The Door

After leaving the hostel, one day I went back. It was deserted. It was some holiday which is why I was able to go back to Lahore one more time. I hoped to see and feel all that used to give pleasure and bits of pain too. But as that pleasure and pain were so abundant, I thought that they would never end. But death is the ultimate reality which was specifically designed to not let man become God and make him understand the ephemeral nature of his self, his life, and the beauty of life. The staff of the hostel knew me so it was easy for me to go to reach room even being an outsider, by the books. But it was locked. Obviously that put the dilemma that I could not meet the one soul I had come to meet. In a few hours, I had to pack and board the flight and leave Lahore for many years but hoping deep inside me to come back at least one more time and relive all those years of happiness again in a few minutes of reality. The door had a paper plastered on it which we used to convey messages to guests and delivery guys and thought of them containing some “assumed” artistic beauty. Some were nasty, obscene and classless. Some were life lessons and enlightenments. After I left, a few more words were added by the remaining occupant.

Scrolling through pictures yesterday, I came across one that made that whole day so fresh in my mind again. That locked door with the message was a turning point of life or maybe the turning point of life became a door itself. Even today I seek the answer.

Aamir Bilal


November 7th, 2018 / 5:30 AM

چشمِ کم سے دیکھتا ہے کیوں مِری چشمِ پُر آب

تیرے دل کی برف نے دیکھا نہیں ہے آفتاب

یوں گزرتی جا رہی ہے زندگی کی دوپہر

دل میں اک امیدِ کاذب اور آنکھوں میں سراب

خود سَری اُس تُند خو کی جاتے جاتے جائے گی

ایک ہی دن میں کبھی آتا نہیں ہے انقلاب

تم نے ہم کو کیا دیا اور ہم سے تم کو کیا مِلا

مِل گئی فرصت کبھی تو یہ بھی کر لیں گے حساب

ہم کو اپنا شہر یاد آتا نہ شاید اِس قدر

کیا کریں رہتا ہے تیرے شہر کا موسم خراب

ایک خط لکھ کر سمجھنا فرض پورا ہو گیا

واہ باصرِؔ جی تمہارا بھی نہیں کوئی جواب


November 5th, 2018 / 4:08 AM

After twelve years of love, the old flame still keeps burning. The sting of nostalgia and everything associated with it is always hard to give up. Like an old city where a person has lived keeps calling him. Again. And again. And yet again. The old city of Flickr.

I still remember the time when sharing a picture was more of a problem. in fact it was as bigger problem as taking a picture and transferring it to your computer was. that is why more genius people started thinking of a cure and came up with a wonderful service called Flickr. The solution was remarkable but the only shortcoming that I faced with it was the number of images that I could share with someone else was limited to 200. But even that did not stop me from uploading the images as I knew that all the images were safe. At least I intended to get a paid subscription in the later years when I can happily enjoy all the pictures that I have uploaded to the service. There are many detailed articles on the Internet that talk about how Yahoo purchased vehicle and then destroyed it eventually selling it to Verizon after a data breach. But even Verizon could not contain the fallout and the fiasco led to people leaving Flickr. The love for photography has not died, at least not yet. That's the reason why I was hopeful when Smugmug bought Flickr in 2018. They have recently paid attention to all those free hoarders which we can find on almost any community and any service who are there only to pollute the beautiful walled gardens. Just look at what they have done to the Facebook Twitter and Instagram. These were really good places just like mountain towns. Now the crowd has destroyed them. The same crowd found free enterprise grade storage of 1 Terabyte on Flickr. They were the people who were least bothered about community interactions in photography. They just wanted place where they can store their photographs and delete them from the computer and save some space. I remember once a property broker came to the hospital. When I asked him where he himself lived, he told of an average neighborhood just to keep him low profile from all the extortionists. A colleague added “why is that posh town so expensive?” The broker replied, “The taps don’t push out milk in that area. The price exists just to keep the filthy poor out.” To this day I remember his ideology. Free is what made Facebook filthy, Android filthy, Twitter filthy, Instagram filthy. You will never find Bahria Town filthy, DHA filthy, Cantonment filthy etc. Flickr was a great. Then the free-minded settlers moved in. This recent price tag push will kick them out just to let those who care about photos stay.


