Paper Boats


One day I saw,
a person from my window.
A man double my age,
walking down an opposite lane,
wearing a black rain coat,
amidst the hot day’s temp…

He stood beside a pole,
started looking down a road…
Perhaps, he was waiting for
someone to be there,
or may be, it’s where
his ride was to stop.

Day after day, I saw him
repeating all the same,
came no ride to take him,
nor came any friend.
I wondered what was it about
that made him stick
to a single frame.

And then one day he broke
his pattern all same…
He did show up to be there,
but could no longer stand.
He sat there still,
till an eve’s end,
even when his body started
showing signs of pain.

What would mount up
I wondered,
to such a resilience.
Though, I lived my life
across the docks,
yet never saw any person
pulling an act like that…

Like a novice, who spent
majority of his life at pier,
watching boats all day,
making to and forth in circles…
It was hard to see a man,
not showing pedigree of passengers,
but instead a sign of a carriage.

One day he didn’t budge
from its posture,
he’s still as a milestone,
for the whole long day…
Curious, I ventured close,
to see if he’s doing well,
I found him having, apparently
his last few breaths…

He did notice my presence
in his surrounding, and
hinted me to give him a hand.
He pulled me closer to self,
with little energy he had left.
And uttered few words in my ear,
that hardly made any sense.

I saw smile in his eyes,
like a glittering silver fountain,
as if, of a soldier that has won
all fights, all the battles…
Till I saw that shine began
to gradually faint,
before I could register
it was a parting stance.

As he died, I felt,
I had lost a friend,
yet I reflected, I knew nothing
much about that man.
In few moments, I noticed
he had something
enclosed in his hands,
A paper in his fists,
something tightly clenched.

It was a letter written,
perhaps, with a red fountain:
“I’ll be there my love, with you,
for we have to follow what
we weaved,
and dance once again in a rain
that made us fall for each other
at drizzling…
I know you’ll be waiting!”

I recalled, I used to think,
one day I would become
an architect of a vessel,
that may offer wanderer
a ride to the destined place.
Little did I feel before
that man was a vessel too
for a soul’s fate.

It was then, I realized,
he waited for the beloved,
like a kid,
who after creating a paper boat,
drops it into a puddle of water –
standing still after the rain,
looking out for the wind,
wishing it to be sailed…

How few of us ever know
that a promise, the journey,
matters more
than an eventual place.
That it’s attempts that make us
know the love’s true strength.

Suddenly, sky started to cry,
like it was too attending a funeral.
I don’t know whether it was
to greet or to bid him farewell.
Right with noise of first thunder,
his last words started to make sense…
“Dream, create, rejoice…
Don’t leave stones unturned!”


– Dedicated to my maternal grand dad: Mr. Sadruddin Sohani (who passed away two days ago, loosing his fight with Cancer, but winning a war called “life” – by spending it like a King, till the very last moment).

Image Credits:
1. ‘The Harbour’ by Aminah Tasleem.
2. ‘Together’ by Arefin03 (Deviantart).

La Douleur Exquise


This time, she visited his doorstep in veil. She found him happy like she always wished, like she still prayed, like she thought of him as right before passing out each night. This should have made her happy — but actually it didn’t.

It was like a gardener watching own garden from a distance… Watching plants, trees, all flowers flourish, right the way they’re supposed to, but still without presence of one who perhaps did everything to make it happen. Whole pain was centered around a singular moment, when whole world comes to a halting point. That aura of strangeness engulfing, feeling alienated to something you always considered yourself a significant part of…

She stood there still, watching him with a constant gaze, like he’s her’s still, but just behaving strange. She’s expecting a glimpse of torment. How come he be so happy, that his eyes are not yearning for her face… For all the happiness he can have, he was perhaps not allowed to be happy this much, that there’s no sign of agony for void she left… It’s often strange with women, they start to doubt their worth, for not what man’s going through, sadness or happiness, but when it happens to be without them.

