to, after that cursed night of estrangement that had rendered her wretched and harshly dejected.
As all the doors shut on us, one after the other, the only sensible thing left for us to do was to allow her depart in peace, and thus we also appointed a nurse to look after her needs. Her bedroom metamorphosing into more of an ‘ICU’ (Intensive care unit), had been equipped with contraptions and machines to monitor her cardiac activity, pulse rate, blood pressure, body temperature and respiration rate. On her side-tables lay scattered piles of medicines, syringes, nostrums, analgesics and certain anti-pyretics. Next to the upper corner of her bed, stood a long iron stand for clamping the drip-feed that was being administered directly into her blood, as she had refused ingesting any solid foods.
All day she would snuggle in the bed, muffling up the fuzzy duvet around her body. She would recurrently alternate her glances between me and the door, perhaps this was the only movement she made, that would suffice to divulge her last wish in her beseeching eyes for me to read.

Burning from high fever since a couple of days, her cerise body enervated in a way yet her heart had reconciled with her inevitable fate, her sublime soul wanting to set free from the ravages of temporal transience. As I caress her rubicund cheeks, I am amazed at the intensity of heat exuded, perchance the heart has engrossed a vast desert of passion and suffering, annihilating within, that prompts me to recall that peculiar, eerie night when I was sleeping on a couch in the ward in which she had been admitted. And breaking the covenant with her slumber, she suddenly got up in the middle of the night, hysterically uttering something abstruse for my mind to comprehend. She then went on to narrate the apparition she had that night, about her nearing end, all the while perpetuating an idiosyncratic grin with a hint of mystifying exultation, flickering deep in her eyes, which of course was disturbing that for an instance my blustering rationality had been fuddled and I was cold for some minutes. But regaining my composure somehow, I lulled her back to sleep, undermining her premonition for some bad dream.
But that night a part of me was convinced that she did not long to live or as I put it: she did not have a purpose to live.
But who could make her senile parents to discern that their beloved daughter was going to forsake them soon. Her parents had emptied their bank balance on travels to many counselors, doctors and priests and now after such an arduous venture that yielded no result ,they preferred to sit penitently in the adjacent room, refraining from seeing the pitiable sight of their only daughter, suffering from such torturous tribulation. Her mother snivelled day and night, while her father consoled her with false hope but somewhere both realized that they would soon lose their ‘Apple of the eye’ in a matter of days or may be hours, promptly accepted or not, was hardly any clause of stipulation in the divine ordinance, given the helpless yet self-assuring nature of humans.
Not that I did not want to save her but she is too good a human to bear this ordeal that is destined to slowly steal away her breaths. She always deserved a life of honour and dignity- yes, she could have started fresh all over again, if only she would have listened to me once- just once!
Now as I reminisce her life, how exuberant and contented she looked with him. Both were extremely devoted towards each other, cheerfully radiating the warmth and tenderness of their strong bond. His adorable face glimmered in her ochre eyes and her laughing timbre resounded in his speech; both looked perfect but together! Then one fateful day, he walked away form her, distancing himself from her…. forever and everything changed; the world turned upside-down for her and since then she has never been in fine fettle; the estrangement shattered her to the core, forcing her into abysmal trauma and she never recovered.
The vehement passion of wilderness enfeebled her that even today as we count on the seconds, all that engraved on her heart is his memories and she is vulnerable to nothing but to his requiting love, for she has been too much used to this separation now, more than that, the requiting acclaim from him that she hopes for in her silent reverence, merely a self-delusion to avert from despondency, to this day passively consumes her from within.
With such endearing love even the cruelest heart will melt like wax, but he did not. Thus despising her burning fervour, she longed for death believing it for a better choice than that of scrambling with a life void of him.

Being half absorbed in these thoughts, my self cogitation was ruffled at what appeared to be a fretful sight when I looked at her face. Her forehead had just started to glisten with sweat bead seeping out and in a matter of seconds she was sweating profusely. Anticipating my apprehensions of the presage, I immediately called out to the nurse who scurried in the next minute. My raucous screech was enough to hassle her parents, who dashed in the room before the nurse. The nurse perusing the screen that monitored her cardiac activity nodded in disapprobation, clicking her tongue, she sighed.
In the next blink her breathing grew heavier adding to our anxiety; amid all the bedlam as I was set motionless, I noticed a drop of tear slip out of her distended eyes, smoothly trickling down her face, perhaps finally a comfort for her smouldering cheeks, manifest from the peaceful, mystifying and everlasting smile that concomitantly prevailed on her lips, indicative of some last wish that had been just fulfilled finally as she unremittingly stared at the door, her eyes fixed, did not blink. It felt as if time protracted to eternity and some cherubic, placid air filled in the room bewildering my senses to stupor. Naturally following the direction of her gaze, my head turned towards the door. As I shifted my gaze towards the door, my mouth fell ajar and my body froze, entirely benumbed by what I saw rather whom I saw.

Yes- it was him! He stood at the door as I let out a wistful sigh, glancing at his complacent face; in the backdrop, I could hear the repetitive beeps of the monitor and the nurse conversing something with her parents. But in harmony with her focus, my attention too was fixed at his face. The fraught insurgency soon abated his complacency and the next second tears trickled down his face- possibly her fire had been watered and doused now. But on his face too that mystifying, placid, gratifying smile, gently blossomed like her. I again turned my face towards her, and she smiled…. she was still smiling at peace, her one hand in her mother’s hands, her father standing besides her, stroking her disheveled hair, their eyes moist.
The inexplicable blend of emotions was confounding us.
I firmly held her other hand, she was cold now. Apprehensive of the appointed time I glanced at the monitor and the nurse’s words resonated in my ears, “She is sinking!”
Tears streamed down her parents’ face in a surge.
“The blood pressure is dropping”, said the nurse.
The ephemeral speediness at which everything was happening made it difficult for anyone to move. I rubbed her hand in a vain attempt, at the same time on tenterhooks I alternated my fleeting looks between him and her; he had not moved an inch inwards, standing still at the door with moist eyes but the same enigmatic smile persisted on his lips like her; yet his tense face was the answer to her prayers and requital of her patience.
The uninterrupted beep of the monitor grasped my attention the next moment, as I saw the green wavy lines dwindle and subside into a green flat line.
“She is gone!” the nurse vociferated as if we did not fathom the moment.
A distinctive ambience of silence pervaded in the room where just before a minute she was gasping for breaths.
He fell onto his knees, as a clamorous wail ensnared the room. I looked at her cadaverous, pallid face, relieved off the agony and pain, as tears rolled down my wan face and she at peace- still smiled!

Uss aakhri nazar mai ajab dard tha Munír
Jaaney ka uskey ranjj mujhe ummr bhar raha
                —Munír Niyazi

   “That inexplicable melancholy flickering deep in that final gaze
    The poignancy of that valediction so ensnared me for life!”
                                                
                                        -SANA SHAH