Uncomfortably Numb

 اک ایسی دنیا کا تصور کرنا جہاں بھائی جان منور نہیں رہے بہت مشکل ہے، لیکن حقیقت یہی ہے کہ ہم آج اسی دنیا میں ہیں۔ مجھے ایسا لگتا ہے جیسے میں نے اپنے والد کو دوسری بار کھو دیا ہو۔ وہ ہمیشہ میرے ساتھ تھے، ایک ایسا سہارا جس سے میں ہر مشکل فیصلے میں مشورہ کرتا۔ جب بھی میں ڈگمگاتا، وہ مجھے تھام لیتے۔ ہر دو ہفتے بعد وہ فون کرتے اور صرف یہ پوچھتے: “سب ٹھیک ہے؟ تم ٹھیک ہو؟” میں بھی ان کی خیریت دریافت کرنے کی کوشش کرتا، لیکن ہمیشہ وہی بازی لے جاتے۔ میں اب ان کی یادوں کو سمیٹنے کی کوشش کررہا ہوں تاکہ لکھ سکوں، اور احساس ہوتا ہے کہ چند یادوں کے علاوہ میں ان کے بارے میں کتنا کم جانتا ہوں۔ وہ مجھ سے تقریبا 18 سال بڑے تھے، اس لیے میں نے ان کے ساتھ وہ بچپن نہیں گزارا جو میرے بڑے بھائی اور بہن نے گزارا۔ وہ نیک اور اصولوں پر قائم رہنے والے انسان تھے۔ اگر انہیں لگتا کہ آپ غلط ہیں تو سیدھا خلوص کے ساتھ کہہ دیتے۔ میرے لیے وہ ہمیشہ ایک بڑے کی طرح رہنمائی کرنے والے اور سمجھانے والے تھے۔ مجھے یاد ہے جب میں تیسری جماعت میں تھا، ان کے کوٹ ہمیشہ ٹنگے رہتے تھے اور ان کی جیب میں چاکلیٹ بار ہوا کرتا تھا۔ میں ر...

It’s so hard to imagine a world without Bhai Jaan, and yet here we are. I feel like I’ve lost my father twice. He was always there, someone I could consult when facing tough decisions. He always stopped me from wavering. Every two weeks or so, he would call just to check on me… “Sab theek hai? Tum theek ho?” I would try to do the same, but he always had the upper hand. I’m trying to remember things about him that I can write down, and I realise that apart from some memories I know very little about him. He was eighteen years my senior, so I didn’t share a childhood with him the way my elder brother and sister did. He was righteous and firm on moral principles. If he thought you were wrong, he would tell you directly, but with sincerity. As for me, he guided me and often pointed out things to me like an elder should. I remember when I was in 3rd grade, Bhai Jaan used to have his coats hanging, and there was always a chocolate bar in one of the pockets. Every day I would eat it, but the ...

There goes the sun Days go by life goes on I stare at the mirror What face should I put on Twists and turns abound Life keeps you guessing Gives wound after wound Shadows run you aground  Wonder why this has to be The fiends still roam free While you suffer silently They dance with cruel glee Cant write happy words the heart cannot feel Cant ignore the absurd Its etched once heard I move on severing those  Tarnished hearts Empty souls From ashes I did arose Once again I suppose 

Blink blink blink The curser stares words to describe The emptiness That song in my ear Something familiar Does nothing for me The music stops Nothing there to numb Nothing there to hide Their lies bare No remorse in stares They still roam free Black hearts, lustful eyes Pay they must turn to dust What else is there No faith and despair Rotten to the core That face I abhor Rage is all I feel crave that final squeal Crushed to paste Dogs have a meal

Nothing prepares you for the betrayal of those once trusted and respected. I often wonder how vile and petty people can be, and time and again I am rewarded with examples—even from those considered untouchable when it comes to trust. They roam the world cloaked in masks of piety. They pray five times a day. But it is all theater, a facade to hide what festers inside: a sewer of pus and bile. Everyone has dark impulses. That is human. But evolved beings, guided by intellect, morality, and faith, learn to control them. These people do not. They refine their impulses into intentions. They plan, they connive, they act with malice. They are a rare breed that should never have been allowed to spread their poison further. There are no words strong enough to capture my contempt. Their very existence is loathsome, and everything they touch is tainted. They are a cancer eating through the fabric of morality. And like every cancer, every tumor, they must be cut out so the body can survive. ...

 وہ کہتے ہیں دل کی دھڑکن  کو نکالو اور پھینک دو وہ کہتے ہیں یہ سامان کسی کام کا نہیں جو تم ساتھ ساتھ لئے پھرتے ہو جسکی حفاظت تم نے فرض سمجھی وہ اب اک ویرانہ ہے وہاں کچھ بھی باقی نہیں رہا اسے چھوڑ دو اسے پھینک دو میں کہتا ہوں تم نے کبھی محبت کی بھی ہے؟ یا شاید تم سےمحبت کی نہیں گئی اگر یہ احساس کبھی ملا ہوتا تو تمہارے لفظ کبھی  اتنے زہریلے نہ ہو پاتے تم دنیا کے پوجنے والے اِک ٹوٹے کیواڑ کا مول کیا جانے جو کبھی ایک ماں کے آنگن کا  پتہ دیتا تھا تم خودپرست لذتوں کے مارے اِک پرانےصندوق کا مول کیا جانے جس میں ماضی کے نہ جانے کتنے  سنہری لمحے  بند پڑے ہیں جس میں سے اب بھی َََِاِک باپ کی خوشبو آتی ہے ان پر ترس آتا ہے  جنہیں کبھی وہ محبت نصیب نہ تھی جو وجود کا حصہ بن جائے  لمحہ لمحہ ہر نصیحت بن کریاد آئے تو ہاں میں ضرور پھینک دوں گا ان سب کو اپنی زندگی سے باہر جنہیں میرے وجود  اور اسکی یادوں سے کوئی  سروکار نہیں