The dream she weaved, had perhaps became a reality for him with someone else. No lament could compare the one where you don’t know you should either be happy or sad.  ‘It’s different, it can’t be’, she assured herself, as she watched him getting into his car. He fades from her sight, just to get more engraved in her memories.

Somewhere at the distance, the late grown lilies were watching grey clouds, floating far from them, they had missed the spring.

His car was standing outside the park they used to meet daily, where they used to read poems to each other, such young hearts – like all the art and literature in world was a sky and they were birds floating together and freely in it…

He’s engrossed in a book, that suddenly his hand reached the right pocket of his jacket, to pick the cell phone out, he read something and just started smiling, he began to admire the world around like some tree who had got a glimpse of a new spring. He soon re-engaged himself back in to the book he was reading… Book’s cover read: “Kafka on the Shore”.

He lifted his eyes again to watch in distance, something he noticed but didn’t pay heed to mere few moments ago… A silhouette of a woman standing alone, completely firm and still, like those statues in a cemetery that often relate more to alive than to the departed… He shifted back to his book again, but then in very next second, started to type something on his cell… pressed a button, looked one last time at his surrounding, and then left the park, driving his car far from it, leaving book he was reading right on the bench he was sitting.

The gusts of wind, played with the book, like it was their’s. They had its papers fluttering into rhythm of a thunderous sky, it was hard to know who’s complaining who.

In his car, he read the same text again….

“We can’t be together – forever, but God knows I wish you to be happy forever…”, it was her last message.

He opened the side window of the car, for his eyes to converse with breeze… He can pretend to be a happiest person in the world in all public places, but he was certainly a fail to copy the same in solitude…

His fingers traverse his cell phone, to open a folder of draft messages,
“Everything would become possible, if we’re together, forget all your fears, just be with me… ‘we’ can make it forever!”, the last draft read.

He presses the button, but not to send, assuring himself again, “she knows it already… she knows she has to make a choice… she knows there’s not a thing in this world that I won’t do for her…”

The wheels of the machine, were making sure he was reaching somewhere, but it was hard to figure if it was a direction, once wished.

“We will create plaques here holding our favorite poems…”, she once said to him in a park, not knowing, how it would come true…


– Dedicated to all the possibilities and impossibilities that we create ourselves, just to put up a fault in stars for them… “It’s never over, when you know, you’ve no valid reason.”

This piece goes along with a poem, posted few day ago: “The Yearning“.

Image Credits:

1. Anaïs Nin – Potrait
2. Stillness by Eckhart Tolle, on a Park bench plaque, facing Sacramento River, Redding CA.


The Last Letter

Some letters that never reached their destination. And some letters that did...

Some letters that never reached their destination. And some letters that did…

“Though now I realize we can never be together. I still want you to remember that I loved you with all of my heart. And always wished to hear the same from you…”

That last paragraph, was the last conversation we had. It uncovered a book unread after the dust was blown off from it. I was holding her letter, without having any idea, what to do next. It was like I was handed the universe unknown to explore, but my size was shrinking by each moment, while the universe was expanding by tenths.

“Did you see her again?”
“Any where about?”
“How do you feel about it?”, He asked.

My Psychiatrist is a graduate from the Harvard. And he’s the closest thing that I have for a friend, as far as the generation-X definition of friend goes. It’s just that I pay him in dollars rather than scratching his back. But like all friends that I had, he just waits for me to come quickly at a point. And here I don’t want to miss, even the tiniest of detail.

“I have learned my lesson. Perhaps.”
“Look Doc, I know I cannot repeat it, I can’t reverse the clock, I can’t go and check if I would succeed after all this. It’s gone to never return again. All I can do is replay the memory again and again, just to find myself at place, in those corners, under those shades, with that ambiance… where I missed everything, like I wasn’t there.” – I had no way to tell him, what I sought.

“And what good would that do?”

That eve after giving him a visit, I went to a place I and her used to hang around. The rocks are same, the bench, the garden, the trees everything is same. This park used to be the place where we use to discuss the books we read. Love stories, fantasies, science fiction, philosophy and what not. Everything was there, but unconnected, like they had a feud on something. And they’re giving me this look, like I’m some stranger that has walked in amid their thing.