I think it is a good move in the long run and technology giants like Google or Amazon or Facebook or Microsoft should introduce some bundled service which packs some services under one roof. I would be a lot happy if there existed any such a service that has a section for all the tweet-like statuses being streamed and a blog section for longer blog-posts, a photo drive where all photographs one has ever taken are saved (in their original quality) along those cherished screenshots and a video drive where all the videos are safely backed up. Those who care about their data would happily and instantly move to this amazing town. The service would be more ideal if a personal domain can be linked to it. It is very possible. And eventually someone is going to make this service a reality.

Flickr may start looking like a posh neighborhood in future. But that is what I fear too. I seek peace and harmony which sadly is destroyed by free hoarders. My DNA has so much dust collected from the air and lands of Saddar Town and Walton Colony that I might leave the big mansion of a posh neighborhood when everyone else falls asleep, sneak out, take a rickshaw to that old part of the city and sneak into my old home and fall to a peaceful sleep on the cold concrete floor.

Aamir Bilal

(Zafar Gorakhpuri)

(Zafar Gorakhpuri)

راستے جس طرف بلاتے ہیں

ہم اسی سمت چلتے جاتے ہیں

روز جاتے ہیں اپنے خوابوں تک

روز چپ چاپ لوٹ آتے ہیں

اڑتے پھرتے ہیں جو خس و خاشاک

یہ کوئی داستاں سناتے ہیں

یہ محبت بھی ایک نیکی ہے

اس کو دریا میں ڈال آتے ہیں

یاد کے اس کھنڈر میں اکثر ہم

اپنے دل کا سراغ پاتے ہیں

شام سے جل رہے ہیں بے مصرف

ان چراغوں کو اب بجھاتے ہیں

چڑیل | The Witch

October 8th, 2018 / 4:49 PM

I came across a book while roaming the old bazar. A book about witches. Or better, a book on the subject of witches. The subject has exists in almost every culture, religion and region. Though the ideas, beliefs, myths and ideologies about the evil under the guise of a woman differ. Even the one I was born and raised in has a lot to say about this fascinating subject. From folk tales, dramas, contemporary literature, modern writings to informal gossip, proverbs, urban myths and those evening warnings dadi used to say when we kids wanted to go to the neighborhood park had a talk of this evil figure.

As I grew up, so did that churail (چڑیل). She has lost that horrifying makeover from my earliest perceptions. Maybe those perceptions came into existence from all that was spoken about her. No more exist her hard reptilian skin or her beastly nails. The glowing white or black-hole dark eyes are gone too. She doesn’t levitate in the air or walk on the ground with those inverted feet of hers. The horrifying mask of her has fallen. Out has come the appearance I had never expected. Organic. Staple. And normal. Like any other non-witch being. Only a master with a skill and experience of defeating the evil of a thousand witches and beasts might be able to spot her. The fools of men would never be able to do so, even with a thousand eyes. Perhaps that is the reason why she mixes herself so well in the crowd and ordinary mortals fail to spot her truer self.

Not all definitions you start believing in exist in dictionary. Not all ideas you follow are taught at a school. The experience is, after all, the best teacher. It is that very same experience which helped craft definitions for hard-to-define and impossible-to-define concepts including those of life, death, love, divine and the witch. From the hideous and centuries old reptilian skin has come out a normal and organic witch who looks like any other woman you come across. In her definition, she has been to the universities and beyond. She has a social media presence which she aptly uses for two of the most nefarious purposes - propaganda and stalking. Beyond her apparent modernist ideologies live a centuries old soul, if soul has something to do with her, the beliefs of which would not bend with the fevers of present era. Modern age’s men would not stand a moment before her ancient powers.