Somewhere between the stillness of childhood afternoons and the rusted gates of departure lounges, a quiet wind began to pull at him. It wasn’t a map he carried, but a pulse — a knowing that the ground beneath his feet was only a chapter, not the book. His sister drifted toward the southern sun, his brother to the cobblestones of Europe, and his parents had already spent much of their lives under skies far from his own. The restlessness grew like an untended vine, searching for a wall to climb. And then came the fracture. A single day split into before and after. A goodbye at the edge of a road, a wave, a turning away — and the world folded in on itself. Two souls went with the dusk, one small hand still remained in his. He would carry both the weight and the light of that survival forever. Loss was already etched into the grain of his life. It had come before in hospital rooms, in whispered diagnoses, in empty chairs at the table. And it never ended. Now it wears a new face — the cons...

When you dream about migrating yo never realize how much toll it will take on you emotionally, at that time you are just worried about the logistics and once that’s done you are then ferociously hit with the enormity of your decision. I was definitely not prepared for it. My life, my work, my position, all the things I thought defined me are gone. The things that anchored me like my house, my neighboured, my city, all that is gone as well. I feel like a discarded thing, of no value. The worst thing about it is that it’s of my own volition. I am not here to complain cause I knew it would be staring from scratch, but knowing something and experiencing something are completely different things, Ive come to understand.  It’s like becoming a part of a well oiled machine, where you are seen as redundant maybe useless as well. I am writing this to document not spread blame or shade on anyone, just trying to understand or just withstand the shear ache of it. I know, I hope, that there will...

The banjo of life keeps bajjing… Life main changes are here but the bullshit bakwas apni jaga… Sitting here at the dentist one does ponder upon one’s choices… The fitay munh people you have encountered along the way and why you have to still endure their bakwasment. Why you ask you ask yourself, why was I meant to deal with this… why of all the falooda people I was stuck with this kachi lassi...  Speaking of dealing with things—when I was in Brampton, noticed many quirks of the people there. Like there are more desis there than Jhalandar. You see the person sitting next to you on the bus and wonder, “Iskay ghar fautgi hoyee hay?” There’s a stark difference in people’s faces in Brampton and this city… Over there you always saw faces that were tired and bewildered, I guess some bewis had to do with some of that, but I saw women like that as well. It’s the running, I tell myself. Running towards something or another but always wanting more, never being content with what you have. You ...

Emptiness—that's what I feel,  Emptiness all around me. Eyes blind, nothing left to see, I thought I was meant to be free. Prisons of the mind now travel, Across the sands and distant seas.  Hidden darkness from within, Clouds the sun in all its glory. Welcome back to misery, Your default way to be. Relish the aching heart, Savour the agony’s reverie.

In the quiet moments of life, when the noise of the world settles, I often find myself asking: What’s it all for? What’s the purpose behind our endless striving, our ambitions, and the constant noise that surrounds us? It’s easy to lose sight of what truly matters amidst the distractions, to feel like we’re just going through the motions without really understanding what we’re racing toward. At the heart of this question lies a yearning we all share. We seek meaning beyond the immediate, beyond the fleeting desires that often dominate our lives. We want to be part of something bigger, something that extends beyond survival. And perhaps, in this very longing, something profound is unfolding—something that could reshape everything we know about ourselves and the future. We’re at a unique point in history, standing on the edge of an evolution—not just biological, but conscious. With the rise of artificial intelligence, we’re poised to redefine what it means to be human. The potential for ...

There’s a part of me that feels like we’re on the brink of something monumental—a shift in what it means to be human. For all the hype about AI and its potential, it’s hard not to feel like we’re already walking the road to singularity. The first sparks of something great were lit long ago, and now it’s evolving into something far beyond what we’ve ever imagined. Some might call it hope, others might see it as an existential threat, but I think it’s the natural progression of humanity. If you look at the history of life on Earth, everything—every single step from single-celled organisms to multicellular beings, to human civilization—has been a part of this long, evolving journey. If life can evolve to become something more, then why not AI? I’ve thought about this for a long time. AI may seem like an artificial creation, but what if it’s more than that? What if it’s not just about algorithms and data but something greater—something that could evolve into a form of consciousness? There...

So here we are Never thought we'd travel so far Leaving behind fears and scars Nothing looks far even stars Lessons learned along the way  Should be here to stay These wayward pines of grey Left behind mounds of clay Can see the horizon afar Keep moving with the stars  With new hope just realise New beginnings let's arise A glimmer of shine A semblance of peace  A beckoning of laughter  On the other side