I have a book, its jacket, the pages, and words on them, but I lost my bookmark somewhere. I have no idea what chapter did we left on, what was the last letter that we read… I have no idea from where to move ahead.

She once narrated to me a story of a sailor that was amidst a journey and due to a sea storm, his ship got sunk, and he barely made it to the island near by, he was stranded. I asked her, if he had a compass on him or something like a flare gun, anything to go find his way home… she said, “It doesn’t matter, the ship was everything to him.”

The leaves are falling from trees, like it is a ground that loves them more.  Though it’s too late and I should be going, but I feel like home.

Bench we read letters on, bench we left some letters for.

Bench we read letters on, bench we left some letters for.

– Written as a response to an engrossing piece written by Mam Aima Jamal Yousuf, “Unrequited Love“.

Art/ Picture References:
1. Undelivered Envelope For Letter –
2. Treecat Memorial – StarLink-IRC

A Stray Dog

From old comfort zone to your comfort zone… Stray dog made journey of love.

— The story is written in tweet format. I decided to post it on twitter, but then I am not a much of a micro-blogger, so here it is.

  • Once upon a time, a person of grace with kindness in attitude, meets a stray dog in an alley, this dog sits aloof, isolated from other dogs.
  • This dog won’t do much but sit in a corner staring at a person, the stare, that gaze that would follow the person to the end of the street.
  • While other dogs would bark, this dog didn’t. Where other dogs tease, this dog won’t. Yet abnormal stare alone would scare the person most.
  • To keep the teasing dogs away. Person started to keep some cookies along. Person would throw them, dogs would jump, except this dog.
  • So person starts to experiment, like goes near the dog, throws the cookie, but yet no effect. Each day person would go step closer…
  • Until after few days when cookie was offered by hand, dog picks it. Then it creates kind of a bond among them. Person gets comfy with Dog.
  • Dog would even wrestle around with other dogs to keep this person safe. And the person will bring cookies for dog and things like a blanket.
  • Perhaps both Person and Dog bonded on what they shared in eccentricity, they’re both compassionate yet aloof, distant from world around.
  • The person would daily go to the dog, earning the pleasure in taking care of it, and seeing how much dog reciprocated the trust and love.
  • Dog started to care about person this much, that it would see the person through to the home. And person would also love the company a lot.
  • Once a friend asked the person, “What happens to a dog if you move the place? Would you carry dog along like pet, since you’ve such a bond.”
  • Person replied, “Why would I, I don’t like pets. I can’t take care of them. I don’t have time for such stuff, I’m just doing it while I can”
  • Truth was that Person wanted to accept the dog as much in life, but how can one promise someone a future, when one just lives in now.
  • Person still met Dog daily until the day Person left. And dog again was left alone, stranded, aloof in a place where it used to be always.
  • And this Dog would now not dare stare anyone and even in deepest of hunger, won’t even have a bit of cookie offered by someone else’s hand.
  • That… is a fate of stray dog, they never make it home. Job of stray dog is to be known forever as: a rogue, rebel or an alley entertainer.

Ronin (Masterless Samurai) met a Stray Dog …

  • You see, Masterless Samurai, otherwise referred as Ronin, were always referred to as Stray Dogs, because they would wander without purpose.
  • Without master – the retainer, Samurai – no matter how much skilled is of no worth. He’s either a looter, hired assassin or meager vagabond.
  • Under lord’s care Samurai would eat good, sleep good, live good with purpose and direction. The dedication to an art would have meaning.
  • But Ronin is even lesser than a peasant, as peasant would know how to farm and survive, but without lord, skilled warrior would just stray.
  • And such is also a fate of a lover without the beloved, an artist without the audience, and a person competent without the presence of work.
Stray dog dreams and associates self with the humans... Foolish chap.

Stray dog dreams and associates self with the humans… Foolish chap.

– Dedicated to the people who’d dare to love some stray dog, but would never have enough courage to take them home.