At least two of the short stories from my book are on this topic too. This number does not do justice as the number of witches that helped define her out of experience is higher. I know at least a few of them would surely read this. Yes, this is for your eyes. You are the witch for you know the evil under your skin better than any mortal ever can. A few of the witches were kind enough. They didn’t suck blood even after biting, in a very literal way. None of them had inverted feet even when some had feet that incited the foot fetish and helped it evolve. I always wondered what if one day she reveals her true nature and the feet bend backward, would my fetish stay the same or disappear? This itself takes that definition to a new level. What if that horrendous scary skin was not what she removed. What if this is the skin she just wore on to mix among her human preys? But a few witches kept saying that men are dogs. Really, if men had been, they would have seen her true self. I was told dogs see what humans cannot. Maybe the inner dog found a bone in this book bazar. It will help him come up with an evolved definition.

Aamir Bilal

August 26th, 2018 / 7:26 PM


ردیف قافیہ بندش خیال لفظ گری
وہ حور زینہ اترتے ہوئے سکھانے لگی

کتاب باب غزل شعر بیت لفظ حروف
خفیف رقص سے دل پر ابھارے مست پری

کلام عروض تغزل خیال ذوق جمال
بدن کے جام نے الفاظ کی صراحی بھری

قصیدہ شعر مسدس رباعی نظم غزل
مہکتے ہونٹوں کی تفسیر ہے بھلی سے بھلی

بیان علم معانی فصاحت علم بلاغ
بیان کر نہیں سکتے کسی کی ایک ہنسی

حریر اطلس و کمخواب پنکھڑی ریشم
کسی کے پھول سے تلووں سے شاہ مات سبھی

گلاب عنبر و ریحان موتیا لوبان
کسی کی زلف معطر میں سب کی خوشبو ملی

کسی کے مرمریں آئینے میں نمایاں ہیں
گھٹا بہار دھنک چاند پھول دیپ کلی

کسی کے شیریں لبوں سے ادھار لیتے ہیں
مٹھاس شہد رطب چینی قند مصری ڈلی

کسی کے نور کو چندھیا کے دیکھیں حیرت سے
چراغ جگنو شرر آفتاب پھول جھڑی

کسی کے حسن کو بن مانگے باج دیتے ہیں
وزیر میر سپاہی فقیہ ذوق شہی

نگاہیں چار ہوئیں وقت ہوش کھو بیٹھا
صدی دہائی برس ماہ روز آج ابھی

سیاہ زلف گھٹا جال جادو جنگ جلال
فسوں شباب شکارن شراب رات گھنی

ظریف ابرو غضب غمزہ غصہ غور غزل
گھمنڈ قوس قضا عشق طنز نیم سخی

گلابی گال شفق سیب سرخی غازہ کنول
طلسم چاہ بھنور ناز شرم نرم گری

نشیلی ٹھوڑی تبسم ترازو چاہ ذقن
خمیدہ خنداں خجستہ خمار پتلی گلی

گلا صراحی نوا گیت سوز آہ اثر
ترنگ چیخ ترنم ترانہ سر کی لڑی

ہتھیلی ریشمی نازک ملائی نرم لطیف
حسین مرمریں صندل سفید دودھ دھلی

جو اس پہ بوند گری ابر کپکپا اٹھا
اس ایک لمحے میں کافی گھروں پہ بجلی گری

قیامت آ گئی خوشبو کی کلیاں چیخ پڑیں
گلاب بولا نہیں غالباً وہ زلف کھلی

کمال‌ لیلیٰ تو دیکھو کہ صرف نام لیا
''پھر اس کے بعد چراغوں میں روشنی نہ رہی''

عطائے حسن تھی قیسؔ اک جھلک میں شوخ غزل
کتاب لکھتا میں اس پر مگر وہ پھر نہ ملی




August 10th, 2018 / 4:33 PM
Two years is too long to wait for a movie. I have waited for this movie to be released from the day I heard about its story. Some months ago a staff member from TheVerge was invited to the screening of the film. He along others gave pretty good reviews about it. It's class could not be doubted after I came to know that my favourite studio A24 bought its rights to the distribution. Then I wanted the studio to release it as soon as they can. But they kept me waiting. I knew that this movie would never be released in Pakistani cinemas which are home to classless movies.

