hafeezhmha

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And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine..

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  • hafeezhmha 36w

    After all the persisting
    quietude, chaos emerges
    again from the shadows,
    holding shackles of misery
    and delusions of suffering.
    It is a genesis of prolonged
    hysteria. It sweeps in through
    the void spaces betwixt the
    doors and windows and holds
    your hands whilst you are
    in the bed awaiting for
    a receding dawn.

    "Would it end like it did for a man who was in despair?" You ask yourself.

    You are suffering again
    from insomnia and you are
    unable to sleep from the
    sheer horror that has probed in.
    What a pure display of
    devastation it is..
    Cats humming near the
    door and the sun turning
    all black. The air becoming
    thicker and the stardust
    turning into ashes yet
    somewhere in your heart
    you wish the bud would
    blossom into a flower.
    You wish if all this
    was a dream that you
    could easily wake up from.

    Finally, you muster the
    courage to sit down on
    your plain desk and write
    something for yourself.
    But could you? When the
    dusk arrives, You wait
    for the nightingale to
    sing its melodies but
    all you can hear is a
    howl of a lone wolf.

    Your life is probably
    a real nightmare now
    and you wonder, if you'll
    ever get out of this mess.
    Sigh!
    Perhaps you force yourself
    to sleep again.
    Yet again, you lay there
    listening to the ticking
    of your old chronometer
    and wish that your soul
    shatters and dissolves
    into the arms of death
    so that you may
    never wake up again.

    ©hafeezhmha


    ->An old writeup because i wanted
    to post something. Its been so long.

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  • hafeezhmha 43w

    Sawan ki barsi
    ko hatheli pey lekar
    Dhut nashili raat
    Kyun nahi aati?

    Dard ki sargam
    ko lafzon mey dubokar
    ek haseen kitaab
    kyun nahi aati?

    Bepanah baras
    ney aaye hai,
    Baras ney
    do hamein
    Na jane us jaisi
    barsat fir se
    kyun nahi aati?

    Tujh se naata
    jod diya toh khushi
    chord gayi hamein,
    Na jane khushi
    mohabbat ke saath
    kyun nahi aati?

    Musaafir hoon,
    Chord chala mai usko
    aur aagaya mai tujh par,
    Fir bhi na jaane
    tujh mey us jaisi baat
    kyun nahi aati?

    ©hafeezhmha

    #kabhiurdulikhakaro

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  • hafeezhmha 43w

    I wonder what words do...

    Do they sit beside me
    every night and sing
    lullabies of love?

    Or Do they sit beside
    me every night and
    weep at my sorrows?

    Words.
    Funerals for my thoughts.
    That's what they are.

    A farewell that sometimes makes me happy and sometimes burrows my happiness under the thick sheet of melancholia. Crestfallen braces call my name when i put the grey curtains down. Every night when I'm about to fall asleep, i hear the void coughing. I look for it beneath my bed, beside my orange lamp and even in my half wedged drawers. But the voice seems to move further, further beyond my reach.

    I hate that i no longer hanker for the mornings like i used to. Everyday i wake up more tired and more sick. My heart longs for drowsy summer evenings and rainy afternoons. It longs for peace that i once had when my mind ran filter-less on the clouds of a shimmering world. It longs for some fresh breath, out and away from the suffocating crowds. It longs more for something less.

    Once a day, nostalgia overtakes my vision and i fail again and again to see what is in front of me. The past seems like a sweet fruit grown on a plum tree near a grassy orchard, alluring and enticing. Hope becomes fragile and delicate, it soon dilutes into the void and renders me with a home devoid of anything except it.

    Sometimes it is a hassle to write. So i read. I end up reading writers that are well versed in narrating tales. But reading them doesn't fill my heart. Maybe it never will...I was on a train which was heading far away from my home. It took my heart some courage to sit down and pick up a book again, but i did. I started reading it. It was not a book of an adept writer, but of a writer with a shattered soul. Broken, like me. Her words screeched what my heart crumpled to convey. So I read it again and again until i could no longer hold my tears and i wept and then I left the train with a wet handkerchief and weepy hisses and ended up around a park. I sat on a bench which was beneath a pine tree. The weather was warm, it was as if winter had just departed and spring had just arrived. The trestle was slightly tepid too, as if someone was just sitting there and left it a few minutes ago. I glanced at the sky and wondered if the writer of the book felt the same way i did.

    "Maybe emotions cannot be read like words nor can they be disposed like books" I thought..

