in love...

She wore red that day…

… and she waved, from a hundred yards away, the hundred yards that I yearned to be none. We took those destined steps towards each other and slowly but surely the distance receded. Even from such a distance I dared not give her anything but a glimpse; yet my shuffling eyes had no image but hers. The radiance of her presence hit me with every step I took; it struck me with every gust of wind that had caressed her skin and now mine. The world was grinding to a halt, every other person had become immaterial; every evidence of environment irrelevant. My world was the path that separated me from her and nothing else. And I trod that path; she had me overawed, beaten.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. The crimson of her dress, set on the fairest of skins contested with everything my eyes had ever gazed upon and outshone it. My eyes had seen that person before, a multitude of times, but today they saw her differently. They saw her with the reverence that comes with divinity, that precedes royalty. Like a disciple I stood in veneration; my eyes wishing to take in as much as they could yet afraid of blasphemy. I longed to feel those tresses that glided in the early morning breeze to know if it all was real, or just a dream.

I felt my lips moving, some incomprehensible words being uttered. I saw her cheeks flush red, her eyes fixing on mine and her lips starting to part and curve. And within that instant, within the time it took for those three actions to take place, I had been taken over by the most sweeping of feelings. It was unknown before, yet all encompassing now. I had just seen her smile. I had seen beauty epitomized; in the camber of her eyelids, in the redness of her cheeks, in the daintiness of her lips, in the sparkle of her eyes. It was as if my life had been split into two; the one that knew and the one that did not. There was a new connotation to my existence, a new meaning to my perception. My existence was in her happiness; her continuous, unimpeded, absolute happiness.

Every word she uttered sounded fresh; it spoke of hope and expectation. Every syllable was distinct; stabbing through my walls of narcissism and making me hers. Her every glimpse made me weak; I was at her mercy. Every gesture peeled off layers of conceit from my soul, revealing a man in love; in an undeniable state of adulation. It was akin to being born again, under a new name and a new obligation.

I stood there for a long time, even when my lady had gone; to gather even the faintest traces of her scent from the air. When I finally did move, I moved in love.

There's a good time coming boys...

There’s a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming,
War in all men’s eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity.
In the good time coming.
Nations shall not quarrel then,
To prove which is the stronger;
Nor slaughter men for glory’s sake;
Wait a little longer.

Charles Mackay, 1846

I have been in love with this poem since I first read it; the above mentioned excerpt being my favourite. Hope oozes from every word; the sheer brilliance, simplicity and harmony of each stanza with the one above it; it is a fantastic read.
And how poignant it is… More than a hundred and fifty years on and we can yet relate to it, we are still waiting for that ‘good time’ that Mackay so confidently believed lay so near. Yet in the solemnity of the world today, it feels wonderful to remember through this poem how the spirit of a human cannot be trodden upon. How the innate emotion of a pure and innocent hope can transcend all physical and emotional pain. It is a beautiful feeling that through the words of this poem you can correlate to the billions that inhabit this planet; anyone and everyone dreams this dream, prays this prayer.

There’s a good time coming boys,
A good time coming,
We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray.
Of the good time coming
Cannon balls may aid the truth,
But thought’s a weapon stronger;
We’ll win our battle by its aid;
Wait a little longer.

Hamd out!

Independence

Independence is the fact or state of being independent, that is the way Oxford Dictionary defines it and which evidently is hardly helpful. It is a curious choice for a topic to write about at 5 am in a rather chilly October morning but this is where my head has stuck at the moment and independence it will be (ironically it is independence that lets me stay awake all night and write about it at whatever time i intend to).
Independence is subjective to a person's opinion and circumstances that he finds himself in. In our rather conservative society (I live in Pakistan), independence is achieved even by small acts of rebellion or non conformity. Or to put it more aptly, even small acts of rebellion or non conformity are seen by the society as independence. And the society works tooth and nail to take it back from you I assure you. Independence from a consigned and accepted terms of living is deemed inappropriate, even if you are 40 years of age, completely settled in your life and with every practical and academic qualification to do so. But your attempts to free yourself from the norms and traditions are met with scepticism, godlessness and often ridicule. You are told of the risks involved, the peril you might find yourself in, the neighbours and what they will think, the friends and how they will abandon you, the relatives and how they will look at the family with disdain and so on. And that my friends is why it is so difficult in our world to gain independence, except if you have nothing to lose and I for one do not want to be in that predicament.
Ofcourse no one can ever be truly independent and therefore what is the harm in allowing someone a few laughs or adrenalin rushes once in a while, even if the methods involved are unorthodox. Well to be perfectly honest, it is all easy for me to write at this ungodly hour. 20,25 years from now and when my adolescent son will be typing stuff like this, I guess I will be there as part of this society to prune his thoughts according to my wishes, like it has happened all along history.
Hamd out!