The subject of the movie is horror and horror itself is a vast subject especially when it comes to the movies. Found footage, monsters, cults, vampires, zombies, psychological horror, etc. All the reviews of the movie up to that point were from the people who were at the screening and they all agreed that the movie is as mind bending and twisted as another horror movie GET OUT. 

I found a pretty decent yet pirated version of the film through a Reddit post but the movie was dubbed in Russian. So I downloaded that sick print which was in English too and then using my low-grade knowledge of video editing, I layered the English audio track on top of that good Russian print. I could not wait any longer. And I watched HEREDITARY. There is no doubt that movie is one mind bending film. People are really discovering new heights when it comes to the genre of horror and this movie proves it. 

The movie is about a family who has recently lost their grandmother. Their days of mourning  extend when the tragedy strikes them again, sooner than anyone expects, including the viewer. As the film proceeds an observer starts to realise that everything is not what it seems to be in the first place. A nasty unseen evil exists which can be felt but not seen. So far this is the best horror movie I have seen in 2018. I really wish that by now there must’ve existed a far better version of the film. Anybody who loves the genre of horror should stop doing whatever they are and should watch this film. Immediately.

A24 does not feel to disappoint once again. 

Twice the same crop

August 5th, 2018 / 10:09 PM

A man in my neighborhood just divorced his wife. That is not a new thing. It's not the first time somebody has divorced his wife and certainly it's not the last time either. The term divorce and the whole dilemma that surrounds it is our social stigma. People are happily accepting bigger monsters yet this word frightens many. It is not just the act that is scary. The repercussions are what go deeper. When one faces a similar situation they don't want anybody else to talk about it as it pertains to them. But when they listen about someone else getting divorced, this talk becomes a favourite topic for them. It itself is the evil polarity that will destroy the society in the end. Polarity will kill as many as global warming would. 

My next door neighbour is a very polite and a humble man. I've not heard any negative air about him which partly is because he does not interfere in the works of either the union or anybody else in the neighborhood. He limits to himself. That is why when I heard that he had divorced his wife after a night of long, loud and scary arguments which started after midnight, I took some time to believe in what the people were talking about. The very next day when I was going for work, I saw that man with a burqa clad woman. Right at the entrance of the building, two old ladies were whispering something to each other and pointing towards my neighbour. I knew that it could not be something good or positive. Obviously the biggest monster in our society is not the vampire who can walk on walls and can suck all the blood out of you in a minute. The biggest monster is not the one who becomes a wolf when the first ray of moonlight hits him. It is not even that unstable mind who would pick up a gun and without a second thought kill the innocents. You guessed it right! It is that man who divorces his wife even if the bridge of the marriage started to collapse at the end of the wife. At the time of this writing, I came to know that he divorced his wife for another woman. 
Nothing new. 
It happens. It can happen. 
That is how humans are. Nobody likes to eat the same thing at dinner for the rest of his life. But my neighbour’s new dinner came from the same restaurant. He married the sister of his wife. The size of the monster grew in the eyes of the society when the people came to know that both of his wives are living in the same apartment and he has not formally divorced the first wife before marrying the second one. It is a twisted society perhaps. I was hungry at the start of day and decided to eat something fancy. However at this moment I am feeling that no restaurant can serve me good. I would skip dinner.  


August 1st, 2018 / 05:51 PM

They don’t understand the waves that reach the shores.

They don’t understand the songs they carry.

They don’t understand the things they speak.

They don’t.