    That night, i could feel the void shrinking and collapsing like a balloon which was punctured with a tiny toothpick. Slow and steady it deflated. It felt more painful than ever but i knew that this pain didn't signify destruction. It signified healing. I just knew it.

    ©hafeezhmha

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  • hafeezhmha 44w

    Somewhere, somehow a concoction takes place, the sky sprays a rainbow, the colors are dispersed and the hues of beautiful sunshine finally fall on a face. A face of a stranger, they seem unknown yet somehow familiar. Isn't it a bliss to find someone who shares your madness in this distinct world? Someone with a spark like yours, a spark which exists nowhere else.

    You talk and gradually grow closer. Closer like two opulent stars that rearrange to form constellations. As closer as the moon and earth can be. As closer as god and his devotee. You listen to her symphonies even amidst all the havoc. For a few whimsical and lovely days, the entire universe perpetuates the notion of unity. Unity in taste, unity in thoughts, unity in soul. Perhaps, you feel a strange perplexing yet enticing emotion when you look in her eyes and wish that she feels the same when she looks into yours. It is a feeling of mutual ecstasy. Ecstasy of two hearts throbbing in unison for each other. But one day, that feeling of hiraeth, that feeling of finding home like comfort and assurance in a person is suddenly faded. The person with whom you desired to walk in this journey of life has forsaken you.

    'Didn't they abandon a part of themselves?' you wonder.

    The curtains of destiny have fallen over the theater of your residence. You wish again, for all this to be just a bad dream so that you can wake up from it. You wish it to be an abstraction, a figment of your own imagination so that the hurt may be minimized and this seemingly permanent suffering may come to an halt. You are hurt. So you collect the remnants of your broken heart and go on a journey yearning to find an emollient that could mend your punctured heart and cure your intrinsic misery.

    People, when they leave they take a part of your self with them. At the end of the day what matters is not the choice to give them that part, but to muster the courage to let them go. It took you a while to understand that people are not objects that can be kept forever nor are they an entity that can be sold. So now you never hold on to them. You know that they'll leave and when they do, they'll take a piece of you with them and you'll have a part of them in your heart.

    So, do you still have the courage to let someone in? To let them close to your heart? So close that they can borrow a piece of it. Do you still have the courage to love? Or are you afraid? Afraid to let it blossom again. After all that you've been through. It takes courage to love when your sky was enshrouded with betrayal. It takes courage to trust just as It takes courage to appreciate the garden of life when you have already been through the dark valleys of death.

    ©hafeezhmha



    Conclusion. This was the last part of the to be continued trilogy on love. Representing both sides of the same coin.
    Catch the trilogy at #fragmentsinlove
    Arigato!

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  • hafeezhmha 45w

    Beneath the fretful-clunky burden of imposed duties, i sought freedom. I desired to be free until the sun sets and darkness obscures the sky. To be free until the raven cackles on the roof top of an abandoned building. Life gets us, It sweeps us just like how the breeze hauls those dandelion seeds and then it escorts us to mysterious yards. Except for me it was not a yard but a dark forest. In that forest, i found uncertainty. My modest companion that follows me religiously. Every night it whispers to me how it can see me through all my fears and even my agonizing pain that i conceal behind a smiling face, A facade.

    It insinuates how it is my fault for carrying all those burdens alone. It consoles my soul and i avoid looking in her eyes. I evade her just like how i evade my self. If i would ever talk to fate, i would ask why my life struggles to find a direction, an answer, a truth. My truth.

    A truth that would lend me sorrows wrapped in glossy fardels of chocolates and i would gobble them until they start devouring the broken inner fragments of my soul. I have no aptitude for solving the problems that life serves me in a bleak platter and i am not a painter working a brush and leaving the empty canvas with my imprint. I don't. I can't. I am a flawed escapist who cannot look past behind his own scorn and ridiculousness. I am a spectator, i watch my life bolting past my windows coated with delusions and fantasies and every time it returns to me, i run and bury myself under a wide blanket.

    Everyday i sit next to the window on an old brown chair looking at the sky. The sunrise always approaches but sometimes i wonder what if it didn't? What if one day i wake up and i don't find myself here? Am i free to die as much as i am free to live?

    ©hafeezhmha

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  • hafeezhmha 45w

    If consciousness is something that was developed through billions of iterations of evolution then maybe it also implies that consciousness is directly related to complexity.

    With more and more iterations, a uni cellular organism transitions into a multi cellular organism. An example is, from an amoeba to a human being, here the amoeba would be less conscious compared to a human being, simply because of differences in complexity levels. So in a way, Consciousness is directly proportional to the level of complexity.More complexity would lead to more consciousness. It would be an emergent property which is based on the interaction of complexity.

    We humans are the most conscious creatures walking on this planet. We have the ability to create proper structural and social hierarchies and dominate our primitive urges. We are also self aware, possess hyper intelligence and even meta cognition. Try to visualize how beautiful the concept of consciousness is. If there's a bacteria flowing in your blood then it is conscious, maybe less conscious, and it might think of you as a giant multi cellular organism and it may consider your blood stream as a red river. Similarly your cells are conscious in a way. You are being made of conscious matter. Also earth is so huge and complex. Imagine if it is conscious and we are the bacteria living inside this spheroid.

    Talking about death,
    The moment of Death is the moment finality. It is last commemoration of all your tragedies. But will you ever die? Would the 'you' who dies at the age of 65 still be 'you'? If i ought to die in the next 5 years, would it still be me, the present exact me? Or would it be as if someone else died? So what would that make the present me? Immortal?

    In Quantum mechanics, every quantum event manifests a separate universe. This leads to the concept of multiverses. The main notion here is to think about consciousness in terms of spectrums. In terms of states that subsist at different levels and this is where everything gets interesting. Lets imagine a hypothetical experiment like the shrodinger's cat. In the Quantum world, Imagine there's a gun pointed to your head and if the cesium atom decays, the gun clicks and you die. But if the cesium atom doesn't decay, the gun still clicks but you don't die. What would you hear or see as an observer?

    Scientists say that, you would hear infinite clicking noises.

    The simple explanation for that is, if the clicks go off and you die, then you'd have zero awareness of death. So your consciousness would always transport to the universe where you are not dead. So you'll just hear clicks. Even if the bullet hits you won't die because you haven't perceived death because your consciousness has jumped into another universe. The point is, In quantum world everything is observer dependent.

    The tragic part is, if this actually works then we will never die. Consider this the second door to immortality. Our consciousness will always continue to branch towards infinity as there are infinite universes, and you will continue to suffer for eternity.

    So you will never die then? Maybe or maybe not. Who knows.

    Maybe, your consciousness will not abruptly end but it will slowly fade as we know that consciousness is a spectrum that slowly fades and perishes into oblivion.

    #cosmictales_h

    (yes the series ended but I'd like to make this coarse and protracted writeup a part of it)

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  • hafeezhmha 46w

    Tanha
    raston mey
    main
    manzilen kyun
    talash karta hoon?

    Sitaron mey,
    In siyahi raton mey,
    Kyun teri aankhon mein
    unkahe Lamhaat talash
    karta hoon?

    Ye dil
    toh ghaflat ke
    raaston ko dhundta
    reh gaya...

    Unhi raaston mey
    kyun tujhe sau baar
    talash karta hoon?

    Sazishein
    toh apnon ney
    bhi ki thi,
    kashti ko dubone ki

    Usi kashti se
    kyun kinara talash
    karta hoon?

    Jis gulshan ko tune
    sehra bana diya

    Usi sehra mein
    phir kyun
    Jaam e Mohabbat
    talash karta hoon?

    Jashn bhi tha,
    suroor bhi tha,
    khud pey mera
    guroor bhi tha,

    Khaak ke
    saath ek purana sa rishta
    jaise tha apna.

    Usi khaak me
    dafn unsuni kahaniyon ko
    talash karta hoon..

    Akela Chord gaye mere yaar
    mujhe zamane ke darmiyaan,

    Kyun aaj bhi is beymaan
    zamane mey insaaf
    talash karta hoon?

    ©hafeezhmha

  • hafeezhmha 47w

    I was Overthinking. Just a bit.

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    Night

    10:30 pm

    No matter how many songs my friends send me, i still continue to listen to the same old playlist that i created few months ago. A taste in Music is subjective, I think one should never force someone else to enjoy the music that they do. There are some songs you'll never like and there are others you'll be consuming like a drug addict. Some songs are etched deep on the walls of your ephemeral and subliminal memories and no matter how much you listen to them, they will always continue to stimulate your senses with their magic and they'll never get too old for you. Hold on to those songs, to those beats that made your heart pulsate a little bit faster. Hold on to them.

    Sky. The best part about the night is the Starry sky. When would you find a sky ornamented with some strange sparkling, twinkling pearls?
    Perhaps, they are more than just balls of gases decorating the azure. I, personally, romanticize stars a lot and i believe we should also romanticize our lives. Romanticize every little action, whether its sitting in an empty bus and observing the sky or just going for a walk deep into the uncharted woods. Romanticize what you explore.

