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Showing posts with the label Memories

Descent

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Stop now. don't go any further. you know what's behind the closed door. don't open it. the door you shut your self. aching and longing on this side. what's lost, what you never had on the other. I cant drown the voices in my head while drowning in the memories. Memories of a face never seen for real, memories of laughter, memories of embraces never actually had. Memories of crying on a shoulder that was there but not. years have gone but ache remains. longing remains...  here I stand cut off. Even if it was an invisible thread it was a life line... a semblance of some unknown connection..  I descend into despair all too familiar, its the darkness I hold at bay within and every so often it comes to the surface and I cant breath. I cant call out... I cant see... I cant say...  Oh Lord hear me... ease this suffering... 

Memories of Pindi/Islamabad

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There was a workshop near Faizabad Pindi it was my uncle's I would just hang around watching mechanics working on the cars and me working on that 386 computer, I used to love the place where they would do the wheel balancing cause it had stairs going underground... It felt mysterious.  Now that I think of it, this wasn't probably a good place for a child with all the machines and stuff... But I loved it... Specially the really really old cars that were there for ages and the smell of petrol mixed with different oils. My cousin used to throw bricks on one of them to show how strong the metal was... He would say ajkal to ghee ke dabay ke teen se bodies banatay hain, saath taik laga lo to chib par jata hay  They had a few foxys but the yellow one was my fav, it had that modified race car steering wheel... And man that sound system with the graphic eq uff... The sound in a foxy surrounds you due to the round shape of the roof... and since the engine is at the back anyway no engine

Trapped

Wanting something That you can never have Why do we keep running In circles What is hiding inside Can never come out What is outside Fake Emptyness Despair Feeling worthless Ache These are the Impossible ways That have no meaning One's self deceiving There are no doors No paths to flee trapped inside Memories 

Nine Years

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A lot can happen in nine years sometimes shed less tears for its no use living in memories things now happen with ease Things that I wished I would see For you to grow up a tall tree I don't know what I have missed you never went away from my heart A lot can happen in nine years could have beens walk around me In your peers Sometimes I fear the memory is fading Becoming distant so I can't grasp it But then I realize you live within me A part of me how much I mask it You were my first one my bundle of joy The moment I looked at you so little like a toy Eyes so bright full of love my sweet little boy A lot could happen in nine years But the one thing that cannot happen Is that I will never stop missing you

Once upon a sad night

What hides in plain sight riddles lie behind the eyes What you never saw above Underneath the shared skies What sorrows erupt as tears Some stay dormant as time flies words said become gashes Deeper sharper than knives Once upon a sad night No one heard my sighs You had left much earlier than the world choose to surmise The world makes some saints Bearing all quietly some reside That lost secret crafted so well As if there was nothing to hide what of my heart splintered words said with deluded pride Burning this way forever With no way to equalize

Daddy ji - #memories of a daughter

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Sometime ago I asked my brothers and sister to share their memories of our father, so my sister sent me this. I don't think I can add anything more to it, its wonderful as it is...  I am so happy to be writing about daddy jan. I just used to call him daddy. I don't think he liked being called anything else. When l think of daddy jan it brings a smile to my face. I remember him as a very fun loving easy-going person. He genuinely liked people and respected them. I remember he loved fishing. When in Rabwah he would go  with his friends . He would disappear for a few days then on his return he would hand me the sac  of fish. It would be my responsibility to clean them and then fry them under mum's supervision. He had made a special de-scaler with some nails on a piece of wood.  I still remember the crunchy fried fish. Better than KFC. He loved  kids and loved playing cards. My earliest memories of him Playing card are from Saudi  Arabia where he combined the two loves. When I

My Burden

You don't have to look twice To see that I am undone But for that to happen There must be a reason For you have forsaken All the reasons to remember The one you abandon That is my burden I found out from strangers What you forgot to mention That love, is surely lost When you beseech affection That is my burden I stand at the precipice of memories long lost Slowly in the mist of time to you, I become no one That is my burden But I cannot let go Like you have done For I am made of love Not easy to fathom That is my burden

Let the Imagination Begin...