Reset Button

August 2nd, 2018 / 3:30 PM
Even at old age a lot of people want to become young again. There is a price of being young. Of learning and experiencing the same things including troubles and pain. After realising the actual price of starting the life over again, many don't want to press the reset button and give everything up and face the same tortures and the same monsters for another time. Nobody wants to die twice just to be in the same heaven. 
Changing one’s primary method of communication to a newer bridge is not comfortable. Surely has the same price. Without a doubt, the advantage is as enormous as the hardship. I waited for almost 15 minutes in the hall before the realisation hit me. I got up and walked home. I can live with the monster but I don't have either the stamina or the courage to get a new number yet again and start the life from the beginning. I cannot press the reset button. I guess that’s why a lot of men do not develop the same wish you get married once again after marrying for the first time. They can opt for much comforting and easier adventures instead of falling in a pit with fewer hopes of ever coming out of it again. So let’s not press that button. Let’s never press that button.

Image 034.png

The Skin Of A Woman

July 28th, 2018 / 10:55 AM
I peeled the skin of a woman and under that was her truer self. The curious monster who looked so good. There is no doubt that with the charms of those appearance, there would be many fools of men the monster would have pulled and swallowed. A monster, however, lived inside me too. Not as charming and nor as ugly as hers, it saw the broken skin on her outsides. Curiosity made him have a look inside. In the end it was frightened and I was content. My hunch was right. The ugly monster is still alive.

First of July

July 1st, 2018 / 4:24 AM
It’s someone’s birthday. Everyday is someone’s birthday. So is today. When we were together we had a good time. A golden time perhaps. Only if that could be re-lived. But the bigger question is a forgetting. Will either of us forget that again if we relive it? But the question breaks when I realize that I have not forgotten it at all. I have no idea of the other side. If someone comes and sees my end, they will still find my side of the bridge intact. Maybe the same exists on the other end. Yet the bridge fell. It is another why that cracks all the peaceful sleep and harmony. When we were together we once talked about life and afterlife and decided that either of us who stays behind when one is no more should tell the next ones about how many years we stayed in each other's lives. I still believe that silence is not absence, it never is. Has God ever talked to you? Yet when you pray, you think that he is there. The number of years we talked are now less than the number of years we haven’t. I wish the wiser of us was more wise. And I play the role of a fool in most plots. It is the first of July and I wish happiness for the other end of the bridge, even if it has fallen. 


June 24th, 2018 / 4:00 AM

WestWorld’s season two comes to an end. But as it has become a successful franchise, the producers will keep skimming profit from making sequels and spinoffs. The first season Made me watch the very first movie from which the season was inspired in the first. I found the plot of the first season very similar to the original movie which had pretty lame special effects as compared to the modern time. Everybody was talking about the second season but it was not released in a way Netflix releases its Originals. All the episodes were not released on the first day which is why I was waiting for the day when the last episode gets aired and then I can watch the entire season peacefully without any breaks. 

A good idea when always leave some marks on your mind even when you don't want any.
The similarity shown in the drama with that of religious preachings and what effect religion and Society has on the life of a person cannot be missed once you start thinking about the analogy  shown in the drama. Higher intelligent beings create a park for their own dark fantasies which they cannot satisfy easily in their everyday world. To populate that park they create inferior mechanical beings which are posted to play their own roles following repeated narratives. From ancient Greece to the Pharaohs and from the ancient recorded religions to the modern interpretations of Christianity and Islam, the two major religions in the modern day world, this similarity cannot be overlooked. Movies have talked about it, stories exist about it and now another drama which I was waiting for to end also exists about it. Some higher intelligent beings created humans but to keep a check on humans and to keep them human in the first place they introduced the concept of death. So no matter how intelligent or rich you are, in the end you die. No matter how good or bad you are, your life has an end. No matter how famous and how wanted you are, you cannot escape death. Never!