    12:45 am

    Ah! My phone battery was already low. Maybe I'll just put it away now, it's time for some insomniac introspection. With the hymns of solitude playing in my room, I now cherish my semi-nihilistic thoughts that transcend the barrier of twilight. Existential crisis for having existential crisis. What is existence anyway? How do you know i even exist? Maybe this is just an AI trying to be human? Would i exist if you hadn't perceived me?

    2:32 am

    Thoughts are akin to fickle branches that continue to grow and dwell into nothingness. Just like how life sequels into infinite uncertainties and possibilities.

    I'm just a weak human, waiting for all this fog to sway into oblivion, so that i can preserve my denuded sanity. I am caged inside myself. Inside my own body. What a tragedy it is that i can no longer relive certain experiences. What a tragedy it is that i cannot merge myself with someone else or with the universe. Inevitably, my transient existence will come to a perennial conclusion and maybe that will be the end of the beginning?

    5:05 am

    Would i be sad if i was immortal? Tragedy is construed as a consequence of time and Death is construed as the edifice of life. I just let my biology determine my life and all it whispered to me was : Life is Infinite.
    Homosapiens are pretty adaptive creatures and other animals are just biologically hardwired. Do you still believe you have free will? Do you?

    Also Isn't it strange how only people who die receive beautiful bouquets of flowers and those who are alive usually don't?

    If i die, where will you find me? I wouldn't have carried anything with me. So my belongings shall remain here along with my name. You will remember the memories we made and the interactions we had. They say: Souls don't die. So even if my body perishes, a part of my consciousness will continue to reside here, betwixt these words. A writer doesn't die. His consciousness lives and breathes through his words and that's how he will be remembered. So all you have to do is visit the words in order to find me and the last embers of my consciousness. That's one door towards immortality.

    And where shall my other part of departed consciousness go? Well, it's all about faith. Maybe, it goes to another different dimension? Why can't we perceive it?
    Maybe, unless it affects our dimension, we won't be able to see it, At the end of the day, Dimensions are just human spatial perceptions.

    7:18 am

    Its a long way towards the end. So for now, I will slide the curtains and let the gentle sunlight breeze in to my room. It's finally morning, the birds are serenading their warbles, its just another normal day on earth. What a time to be alive!

    ©hafeezhmha

  • hafeezhmha 47w

    ��
    Writing has left me..

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    Letters

    Twenty Letters scattered and wrapped with lovely blues, lie outside my door. I've been trying to read them as i try to read the stars that erect to form constellations in the night sky.

    But they are mysterious. Mysterious and abstruse like those exquisite dreams that are found deep within the ocean of slumber.

    No matter how much i try, The door to those exotic letters seem to be closed for eternity.

    And I know myself, My soul will always seek those hidden words but I'll hold my scrutiny when I'm around you but abandon it in solace.

    So for now, I'll plait my thoughts in my tainted wooden closet so that when i wake up again, I may forget that those letters even exist.

    ©hafeezhmha

  • hafeezhmha 48w

    Tanhaai'

    Gaur kar unhi thandi hawaaon par,
    Aasmaan ke tale' jo tujhe pukaar rahi hai,
    Gaur kar unhi bechain sukhi shakhon par
    Fiza ke shehar mey jo tujhe hasa rahi hai..

    Kyun
    Tu is seher ke aaghosh mey tadap raha hai?
    Riha kar khudko un unkahe bandhano sey..

    Kyun
    Tu apne man ko chup Kara raha hai?
    Sang usi ke, ga geet zindagi key..

    Nazar se bach
    Us raaahi ki jo door khada awaz deta hai..

    Mila khud ko
    Aaj khudi se jiski awaz ko tu dabaye rakhta hai..

    Fir kho ja
    mohabbat ki un mast galiyon mey,
    Dhoondh koi jo teri dastaan ka saathi ban sakey,

    Fir bas tu aur wo!

    Wo, Jo thaame tera haath un raahon mey,
    jin rahon mey khwaab bhi khatm hojate hain.

    Wo, Jo is tanhai ke safar mein dikhaye tujhe ek khushnumah zindagi ka raasta,
    Jin raaston mey phool bhi zakhm de jaate hain.

    Jo tut te sitaron se tujhko maangey,
    Jo teri liye, doobti kashti bhi sawarey,
    Jo bus jaye teri sanson mey
    aur khil jaye tere baghon ki kaliyon mey..

    Aaghosh mey le use apni
    Aur us hoor e ai'n ko apni safar e zindagi mey apna humdard bana le!

    ©hafeezhmha