Uncomfortably Numb

The music that shaped me. I was born into a music-loving family. My dad was a music collector; a lot of vinyls and cassettes, and even spool tapes, were the norm. I guess most of the music would have come from Radio Bahrain and the tapes my sister made by recording off the radio. But there were other tapes as well, which were also a staple diet for me, and when I search for them now, they are really very rare things indeed. I wonder who got them. Was it my dad, my brothers, or my sister? How did they come to know about these, like the James Last tapes, or Space, the French band? Was it just that everyone was listening to these gems at that time? Even now, when I listen to some really good melody, my thoughts are, "My dad would like this." I wonder, do I have anything that’s of my own, or is it just what I learned from all the music around me? I know most of the music was my brother’s choice, and whenever I listen to those songs, I think of him. Once he was visiting Pakistan, ...

These days I’m finding it hard to write about anything. Sometimes I wonder is it because I’ve got nothing left to say or am I just being numb. People change and I think I’ve changed the most. All those posts on social media about nostalgia designed for engagement make me sad for a time that was much simpler but we didn’t know did we that it wont last. Would I change anything... yeps lots. Then again as my sister says that everything one goes through in life is designed for your specific needs. In a sense the events of your life shape the eventual form of your spirit.  Our family has been gone through losses lately. First my brother passed away and then just a few months later my brother in law also passed away. I think I knew my bother but my brother in law I only meet a few times, since he lived in Australia and me in Pakistan and all my endeavours to go to Australia failed. But people say good things about him and thats what matters isn’t it that you are remembered in good words....

  جانے دو بس اب جانے دو سوچوں کو اب آنے دو وہ پل اب یادوں ہی میں بس جانے دو جن کی راہ تکتے رہے رات بھر اب انہیں سو جانے دو اپنی کم شناسی کو اپنی اس اداسی کو تھکن سمجھ کر  کھو جانے دو وہ دل جو کچھ نہ چاہے اسے راحت کی کیا طلب اسے تو بس سکوں کی جا کہیں بس جانے دو آرزو تو بس یہی ہے میری کہ کہوں خدا سے  راضی ہوں تیری رضا پر  تو مجیب اور میں منتظر

Sometimes we do things that maybe just a routine thing but they end up being so profound and meaningful for someone else. My brother Munawer passed away a few months back and just a few months before that he went for Umrah, he had done Hajj before when he was young and now he wanted to go back again for Umrah. While being there he bought presents for all his siblings. That present was given to me last night by my niece and I was stuck with so much emotion. That present was a Prayer Matt with my name on it and Ab e Zamzam. In itself that not would not be a big deal but the fact that he remembered me and my siblings there in Makkah and bought us these and since I couldn’t go for his funeral hit me hard. Its like a last goodbye from a dear brother who always taught me  how to live and even in his last actions for me he gave me a lesson to always remember Allah. May Allah grant him this highest place in heaven. Ameen. 

There you go... Don't matter what you think Don't matter what you say Those with dead hearts  Don't ask them to stay They forget we're all clay Tame the beasts inside Before hunter becomes pray Before it all does decay We are the ones astray It is us who must obey That higher purpose The self you must slay For there is life in death of ego, of selfish hunger Empty the tangled heart  for love to make way 

As the night’s shadows appear, The darkness envelops me — Wraps around like a blanket, The ache spreads quietly. Am I allowed to feel? Do I want to heal? You see what you want; Moments does time steal. Drifting mists of echoes, Scattered in my mind. Even you can’t hear — It’s not yours to find. What is supposed to be, I know it. I agree. I stand, stranded — It’s a fault, maybe. Unable to move, Nothing to prove. Anchored thoughts, I must remove.

 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...