Past...

Like the stack of old letters;

The books you stored with care;

Past years grow old too.

The dust of memories gets thicker

Just like that layer of yellowness,

Touch of old times

Velvety and soft…..




*Wishing you all a very happy new year*

Of a season...

The heartless summer is long gone

Soon the clouds will sail away

Rain will no more dance at my window

Where the dew drops will rest themselves

Waiting for the winter to come.

Nothing remains forever

But for the songs

Of a season lost

Nothing will remain

But for the memories

Of a season gone…

Growing Up With James Bond

Blogging has never been more enjoyable if it weren't for the likes of him.

Sib had this intriguing display name that attracted me every time I went to comment on one of Agnes's posts. 'Talk to my Soul'; that was something I wanted to do myself. A couple of visits on his page and I was still unsure whether I should introduce myself and make an entry to his page. His tag line seemed to speak to me: 'When you have nowhere to go, go back to yourself'. Yes, I had nowhere to go back then.

Thus started my friendship with this guy whose comments never failed to bring a smile to me. His display picture, I must say, was rather handsome. In the long list of comments that I used to get, I would search for his name and read his comment first.

Do I need to tell you what amazing friend he is? I don't think so. But yes there are some I would want to share. Through all these months, through the countless times I was up all night and couldn't sleep, Sib was right there with me. When I seemed to be battling my demons, he was right there, may be not beside me, but always behind me to keep me from falling. I don't have those sleepless nights anymore, but I know that anytime I do, I just have to look for him and he'd be right there.

I've laughed with him on his silly jokes, I've cried while he held on to me. My silly childish problems, my immature reasons, my weak logic, and he always seemed to bring out the best in them. I've grown up with him in the last one year with him changing me into someone who's think logically than from the heart; I am so grateful for that.

Sib, it's your birthday and I wish I could have had a bite of your birthday cake or played a nasty prank on you on your day! May be I won't be around much longer, I don't know how life unravels. So I just wanted to write here, the place that's home to you, to tell you and the world how very special a person you are. You're a fierce friend, you're kind at heart, you're someone I can always and always depend on; and yes, you're Bond, James Bond.

*wipes tears from her eyes*
(Sorry guys I got a little emotional writing this post.)

Hope you remember your promise to meet me some day in Pakistan in a park under the sun and see me all grown up. I'd recognize you from anywhere, dear friend.

Happy birthday :)
Many many happy returns of the day, with joys of every thing you'll ever ask for!



Much love,
Mehreen.

The Storm Outside

I stood there just outside the gate and watched the storm beginning to rage. There was a strange sense of anticipation in the air which made me anxious; almost unmindful of the strong wind and the rain to follow.

I looked at the house for a moment and then searched for my cell phone in my jeans pocket.

“Would you open the doors?” I said when she picked up the phone.

“Oh! You are already here?” She asked, a tinge of surprise laced in her voice. She probably was not expecting me so soon.

I reached early, I told myself. All my life, I have been late though. I always had a strong feeling that I should have been born in the ‘50s but it too was delayed. By two decades, I think. Terrible.

“If it’s begun to rain, it must be me at your doors. I am the Rain Man, remember.” My reply smacked of my self-obsession.

I pushed open the gate and reached the porch. She was not there yet. I stood there in front of the main door. The creepers and climbers had grown longer on the wall, almost covering an entire side of the entrance gate. Soon I could feel little drops of rain on my body. Oh! It’s raining, finally. This has been such a long dry spell.

There was no sign of her yet. I stood there, looked up at the evening sky fast turning dark with clouds getting low. The wind was getting stronger, the rain drops bigger. I stood there waiting for her. Several minutes passed by. Several memories came rushing back.

“How long have you been here?” she suddenly appeared from inside the house.


I looked at her for a few moments. I looked at those deep dark eyes. “A little while ago,” I replied.

“Come on in,” she said.

For a second, I wished she had not showed up. It has been an age since I met her last. My yearning to see her, for a moment, appeared more powerful an emotion than that of the joy of meeting her.

I stepped forward leaving the storm raging outside.




I will meet you yet again


I will meet you yet again
How and where? I know not.
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
I will keep gazing at you.
Perhaps I will become a ray
of sunshine, to be
embraced by your colours.
I will paint myself on your canvas
I know not how and where –
but I will meet you for sure.
Maybe I will turn into a spring,
and rub the foaming
drops of water on your body,
and rest my coolness on
your burning skin.
I know nothing else
but that this life
will walk along with me.
When the body perishes,
all perishes;
but the threads of memory
are woven with enduring specks.
I will pick these particles,
weave the threads,
and I will meet you yet again…. Main Tenu Phir Milangi by Amrita Pritam

(Image: www.deviantart.com)

Soul's New Song

Don't look back

It will tug at your heart

Let the past go

Let go of the memories

And the clutching pain.

Soon the stars will fade

The blackness of the night will melt

In the soothing lights of a new dawn

Tomorrow will be another day

Tomorrow will have a new sun.....

*Wishing you all a soulful New Year*

(Image: Shamim Qureshy)