a letter…

To,
Place where Papaji,
can look us from,
Not Earth.

Dear Papaji of the nation,
Happy birthday. Hope you are being treated well by the Creator. Thankyou for changing the world’s map and lining out this land of millions for which a handful of people fought lead by you.
The land today is not exactly the way u wanted. People have forgot to follow your footsteps, may be they are to0 busy printing their own. But yours were for nation, theirs, for themselves.I know you had put your life at stake for this land and wanted to nourish your newborn kid but Creator loved you more than yourself so called you to give a big huggie for your efforts.
The land you left behind is now not what you would had dreamed of. Terrorists wrecking our land,inflation to max, NGO, Kerry stupid Lugger Bill, bombs and gunshots you would never have wanted. But among this, what brings smile is that today christmas is being celebrated, the way you respected minorities.
We are trying our best to survive in this crushing world. Papaji, i cannot write more because i know you are aware of what exactly the situation is, so please butter and ask Him to favour us a little bit.
Take care,
Don’t fell ill. There no meds available.
Regards to your sister aswell.

Yours,
8-year old,
Pakistan,
Earth.

extremes…

Have you ever imagined the extremes,
The feeling of being ceased?
Free by nature but caged?
Felt been used as some darts?
Or a beautiful stack of cards?
Which once played,
Kept aside….waiting,
To be touched again,
Being played again,
Able to hurt,
Able to be the reason,
Of one’s defeat,
Or victory,
Being able to cut through flesh,
But still are forced,
Where not felt.
They can make or ruin one’s life.
The two extremes,
Ever imagined?

journey-to-own-self…

Artist, a word that takes in every existing person within its domain if we believe everyone has something special in own self.
But now, another meaning to the same word might prove that there are only selected people with the gift of being an artist.
He was a kind that was not known on the front pages because he didn’t want to. He was young, packed with gushing ideas which he kept neglecting all those years of grounding but it was a scrap of him so couldn’t help but considering it! He verbalized his outlook ahead people who he thought will understand. And yes, they did. They understood that he needs to be brain washed, he needs to be taught diverse ways of printing money for a sound living, but to him that was not being happy because after many years he had realized about the spell he had in his hands and mind….not brain and so wanted to brighten it.
Decided to live alone but not lonely, he went away to gain knowledge of who he actually was. With mother’s tender hearteous but secretive support of finance he got himself enrolled in an art school and started his training from alteration of the basics.
He wished to have a mind wall; something that his mind designed; a set of lines which did not know where they will converge next. The essentials were everything but not colors! He was a son of vibrant nature, born of colors but they were a complication for his task. He turned the music on and began to blend his soul with the melody as it served a palate of colors. He let his soul absorb color from melody and create something that reflected a colorful soul
His devotion to colors made him choose the wall with a window…. All colors of universe, still bleached on wall. He started off on pages and drew some lines: straight and curved!
Since it was his imagination it had an intellectual boundary. Effaced lines he drew shouted that he was searching something in them; may be his identity beyond himself….those marks seem to depict his mind among intertwining lines. Bringing different strokes into existance and eradicating them seemed like he was putting the bubbling thoughts to trash. Apparently curves were his limits and overlapping them was what he was craving for!
He just kept the sheets apart and commenced chalking the wall. With every stroke, it was visible that he wanted to achieve perfection. Emergence and disappearance wer his adventure to realization that made him aware of ownself. Removal of pre-existing strokes was a ritual to return where he thought it was correct. This clearly portrayed his initial ignorance to his art! Finalizing the wall, he used black paint to which no other color would effect, it may symbolize sadism to some but it was a sign of glory to him. Charcoal was used for perfect shading at the apex, what according to him was his dark side or one’s doom! What he drew was, two hands in a praying stance around the window that showed that world was in those hands of one, inreach of own will! The light from the nature of God enter one’s life from devoting to Almighty. That sacred colourful light gave every color, the wall could ever get. It didn’t need any more colors….
He then, content of what he had done, moved back several steps and sat beside a wall smiling and smoking..