I recently came across the quotation which states that death was introduced by God to keep men from not becoming God. This triggers another that whether the first person to crack the mystery of death and to live beyond the phenomenon of death was a mere mortal who achieved eternal life and became God. But even then that does not give him the superpowers need for creating the entire universe.

There has always existed a curiosity in men from all eras about knowing the creator. Westworld makes you think about the creation of man. A similarity between those Hosts who are merely toys for the satisfaction of those who created them is a scream.  What if the person who is writing this is a toy and the person who is reading it is another and we are just following a story line created by the creator. Then we die and the next day we wake up again with no memory of who we were in our previous lives. I hope this thought and this idea pollutes your mind for the time to come and the creator doesn't reset you before the next role. 


June 22nd, 2018 / 10:02 PM

ہوتے ہیں بدن کیسے گلستاں، نہیں دیکھا

منظر وہ ابھی تم نے مری جاں! نہیں دیکھا


ہم صبح ومساجان بہ لب حبسِ چمن سے

اور ہم پہ عتاب اُن کو کہ زنداں نہیں دیکھا


جس شاخ کو تھی راس نہ جنبش بھی ہَوا کی

پھل جب سے لُٹے پھر اُسے لرزاں نہیں دیکھا


چھلکا ہے جو آنکھوں سے شبِ جور میں اب کے

ایسا تو کبھی رنجِ فراواں نہیں دیکھا


مدّاح وہی اُس کے سکوں کا ہے کہ جس نے

مہتاب سرِغرب پر افشاں نہیں دیکھا


جب تک ہے تصّرف میں فضا اُس کے بدن کی

ہم کیوں یہ کہیں تختِ سلیماں نہیں دیکھا


دیوار کے کانوں سے ڈرا لگتا ہے شاید

ماجدؔ کو کئی دن سے غزل خواں نہیں دیکھا


June 21st, 2018 / 3:36 AM

Steam sale just went live. I had an ever growing wishlist of real, unreal and virtual things and that includes more than a few games. But I won’t go into those. That would be some other time. I keep coming back to my favorite games even when the collection has already crossed the number of sanity. I still haven’t scored an S in all levels of MGSTPP and I am still unable to defeat a boss in Cuphead. Yet, the inner gamer boy from the school’s days looks at me through the other side of the window. I know that he would make me spend at least some hard earned money. The dilemma that I had faced from the earliest of the days is that not all of my cherished titles exist on one platform. This is an (evil) business trick used by giants like Sony and Nintendo to push people to buy their hardware. I am happy that at least a remastered Crash comes to my side on the 29th of this month.


June 10th, 2018 / 00:31 AM

نہ باز آئے یہ لُو اور نہ تن سے جاں نکلے

بجائے زمزمہ بیرونِ لب زباں نکلے


ہمیں بہار کے ہونٹوں کی نرمیوں کے امیں

ہمیں وہ برگ کہ پیغمبرِ خزاں نکلے


جہاں گلاب سخن کے سجائے تھے ہم نے

شرر بھی کچھ اُنہی حرفوں کے درمیان نکلے


زخستگی لبِ اظہار کا تو ذکر ہی کیا

کشش سے جیسے قلم کی بھی اب دھواں نکلے


ہمارا حال جبیں سے ہی جاننا اچھا

زباں سے کیا کوئی اب کلمۂ گراں نکلے


حضورِ یار ہیں وہ جاں سپار ہم ماجدؔ

ہو حکمِ قتل بھی اپنا تو منہ سے ہاں نکلے

بھولی باتیں

June 8th, 2018 / 02:42 AM 

اپنی ڈائری میں لکھی ہوئی کچھ باتیں دوبارہ پڑھیں تو بہت حیرت ہوئی .  مجھے کچھ یاد نہیں کہ یہ سب میں نے کب لکھا .لیکن جوں جوں ایک ایک لفظ میری آنکھوں کے سامنے سے گزرا  ہر پرانی چیزتازہ ہوگی . لوگوں کی کی ہوئی مہربانیاں بھی . اور دوستوں کی کی ہوئی نہ انصافیاں بھی . نہ جانے میں نے یہ سب کب لکھا . اتنی پرانی باتیں پڑھ کر لگتا ہے .کہ شاید وہ کوئی دوسری زندگی تھی . لیکن میں تو تب بھی میں ہی تھا


