To Finities and Funny Things

Dear Death,

Right now, it is 2:03 AM and I just felt like telling you a few things. I mean, I wonder if people ever tell you things about life. People live a little fast, sleep too much, dream a little less of you and well, life is more about ignorance and happiness. You see, happiness sustains in the senses till they are not aware of how trees actually cannot speak the language of our lies. We grow up to rediscover only our fallacies.

Some star that I used to call Sparky gets named B-8779 according to this thing called NASA, or maybe they call it something else now.  Sparky told me stories about how he had hopes for me to be an amazing writer, but this world only tells me that it only burns to give off light. I mean, how does that make sense. I was reading The Little Prince today, somehow, my cognition felt down to its origin to feel better. I was also not satisfied with my day, as I could not get a response from the people I look forward to talking too, at that moment I realised that even though Sparky was not there in the sky anymore like my best friend, maybe because of the dusk in Delhi or some other scientific reason, I was alone only because I was taught what is alone. Sparky died with my acceptance of the subjects. Loneliness was born out of knowing that my father is never happy with my mother when she is not able to help him sort his issues.

You see, dear death, it almost seems to me, that we grow into your need. By default, isn’t it? We are born as a pure stack of beautiful thoughts and then we do make-believe things like chemistry and psychology and sociology and even this language that I am writing in for that matter.

I was born in a way that I admired females in a different way, then I grew older and developed sexual urges. Last week I kissed a girl and now when I am not able to have regular conversations with the girl, my mind acts a little strange. We grow into the need of death. I wish I could simply admire the girl I kissed in the manner I can without hampering my head. But that’s human, developing ideas that only hunts the life within them.

Throw a nuclear bomb at me and I will meet you, but I wonder if I will ever be able to tell you why I lived. The point is, I don’t need to know and that’s what life is, we don’t know. Philosophers like me think day and night, but we never realise that even time is just a cute tool of the mind. How much can I really know till my own mind ages into an oblivion? Why do I even need to do things? I can only have fun with sparky, every night.

I don’t know, death, I just cannot tell you about life. It’s funny. Better not to know that right now my psychology is actually suicidal. How funny is that? They call me an escapist. Even funnier!

Ah, it is humorous to find these grown-ups not able to sit down and smile for no reason.They call it madness and the complaint about how they are not content. I don’t know, I just probably want to kiss the girl again. It brings me closer to myself and to you.

Dear death, I dont know. Let me.

Regards,
Sagar Arora

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9. Asleep Yet Awake

“Are you alright, Atlas? Are you still asleep? It is 5 o clock.” It was Alex, the voice that drove me out of that scary place.

“The dreams are terrible yet, so meaningful.” I tried smiling at her, she looked terrified. Alex would never understand the dreams, she is the best in understanding the human mind, but the sense of mysticism always irritated her.

“Atlas, read less. You are driving yourself into these dreams, and I am afraid you are doing something to your head. I will make you soup, and if you sleep for more than 10 hours, I am calling Dr Louis.” I could not reply to her concerns, I wish I could share the most absurd but beautiful dreams with my wife, but what I have learned over the years of our marriage is her rational set up.

The one thing about her that makes us different from each other is my tendency to drift with thoughts and hers to restrict me, she balances my take on literature. Dr Louis is another rational human who would go to the extent of insulting me on my writings, his feedbacks always helped me in putting together pieces for the radical minds, but his presence used to be imitating. Dr Louis would be the last person I would share my dreams with, I had o visit to the college, I knew Irfan would understand these visions.

Soon, Alex was there with the best soup in the world, in our place for the daily therapy.

“Louis can be helpful, he is a psychiatrist, he might be knowing some mental exercises to calm the rush of thoughts, your fever is gone as well.” she could deduce I was alright just by the touch.

“How was your day? Are you happy with the work?” I had no choice but to change the topic.

“The work was not the problem, you never checked your phone, I was worried.” I picked up my phone, 7 missed calls, all from Alex. And an email, the same adress, which Irfan used before. I opened the mail on the phone and could see a verse and the word rumi at the end. Brought a smile on my face.

The verse continued, sir. It hit me in the camp, I use my friend’s device to email, donnot reply on this mail id. 

 

You, who have fallen asleep in the boat of the body,

You have seen the water.

