Hope,

December 22nd, 2012

Hopes and fear divide one man into a thousand pieces. Humans are superior creations and what makes them fall down are fear and greed. But hopes in thousand pieces combine to make a man. We live in fears. We die everyday. Tragedies and sorrows come from all side. The voices come from within too. The words tear the flesh and meat. The darkness can drive a man to insanity and madness. Yet hope is a savior. It saves us from that gloom.

Write,

December 20th, 2012

Writing is a word that ends in -ing. And as we were told as kids, any word that ends in that way is a verb. Secondly verbs are actions. And no action happens without a reason, so would the writing. There got to be some reason to write. All of our actions are reasoned.
All my writings had reasons. The writings still came even after the reason died or moved away giving another reason to write. A few days ago a friend had her birthday and I was asked to write something. So a "reason" to a writing was there that made the writing be born. Out of blurs of the thoughts, writing is here that can be treated as a birthday token if not a present. Gifts are too dangerous for someone in relationshit.
Aamir Bilal

Excerpt 3,

December 1st, 2012

(Excerpt from a short story I am writing)
It was a cold foggy night. Even though coastal cities don't face fog like the plains of Lahore. Even a mild fog like this reminds me of foggy Lahore, a much younger myself and all my mistakes. Cold was beginning to show it's effect on the windows of the cars. At least ours were getting foggy from our breaths. I looked to my side. He was driving carefully and telling me something. The blurred lights rushing behind and around seemed like a scene from some movie. His words were falling on my ears as I was lost in thoughts. We were about to enter the fourth year of our relationship. Suddenly the car stopped at a traffic signal.
"Woh dekho!" he said
"Kya?"
"Across the street!"
"Kya?Bata do.Mujhe samjh nahin aaya"
"Subha insaan ko nahana chaheye. That keeps a person fresh."
"For your kind information...."
"Yeah yeah, I know." He stopped me in the middle as I was about to clarify.
"Andar chalain?" He smiled and looked at me.
"Pagal ho gaye ho kya?"
"So what! Kuch nahin hota"
"Kise ne dekha aur pakray gaye to"
"Main hoon na yaar. Nothing would happen"
I didn't reply. And lights turned green. We crossed the signal and as soon as we turned up on the next road, he pulled over and parked right in front of the gate and without even telling me he stopped the engine.
"Are you serious?"
"Haan yaar! To aur kya"
"But..."
"But kuch nahin. Let's come."
I was in a shock. How can he make such a sudden plan. And my thoughts were frozen as he opened his door and hopped down. The cold wind made me wrap my sweater tightly around me. And I opened the door.
"Itna andhayra hai yahan", I said, adjusting to the darkness as we stepped inside the gate. There were a few lights on but they were in a distance.
"Zahir hai. Aaj kisi ki shadi nahin na."
He took my hand. It was very relieving. Even in this weather his hands were warm and soothing. It was his presence that was more comforting than anything else. The darkness seemed less worrisome and even the thought of getting caught lessened. I found myself walking down the memory lane and all those events started to roll before my eyes which made me stand where I am today. I looked down and found a red carpet that was wrapped by some polythene. The administration had done this to protect it from fog and vapours.
"Hum kahan ja rahay hain?"
"Wahan bethnay!" He replied
"Kyun?"
"Why you ask so many question?"
"...." I stayed silent
"Because I want to feel how would it be to be seated next to you in front of people"
"..." I didn't say anything but he could feel my smile in this darkness. And his smile deepened.
"Aik baat aur"
"kya?" I asked
"Will we kiss on our day before people?"
"G nahin"
"Kyun nahin?"
"It is not a custom here."
"To kya hua?"
"This is not West"
"But I will. Agar aap ko aitraaz na ho to!"
Even in this weather, I could feel my cheeks burning red. It was then, when his grip on my hands tightened. A feeling of immense joy ran through me.

Rita Who Acted Sita,

November 20th, 2012
Someone once told me
"Flirts cannot love."
It is not true. They can fall in love. Even if the chances of falling are not normal, but the chances are there. Even the flirts themselves obliterate the possibilities of loving someone, you never know when one might just get ill. Another bitter and "fake" reality is that only boys are way into this flirt thing and women on the other hand are poor innocent souls who don't and who can't flirt. To cut the long story short, I once interacted with a lady who was quite beautiful. Sadly she herself knew she was pretty. A little effort of a flirt and she started talking. Over time the talk bloomed to more talks, longer talks and deeper talks. Talks changed to walks afterwards even though those walks were very few. Between these rare walks and lots of talks, she probed me and found out all the flaws I was born with. It was so biased of her that all she saw were the bad parts. Like a sharp girl, she kept noticing them over time.
Once it happened, as it happens to all the women, she was not in a good mood and later in a wave of fury she burst up claiming that the "Flirts aren't good" and "they stab their preys with the same dagger!"
Later I got to know what that dagger was and who the preys were. It is not about proving who was right then or who is still wrong but she exaggerated that entire account. Yes, there were preys as she said and there was a "dagger" as well but it was just a feminine trick to overcome the goodness of a boy. But she kept repeating about this "same" trick so often.

"God."

Like all my writings, here I mention God again. God kept showing the truths and kept saving from the troubles time and time again. He did that again. One night I was walking in a dark tunnel far away from the city when I discovered a chest between the stones of the wall of that tunnel. On that chest were her initials. I got excited assuming it might contain some treasure. When I opened it, all that came out was something that disappointed me, not only artistically but it took away all that goodness, the hopes and the foundations of trust. Standing by that chest, with a candle in my hand, I got to know in that dark tunnel which even the broad daylight could not tell me. In that dim candle-light was God's enlightenment. The one who used to call me a murderer had killed too. Shockingly her murders were more than mine. She had a bigger and more elegant dagger too. In fact, mine looks like a toy gun in comparison. Her preys didn't survive. At least not like happy men after she had her tricks with them. Me on the opposite let my "preys" stay happy and even kept flirting with them. The one who called me bad was on my side of the spectrum too. Her blame game and accusations was just a part of a bigger trick she pulled off so successfully. It was she herself who stood behind a plain glass, wore a fake mustache and pretended to be me! I salute her skills of mimicking all my bad qualities. Today I feel sorry. Not for her. Not for me. But for an honest flirt who broke the tradition of not falling in love. It was in his genes that he did. Nature doesn't change. There is a gene to love too.

Acts and Actions,

June 11th, 2012 / Karachi

It is always between reasons and actions. A suitable reason and then a suitable action. We all do it. Some accept after doing and some don't. I read a line yesterday that someone who can quit a path for a little matter was never walking on the path in the first place.

جو چھوٹی سی بات پر رشتہ ختم کر دے وہ کبھی رشتے میں تھا ہی نہیں 

I still stand to all the actions I did but we all grow up in a society where blind rules are followed, like a murder is hanged for committing a murder and instead of asking him why he did that in the first place is something out of logic and no one ever asks the murderer why he did the act. But sometimes murder is the only solution. It gives a happiness the breathing can never give. That's why when he decides that murder is the only way goodness can be achieved.