دی ادر سائیڈ | The Other Side

June 6th, 2018

فلمیں دیکھ کر یہ پتہ چلا ہے کہ جنگ ایک خوبصورت چیز نہیں . میں نے خود تو کوئی جنگ نہیں لڑی. لیکن یہ سمجھنے کے لئے کسی جنگ میں جانے کی ضرورت نہیں کہ جنگ ایک جہنم سے کم نہیں. کوئی بھی کتاب اور کوئی بھی فلم ایک جنگ کی حقیقت کے ساتھ انصاف نہیں کر سکتی . بھلا یہ کیسے ممکن ہے کہ سالوں جاری رہنے والی حقیقت جو لوگوں کی زندگی کو تباہ و برباد کر کے رکھ دے وہ دو گھنٹے کی فلم یا دو سو صفحے کی کتاب میں سما جائے . فلم بنانے والا بھی ہمیں صرف وہی چیز ہے دکھاتا ہے جس سے اسکی فلم کامیابی سے چلے اور اس کے پیسے اس کو واپس مل سکیں

 اس رمضان صبح کو جب سب سو رہے ہوتے ہیں تب وقت کاٹنے کے لئے میں نے ایک کتاب کا انتخاب کیا اس کتاب کا نام ہے دی ادر سائیڈ مختصر حقیقت یہی ہے کہ یہ کتاب دماغ کو پریشان کردیتی ہے یہ کتاب دو فوجیوں کی کہانی ہے جو ویتنام کی جنگ میں حصہ لینے اپنے ملک سے آئے ہیں . ان میں ایک فوجی امریکی ہے اس کی تربیت اور اسکے حالات ہیں دوسرے فوجی سے بالکل مختلف ہیں . یہ امریکہ میں ایک خوش زندگی گزار رہا ہوتا ہے جب ایک دوسرے فوجی کے مرنے پر فوج ا سے ویتنام بھیجنے کا فیصلہ کرتی ہے . یہ ہر حربہ استعمال کرتا ہے کہ اسکا وہاں جانا کسی طرح ملتوی ہو جائے .  اس شہر میں جتنی بھی جسم فروش لڑکیاں کام کرتی ہیں یہ کچھ دن میں ان سے تعلقات صرف اس غرض سے بناتا ہے کہ اس کو کوئی بیماری لگ جائے اور یہ وہاں جانے سے بچ جائے . یہ اپنے ڈاکٹر کو بتاتا ہے کہ یہ ہم جنس پرست ہے اور فوج میں اس جیسے کی ضرورت نہیں لیکن اس کی ہر ترکیب الٹ پڑ جاتی ہے. دوسرے فوجی نے اپنے گاوں دیہات میں ہونے والی تباہی کو اپنی آنکھوں سے دیکھا ہوتا ہے اور اپنے ملک کے لوگوں کی دریا میں تیرتی ہوئی لاشیں اور انکی بھٹکتی ہوئی روحیں نظر آتی ہیں جو اسے کہتی ہیں کہ اس کو اپنے فرض کو نہیں بھولنا اور جنگ میں دشمن کو ہرانا ہے
کہانی میں جنگ میں رونما ہونے والی پر تشدد اور ظالمانہ تباہی کا ذکر ہے .  کس طرح یہ جنگ ان دونوں فوجیوں کے دل و دماغ پر گہرا اثر چھوڑتی ہے یہ سب اس کہانی میں واضح ہے . جوں جوں آپ کہانی پڑھتے ہیں آپ کو سمجھ آنے لگتا ہے کہ کیسے اس گھنے جنگل میں دونوں فوجیوں کے کردار بدلتے ہیں . مجھے یہ کہانی پڑھ کر اس لیے بھی اچھا لگا اس کہانی میں کسی ایک مذہب یا کسی ایک ملک یا کسی ایک خیال کو باقی کسی خیال پر حاوی نہیں کروایا گیا . انسانی کہانی کے غیر انسانی تجربات بھی بہت خوبصورتی کے ساتھ نظر بند کئے گئے ہیں . تو اگر کوئی جنگ اور خوف اور مافوق الفطرت مخلوق و حالات کے بارے میں کوئی کہانی پڑھنا چاہیےتو یہ کتاب میرا عاجزانہ مشورہ ہے

کم از کم ایک دن کا روزہ کاٹنا تو آسان ہوگا . یہ گرمی کے روزےکسی خوف سے کم تو نہیں 


June 5th, 2018 / 1:39 PM

People have no idea how hard it is to save a text message forever especially when you use a phone that has limited built-in storage and is from the year 2003. I used to have a Siemens phone many years ago when I started wasting money on text messages. It was a time when the text messages were all the rage and soon the number of text messages that I was exchanging increased exponentially. But as that increase happened, I kept getting nagged by that warning that my inbox memory is almost full and I must delete a few messages. I am an emotional being and I was emotionally attached to every word that I wrote, it was very hard for me to delete even those messages that were a response to the words that I created. That is why I used to write those text messages that really mattered on a separate diary. A tragedy that I lost one such diary when I left Lahore. Some pages of that diary exist as a scan and survived in that way.

Later on when phones were replaced by smartphones, it became very easy to move thousands and thousands of messages out of your phone in such a format that they could be transferred to the phone when needed or could be converted into a more computer friendly document like a WordPad or Excel sheet to be read away from phone on a computer. Then came the time of iPhone and it became extremely easy to export the entire thread of communication as a pdf or a word document. Hence almost 70 to 80% of the messages that I exchanged with people still exist in my archives after almost a decade of that chat.

The last three months had been quite energetic. I got the time and the thinking to pull all the messages together into one place which I, maybe after a decade or or two, open publicly. That task needs to be started today if it needs to be completed by that time. That is exactly why after an effort of almost 2 months I am able to collect and combine all the text messages and sort them in a chronologically organised way. I added them to my archive. No, I am not that ill-mannered to hurt the privacy of anyone. To protect people from the dilemma of who-is-who I changed the names of the people to the name of their alter-egos or to their doppelgangers in some instances. So their privacy is intact. It fills me with extreme satisfaction that at least one copy of this part of life got documented and it might survive in a digital way and not become a forgotten realm. As of this writing, that archive stays protected behind a set of passwords. For the curious eyes and stalkers, it is a message that if you can sustain the fires of curiosity and fuel them for a few more years, then stick around till the archive opens. A spoiler, nostalgia does hurt too. Stay frosty.


June 3rd, 2018 / 7:14 PM
I had been reading old writings that exist only on paper during the last couple of weeks. The effort to get things digitized cannot be achieved without mentioning the people that made up life. With time quite many people have become irrelevant enough to not even think about their name at all. That is why I faced a dilemma with only two possible solutions. Either to drop those posts completely that would mention those people. Or I give them some alternative name. Both these solutions have one advantage and one massive disadvantage. To drop the posts, kills the purpose of the task in the first place. And if I give every person a new name, it will become very hard to remember who become who and slows down the thought process and contaminates it. That is when I thought of a very remarkable solution. Doppelgängers. Almost everyone who touched life in any way bears a resemblance to someone popular like a movie star. Thankfully most if not all exes have a doppelgänger in at least one pornstar. The problem is already solved. One adult performed who looked like an amazing lady in life took her own life in December of 2017. Many have already forgotten her. Now everytime when I see that amazing lady already in life, the face of that dead performer pops up. I guess it is not easy to be a doppelgänger and also not easy to know who is whose. Just like not knowing is a blessing, knowledge is a plus too.