I really need to write down all the wacky stories I tell my children before sleep time, for example one is a series of episodic stories called the A-team in which the characters are a Mano, a Doggie, a Genie, a Space warrior/alien, the Monkey and the Owl who is the smartest living thing in the universe and Ali baba... All of them have powers or abilities ... The Mano can't be mind controlled, a telepath. The Doggie is the scientist... Genie is actually the last of his kind of an extremely advanced race that actually not got extinct but ascended to a higher plane of existence. Space worrier is an exiled prince who eventually got his kingdom back on his planet with the help of his friends and so on... In a recent story the plot was that the all of the world's s chocolate cakes started to mysteriously vanish and the culprit was the monster created by jealous fruits and Vegetables who were discarded... Their anger created this monster... After a long battle the solution... the

Untouchable

I know what this pain is  why it hurts when I close my eyes I know why the heart aches  I know why it burns when I try to remember  For these are the tears that never came out  For I kept waiting for someone to cry with Searching for a shoulder to cry on For I loved her like a mother  didn't even let me see her face How loathsome you are  For humanity a disgrace  Pity thy soul for it knows love not  Pity thy life for it is all a loss May she rest in peace  For she sacrificed everything for you May she be with loved ones Far better than all of you A few days ago one of my very close non Ahmadi relatives passed away when we went there we were treated like untouchables, It's surreal to be treated as outcasts or achoot in a house u grew up in, by those who don't even belong there... What's more hurtful is the silence and subtle distancing of those very close to you to appease others ...  I have never felt hatred from others like that but only from these people before as wel

My Mother - Amtul Hafeez Begum

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September 11 2000 is the day my mother passed away after fighting cancer for 4 years. I have never known anyone more gentle & kind than her.  I have seen her in pain, but never once did I see her complain. Her patience was remarkable.  Now that I'm older and understand certain things, I see that there aren’t many people like her in this world. My brother Tanweer Sabir from UK recalls his memories, Ami, as he used to call her with effection, writes, "I have known her for her gentleness and kindness for her family and also for others. A very very brave women she was indeed. The way she fought cancer till the depart, with strong will and faith in Alllah. She knew all along what was going to happen, always encouraged her children to pray for her. I remember her, always smiling and prayers on her lips for us. I deeply miss those prayers, kindness and affection."  She helped so many without hurting their dignity, would send them money via me or herself and alway

Rohan - Part 2

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29th May 2013 the last day I saw my son alive. We had traveled all night and my flight was at 9am. We stayed at a place for freshening up in the morning just outside of Islamabad, it was a cool breeze and Rohan & Rohail were running around, it was a hilly place all green, a mosque.  It was the last time I saw him smiling, that moment his innocence, the laughter with his brother, thats how things should be. A playstation thats all he wanted, and thats what I promised I would send him, he had started counting the months even before I left. A year later when Rohail got his console I kept thinking how happy Rohan would have been if he had gotten it. As we started again, he became sad, he did not want me to leave, he was on the back seat, how I wish I could have spent more time with him, when we reached the airport we were running a few mins late so I quickly hugged everyone Goodbye, how I wish I could have hugged him a little longer. That was the last time I touched him.

Rohan - Part 1

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Rohan would have turned 11 this September and when I posted his pic online someone who obviously didn't know about the events of last year asked me who was he and I kept asking myself the same question after that, who was he? Perhaps the more pertinent question is what was he to me? Rohan, was a culmination of prayers, for three years of trying, as all newly weds struggling with conception know how that feels. As if his arrival opened new doors for me, my job at MTA got permanent(after two years of volunteer work)a month after he was born. I remember vividly the moment he was handed over to me that small cuckoon wrapped in soft blue cloth and small baby clothes which his mother had spent weeks preparing. There is nothing like holding your child for the first time, everything about that moment gets etched in your memory forever, the tiny hands and feet, your afraid that you might drop the baby and then the fragrance of Johnson's baby powder. Those small movements the

Somber Eid

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A day before Eid Pakistan gave us a gift, the gift of burning our houses and killing 2 young children, an unborn child and an elderly lady. The gift of celebrating & dancing in the streets on the deaths of our loved ones, the gift of indifference of the Pakistani media & the people, the gift of going to our mosques to pray, under the shadows of guns. This Eid when I woke up to get ready I was in a somber mood, the news of the babies killed by Pakistan last night, the images fresh in my mind, I knew I wasn't going to the Aqsa mosque (the central mosque) where there would be thousands of people and the sweet smell of perfume would make the cool morning air even fresher, all that seems like a distant memory now and a younger generation is already here that hasn't seen an Eid like that ever. No Those days are gone now. When we used to go to our mosques (places of worship) without the shadows of guns. I was going to the mosque just a few houses away from my house due

Gratitude

Coming to terms with the new realities of life is never easy. For those who need closure and can't get it, this road becomes even more treacherous. For those looking for solace from words it becomes apparent that words can can only at best be a temporary respite. For true peace of mind can only come from within, from the realisation that this life is just a mere illusion of permanence and nothing lasts for ever. The only truth eternal is death. Those who seek meaning find it in the smallest details and those who love the ignorance cannot see even if the truth stands affront. Like most of us I was a believer but had no actual experience of the existence of the almighty and wanted something that would bring everything into focus, that realisation came last year. I have never felt despair like I felt When I was at Sharjah bus terminal where I got the news of the accident of my wife & children back home, for some time I was just numb, didn't know what to do, where

3 Days to Remember (The Last Jalsa Salana in Rabwah)

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Today as the Jalsa UK 2013 is about to start , the mind is full of memories of moments spent. This time the focus of these memories is the Jalsa Salana that was held in Rabwah. My memories are conflicted between two emotions, one is filled with the beautiful mements of Jalsa Rabwah and the second is the fire of longing that burns in my heart which is reignited when I start to remember, its like a thirst which cannot be replenished & the reason for that is, like so many others I am of that generation which has not witnessed the Jalsa Rabwah in its full glory. There are a few vague memories, which are blurred by the limitations of childhood. Going through the streets of Rabwah when one passes in front of the different Langar Khanas in every Mohallah of Rabwah one cannot help but wonder at the hustle and bustle these places would have seen and what our elders tell us about. 1983. The last ever Jalsa held in Rabwah, the last time a populous of more than 250,000 made Rabwah

Fun Times

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One day in the sixth or seventh grade I came back from school and got straight to bed. The fun began when I woke up. I totally forgot about my day and thought it was morning again and My dad had real fun with that he started saying you better get ready for school and have breakfast and I was like hey I went to bed in my uniform and I wont have to put it on again... ;) so about 1/2 an hour later I realized that I had been had... when Dad turned on the television. My dad was a fun loving man and most of the events I remember of my childhood when I went somewhere for a picnic or something were all arranged by him and mostly paid for by him as well. He loved to see his family having fun. One time we went to the river side. We had all kinds of Bar BQ stuff with us and we were 16-18 people all stuck in our volvo station wagon, we would just turn the seats down and all of us would go in... anyway when we started up our BarBQ there the aroma started to spread. There were a bunch of guyz pl

How I started writing

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For as long as I can remember I loved stories... the school library, the stories Daddy used to bring from Lahore or Karachi, Tarzan, Imran Rehan Series, Nonehal, Sherlock Holmes etc. etc. I even wrote one sci-fi story when I was in 4th or 5th class then there were the aural story sessions in the recess time in school, a bunch of my friends would gather around and listen to my stories... and these were spontaneous on the spot creations I would just ask them where did the story end and then start from there... In high school I was more into poetry than writing stories and stuff. I would never claim my self to be a poet or a writer though... its just release...  I really wish to write something profound but I dunno ... I started writing blog like notes in a Star Trek LCARS inspired program called Holonote in 2000 most of that stuff I used here and there in my blog when I started blogging... but much of it remains hidden cause well ... I just cant put that here... its too personal a

Faces I'll never see again

As I sit here alone in the dark. My thoughts scattered over the years gone by and I start to remember the faces I will never see again in this life. So many people so many memories. My dad who I never remember hurting anyone always doing good for others. My most cherished memory of him is when he used to take me to the small mountain or hilltop near our house I used to piggy back and he would climb and there on the top we would listen to the radio. My mother who used to help so many and never would mention it. I used to talk for hour with her about things that made no sense to her(technology). She would always listen and even participate with a question or two. I miss her warmth and the arm which was my pillow for so many years. There are other faces as well like nani aman mamoo younas mamoo yaqoob mamoo rashid mamoo ramzan uncle mazhar anti bedi even chacha masood chacha nasir and dadi aman. Badar choochoo and baji moona with whom I never meet.

Momories Part 1 - Buddz

My friends ... those were the days....

Friendship

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For the bestest friends one could ever have.   The things that binds strangers and bonds that are made maybe stronger then blood itself...   Old pics ... Aah the good old days... All day MTV + Channel V with Khalood in the Mix on LBC   those were the days ... endless night searches for new satellite chennels ... late night discovery channel documentry sessions.   and then Rabwi Hills 35460 .   AB & KB   Ahooga !!!   Horizon. X-Files. Startrek. Twin Peaks and Whigfiled.   The stardust tunnel sequence championship. The endless mac vs pc battle.   Enter the Shapungium ... !   and so much more...