Now, look upon the water of water.

There is a water which empowers the water;

There is a spirit which moves the spirit

Rumi

The Story Of A Human Being

 

“She had blood, but no nation,

She had love, but not a destination,

She had colours in her life,

She was the Nur of Humanity”

 

She was trapped in a cell, grey walls were the only companion to her thoughts; no memory about her past, just the pain trembling through her nerves to the head where no questions could fall apart. A cell was her knowledge of the universe, somehow a woman in her twenties lost all her vision into an abyss made of four walls. She looked at the gate and gazed to the different colour in hopes, till her eyes lost the sense to behold the vision.

She opened her eyes in the hospital, she heard a lady near her calling out, “Nur?” “Open your eyes Nur”. The woman grabs a sense to a world unknown and he could decipher nothing but the colour of her cloths. She was in a hospital bed, with strings digging into her heart, has she lost it all? She thought, remembering herself, finding her consciousness. She asks out to the people around and the lady replied “My dear daughter, Alllha has blessed us! My dear child, you suffered an accident last month and just regained consciousness. I am so happy to see you, Nur.” She knew her name and the fact about how she cannot retain anything because of injury; she could not find herself within the mist of the situation, but she felt a sense of harmony with presence of the people around her.

Nur found a place in the Khan family as the only daughter and build up a new life, after a few years of regaining the senses of the world, she started teaching in a small school in Pakistan. She was able to educate herself with the new generation and her life was progressing with a normal phase of love and affection for her work.

Her injury remained subtle, but she used to have nightmares having no symbolic representation, she could gain her memories but her positive attitude lead her towards success. She fell in love with a man named Umair, they married and had a baby girl. Nur’s life was running through a simple and sweet approach of time and situation.

One day, Nur and Umair had a vigorous fight over an issue of her working for more hours and not looking after her personal health, the night following to the day bought a tormenting dream.

I remember what was told, shoot the prick in the face, that’s what commander general told me. Ahmed Husain, the man who gave coordinates to the secret Intelligence base in India that reckoned its faith to a terrorist attack. I remember what he said to me, “Neha ! Find the man and shoot the prick in the face”.

The target was aimed, I could sense the feel of accomplishment. I waited for Ahmed to be alone in the room, so that a hit can revenge the vice he initiated to my Nation. My aim was fixed on him, his family went out and the last member that went out was a small girl wearing a pink traditional wear, my heart throbbed for a moment, but I knew the mission that I had to accomplish.

I took the shot and that’s all I remember.

It was 3 am, she woke up with her heart running out a similar sense of pain to her nerves. “It was a dream, it is just not possible.”

She picked up her phone and typed the words AHMED HUSAIN. The search results flushed a sequence of visions, she closed her eyes and realised that Neha was never Nur.

The lady stayed there in her bedroom, with her eyes closed, with a heart throbbing out for something that cannot be described. The feeling could not be highlighted.

She opened her eyes and saw her daughter sleeping gently, the baby was dressed in pink and the single colour provoked a cry of her life.

“What’s the matter, Nur?” Umair asked her, as he woke up in fear.

The room with a family amalgamated through faith was reckoned to silence. The lady took her time to answer and after wiping her tears she said, “ I am lucky to have you, Umair. I love you”

The Song Of Silence

There was this script in the glares of the night,

and one could read the words denied,

the words seemed to sing along the darkness of human heart,

the colour could contrast the living scars.

” The sleep can hold your thoughts to bed,

    with the air you may hold on the  rest,

    when you may seek out of this show,

     and you paint the sky all alone !

    The tree will talk about the rhythm that you need,

    the sea shall imitate the the depth you never read,

    So come along the road and the star.

    Breath all the way to the known,

     Wake up your soul,

     The magic old , And the song that was told, alone.”

The little that we know about human life was forgotten through the rough evolution of thoughts. The peaceful night sky symbolizes the need of that sleep, and the dream that shall bring out imagery of the savior(knowledge and light that contrast the blind). With the trees we can identify the rhythm of our soul(silence), with the sea we can feel the mystery that our reality can hold(depth), the stars shall approach our vision to encounter the uncertain knowledge of the universe, and the curiosity shall lead to salvation of the human entity.