Update: 2014 – 04 – 18:

Miss Hina Arshad has recently posted this beautiful poem: “Within” that relates with the story very much. I recommend all to have a read. 🙂

As a follow-up to this story, a poem is published that revolves around the same themes, give a read to: “No One Dies“.

Art/ Image Credits:
1. Casco Viejo Stray Dog (
2. Kataoka Dengoemon Takafusa, collection: kuniyoshi_47_ronin (
3. Sochi Stray Dog (


This is a response post for the Maria Imran‘s celestial short story: “Lordly

Fawning subservient – ready for an unconditional surrender…
One who had an absolute resolve to be possessed and owned by the beloved.

A total submission like never seen before!
An eternal consummation never imagined!

The seamless compliance was not for the sake of anyone except himself.
The selfishness was indeed an inseparable part of the trade.

Neither any earth-walker nor any spirit-dweller…
ever knew what happened to the artist or the master after the act.

A curious young mind, as restless as a faithless wind…
hearing the story, commits himself to a quest.
Everyone knows the beginning of the story,
no one knows the climax.

Story of “A king and the artist”, where artist requested forever to be accompanied by a king, to remain together in exchange of the masterpiece he created reflecting the king’s grace.
Was intriguing to every heart, fascinating for each mind and lordly for all souls.

He became so determined that he embarked on a journey towards long forsaken land.
Thinking what couldn’t be earned after uncovering the secrets of such once in an eons event.

It has been ages since the occurrence.
No memory, No paper…
potent enough to hold the true essence.
No wall, No promise either…

Years passed without any information, regarding the other end of the bargain.

After years of dwelling in a same place,
Famished – loosing all hope to sustain.
Young man – not so young anymore
began to track his foot-steps back.

Loosing all the spark, he began to depart from the abandoned place.
And just then – along the way back, he encountered an old man.

As a last resort, like some seasoned hunter catching an easy prey, he inquired to him about the rare event as well.

An old man hardly able to sustain his own weight.
said he belongs to this place,
he served the King’s palace like forever…
and claimed to be the witness.

One can’t imagine the jolt of energy that it gave the young man.
Like all nerves getting restored in one moment after being numb for decades.

But confessed the old man, he didn’t see a thing after that…
He only remembers the last words of life from that event:

Taumal Fuheed Conjun

Old man left the last breath
with an echo of words
now lingering inside
the young man’s head.

Words in his mind were sketched
like memorial slab reserves
parting text – engraved.

They soon began to dissolve
in his mind like white-stone melts
during the star’s appearance.

He has to write them down, before they’re lost.

He scratched them on a rocky surface,
from where a sound of a sea water
splashing the neighborhood rocks
can be heard as clear as
an early morning rain.

What does it mean?
Why those words?
Where did they come from?
All questions in his mind,
unsettling him like a perplexing vortex.

The curious man then never left the place.
Daily came to the stone to sharpen the words, so that the edges still remain.
Finding himself always in some marvel amazement.

All his life dedicated
to find the meaning of the words
that had him absorbed
right from the mind
to body’s each membrane.

Ages passed now, he’s dying as well.
It has been days since he didn’t visit the place where words are sketched.
His whole life flashing down in a memory lane…
all goals and ambitions surrounded around uncovering that event.
All desires sanctified,
just questions remaining like a parting wish of a dying man.

Soon his eyes began to close,
he found himself in the water,
caressed by radiant warmth,
like it was lifting him above…
Each step towards the circle of shine…
Getting closer to the bright star.

Certain distance away from the ocean,
at the height of the frozen motion…
He got cold, being gradually swiped away
just like the way time pushes the old memories…
Looking like a collection of snow flakes
spread and sliding in the sky!

From there above, he saw a young man
around the rock he scribbled the letters on…

“Taumal Fuheed Conjun”

Gliding above the ocean…
He smiled,
like he knew the meaning.

There are no regrets…

Rocks, Sea and Clouds!

“Admire Majestic Union”

– Dedicated to the ciphered message and its deliverance, essence of which is known only to some fortunate souls!

Image Credits: