Archive for the ‘fiction’ Category
The last old man
Posted on: November 14, 2017
His eyes opened broadly like two big doors in a storm, and became still to see the old man standing erect like a tree outside the last home of the lane. With trembling legs and uneven breaths he walked to the old man saying; “I thought you had—–”
“See I’m alive and healthy, standing in front of you. How can I pass away when you are there” He laughed cheerfully. “I was living a happy life abroad for last 30 years but Karamat kept calling me. Now I’ve come back and will live here” having said that, the newcomer old man took his hands in his. The old man felt all his energy passes on to the newcomer’s body. His hands became lifeless. His eye balls moved uselessly and uneven breaths made him more like a puppet. A blow of weakness misbalanced him hence he held the railing of the gate. The son of the new comer supported him and asked him if he was okay. “Can you drop me home?” “Of course, why not uncle” the young man then supporting him helped him to sit on the front seat of his car and safely dropped him home. His family was shocked to see him. He who was on his heels and toes all the time was unable to stand on his feet. He couldn’t even walk to his room so was carried on a chair. The past 12 years of his old, bored colorless frigid life over shadowed him once again. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. It looked he had seen the last scene. That very day he breathed his last before dusk————
The end
The last old man (1st part)
Posted on: November 11, 2017
- In: fiction
- 2 Comments
There were 42 houses adjacent to each other from one end to the other in that lane. Sixty years back these houses were inhibited by eighty young men. All of those young men perished like withered autumn leaves with swiftly passing years, except for the last two old men. One lived in the eleventh house on the right side of the lane while the other lived in the same lane in sixteenth house.
The old man who lived in the sixteenth house was a retired military soldier who combated Nazis with British Army on Burmese border in the Second World War. Being a soldier he was strong and sturdy. Hence having crossed his ninety years of life he was still living an active life. The other reason for his fine health and long life was his care free nature. He would rise early morning and sit on a carved stool in the rear garden. He was least interested in domestic chores. He liked to stay with nature most of the time and avoided to stay indoors. One day he had to go inside for no reason, but because he was called in—called in by none other but the angel of death.
After three days of struggle between life and death the soldier finally surrendered and breathed his last. His soul flew off, with the angel of death on the highway to heavens.
Now out of those forty houses the old man of eleventh house still lived. His relatives didn’t break the news of his death to the other living old man. They feared he might quit breathing being so feeble as he couldn’t even change his position from one side to other.
One of his nephews who were his buddy too, broke the news of the old soldier’s demise to him. Before the sad news reached his ears, his daily schedule was like the antique clock that stopped working and its two arms stuck at one point. If he lay for long on one side he could roll his eye balls only to see the goings-on in the room, being so fragile, he couldn’t move. He remained awake for weeks or drowsy for months. No matter what condition he was in, always asked about his other living old friends’ daily activities and schedule and if he was healthy or bedridden. When informed about his well being he would go back into coma. His diet and medicines were of equal quantity. He ate very less. He had no ailment except for old age.
When he was told about the death of the soldier who was older than him, he breaking the shackles of age and physical weakness emerged as a new powerful man from his cocoon.
He moved the time run backwards.
to be continued
Urdu blog
Posted on: October 30, 2016
- In: fiction
- 2 Comments
اپنی ادا پر میں فدا
بھئی آپ مانیں یا نہ مانیں ہم بہت خوبصورت ہیں۔اس قدر بے پایاں حسن ہے کہ کیا کہوں۔ بس بات صرف اتنی ہے کہ ہمارا طلسماتی حسن سب کی نظروں سے مستور ہے۔ کسی کو نظر ہی نہیں آتا۔ اماں کو بھی یہی فکر جنت تک لے گئی کہ اس لڑکی کا ہوگا کیا۔ کالج تو خیر لڑکیوںکا تھا اسلئے کوئی مسئلہ نہ ہوا۔ ہاں البتہ یونیورسٹی کے لڑکوںکی آنکھوں پر ایسی دبیز پٹی اور پردے پڑے رہے کہ مجال ہے کہ کسی نے سیٹی بجائی ہو یا پیچھا کیا ہو یا بہانے سے ٹائم ہی پوچھ لیا ہو،۔ آرام سے ہم ہر جگہ دھڑلے سے گھومتے تھے،۔ کوئی فکر ڈر نہیںتھا کہ کوئی پیچھا کرے گا۔ اغوا کوئی خاک کرتا۔ مزے اور سکون سے شب و روز گزر رہے تھے۔ ہم بے حد مسرور و شاداں تھے اپنے حسن پر۔ اللہ بھلا کرے آئینہ گروں کو کہ اس میں اپنا حسن دیکھ کر خود ہی فدا رہتے تھے۔ کبھی دائیں زاویے سے تو کبھی بائیں۔کبھی مسکرا کے اور کبھی شرما کے دیکھتے تو خود ہی سرشار ہو جاتے کہ اللہ نے کس قدر فراخ دلی سے ہمیں تخلیق کیا ۔ ہر انداز تو ہمارا دلربانہ تھا۔ اب عقل کے اندھوں کو نظر نہ آئے تو صرف ان پر لعنت ہی بھیجی جا سکتی ہے۔
ہاں ہمارے حسن کا ادراک ہمیںبھی تھا اور ایک میرے بھائی کو۔ ان کی نظر میں میں بہت حسین تھی۔ ذرا سا بخار ہوتا تو وہ کہتے اس کو نظر ہو گئی ہے۔ کہتے تھے پھولوں کی طرح نازک ہے۔ ذرا میں کھل جاتی اور ذرا میں مرجھاجاتیہے۔ ان کی بے پناہ محبت نے حسن میںحسن پر مزید ہزاروں چاند لگا دئے تھے۔
بھائی تو خیر تھے ہی بہت وجیہہ، ناک نقشہ، ذہانت ، وقار، اور مردانہ وجاہت کا خوبصورت شاہکار۔ لڑکیاں اپنی آنکھیں، پلکیں، زلفیں، سب ان کے لئے فرش راہ کرتی تھیں۔متاثر اور مقید کرنے کے سب گر آزماتی تھیں،۔ بھائی بھی کوئی کنجوس یا بد ذوق تھوڑی تھے۔ سب کو داد و تحسین اور تحفوں سے نوازتے ۔ جس کا جو حق ہوتا اسے دیتے۔ مگر تھے آخر فوجی، اسلئے اپنے دشمن ، کافر، جادوگر ، حسینائوں سے ایک فاصلہ رکھتے۔ باغ کی حد تک، پھول پھلواری تک رنگ و بو سے مظوظ ہونے کا حق اور فرض نبھاتے۔ مگر گھر کی چوکھٹ پر پہلے ماں اور پھر بیوی جیسے سخت گیر رہبر پر مستعدی سے چوکس رہتے۔
لہٰذا ملک کی سرحدوں کی بھائی نے حفاظت کی، اور گھر کی پہلے ماں نے پھر بھابھی نے،۔ ہم تو ہر حال میں مسرور۔ کبھی کبھی تو افسوس اور حسرت ہوتی تھی کہ آخر ہمارے حسن بے مثال پر کسی کی نظر ہی نہیں پڑتی۔
خواتین بھی ہرایک کو خود کو ہم سے زیادہ خوبصورت سمجھتی اور بر ملا اظہار بھی کر دیتیں۔ حالانکہ وہ معصوم یہ نہیں جانتی تھیں کہ دل ہی دل میں ہم بھی خود کو ان سے لاکھوں درجہ حسین و ہوشربا مانتے ہیں۔ شادی میں بھی دلہن بن کر شیشے میں خود کو دیکھا تو ششدر رہ گئے، کہ یا اللہ تونے اتنا پیارا بنایا ہے سبحان اللہ۔ مگر مجال ہے تو ایک لفظ بھی کسی کے منہ سے غلطی سے نکل گیا ہو۔ ظاہر ہے بھئی حسد اور جلن بھی تو ہے نا ۔
اب کوئی کیا کرے۔
شوہر کو بھی کبھی توفیق نہ ہوئی کہ اللہ کو راضی کرنے کے لئے اسکی حسین تخلیق کی تعریف میں منہ پر دو لفظ ہی کہ دیتے۔ بس وہ ہماری تصویروں کے عاشق تھے، جو نہ سنتی تھیں نہ بولتی تھیں۔ ہاں گا کر ضرور اظہار کر دیتے تھے کہ ِ ، ہونٹوں سے چھو لو تم میرا گیت امر کر دو۔ ارے بھائی گیت بھی ان کا امر بھی ہم ہی کریں۔ بس جی ہمیں کبھی نہ احساس کمری ہوا نہ دکھ کہ کوئی اس حسن زوال پزیر کی کوئی تعریف نہیں کرتا،کیوں کہ ہم اپنی ادا پر ہمیشہ خود ہی فدا رہے اور آج بھی ہیں۔
اللہ پاک حسین و جمیل ہے، تو اس نے ہر چیز بھی حسین بنائی ہے، اب زمانہ چشم بینا سے محروم ہے تو ہم کیا کریں۔ ہم تو حسین ہیں بھئی۔
Love knows no boundaries!
Posted on: October 4, 2014
- In: fiction
- 2 Comments
It’s a true story about a very handsome ultra modern young man. He belonged to a very educated civilized privileged family. A word from his mouth of any wish was at once fulfilled.
He is the youngest of his seven brothers and 3 sisters. He was born in a Muslim family. But he never practiced any formal religious duties. He would sing dance attend parties and was not less than a playboy. He had a flock of friends. All of them were trendy and easygoing.
When got home late night, he was snubbed scolded by elder brothers and mother. Having belonged to a cultured and good family with values and virtues followed, so he just listened to hot words with his head down, uttering not a single word. He slipped in his room quietly for the next day’s plans with his friendsJ
Constant nagging, scolding and asking to get serious to either do job or take care of family business Abdullah decided to get into hotel industry. He joined classes to become a chef.
There he enjoyed the hotel ambiance and learning too. During this one of cousins kept seeing him often. Though Abdullah tried to avoid seeing him as his cousin Shan was trying to guide him to the virtuous path. Consistent effort worked. Abdullah gradually left his friends’ late night parties and dating etc. He started coming early at home. Parents and all family members were pleased to see the positive change in him.
His elder brother who was doing business in Bosnia asked him to join him. Hence Abdullah went to Bosnia. For couple of weeks he just visited sightseeing places. His brother wanted him to get familiar with new environment so he let him do what it pleases him.
One day Abdullah having an inquisitive nature went to a cemetery to see their way of making graves and system. There he saw a young very pretty girl lying under a tree insensible.
Abdullah was a stranger and didn’t know the system of handling problems. But as a human being he knew that he should help her. Thus he carried her to a hospital in cab.
Abdullah used to visit her daily. She was crippled, having only one leg. She had lost hope to live a happy life so addicted to drugs.
Abdullah fell in love with her. Her beauty was mesmerizing. Lara also became fond of him. Abdullah married her. Abdullah’s mother did not approve of this marriage as she wanted him to marry a normal Muslim girl. Abdulla convinced his mother by saying that a normal girl could have met accident and lost her leg then would Abdullah leave her? Lara was a lucky girl. Abdullah loved her deeply. He washed cleaned cooked everything. She completed her education and became lecturer. Allah blessed with a son.
Abdullah was getting aged and tired of earning and looking after wife and son. So he married a Libyan widow with her 4 children.
Abdullah got one daughter from his new wife. Lara allowed Abdullah without any ill feeling.
Now he has 6 children and two wives. The two families live in separate homes but not far away. All of them are happy. Abdullah is basically a very kindhearted man. He was so handsome and rich that he could easily marry any beautiful girl but he tried to help and be happy
Love begets love!
A Teacher is always Teacher
Posted on: September 29, 2014
- In: fiction
- 3 Comments
A story of brains, common sense and presence of mind
It’s a long time back story when people led simple life and helped each other.
Amina was a teacher. After her retirement she planned to see the places she had taught in class for so many years. She went from one place to another and enjoyed to see the important sightseeing spots. It took her months as she walked on foot by and large.
She reached a small village Spin Kali in north of Pakistan. By the time she got there, she had finished all her money.
She had not eaten anything for 3 days so was very hungry. She had a small cooking pot that she carried with her everywhere. She cooked in it, ate from it and drank water from it. It was a multi-use pot. It was time she didn’t know how to kill her hunger.
She was a teacher—-so had brains and common sense both! Teacher is always a teacher!
Some passersby saw an old unfamiliar lady making a fire.
Without taking any notice of them, she put some water in the cooking pot from the nearby lagoon. Then she put some weeds and pebbles in the pot. The villagers who had seen her build a fire saw her cooking something while going back home. They stopped and asked her who she was and what was she cooking.
She replied politely; “I am making soup of pebbles and herbs. This soup keeps young and energetic driving old age away.” She further said that; “it’s an ancient tasty recipe passed down to her from her ancestors.” Amina then dropped in a smooth, round white stone she had in her pocket into the pot.
Amina told the villagers stories of her travels and the exciting things she’d seen. As the soup warmed, tasting the soup told them that it was coming along nicely, but, “a bit of salt would bring out the taste.” One curious villager went into her home and returned with some salt for the soup.
A few more villagers stopped by to see what was going on. She asked for some carrots, onion or veggies to add to the already delicious soup. So, another villager brought handful of peas, carrots garlic and tomatoes to her.
Hearing about a weird lady making a special soup developed interest and excitement among people of that village. Amina’s outlandish stories fascinated the simple villagers. Step by step Amina made them bring some meat, potatoes to make the soup more nutritious.
Finally, the soup was ready and everyone enjoyed the tasty meal prepared for them from just pebbles, weeds, veggies, meat and other items. Thus she herself enjoyed the soup along with others.
Her stories and common sense made people friends with her. They welcomed her to stay as long as she wanted to in their village. She stayed there till she breathed her last. She educated children and adults. She groomed their personalities. She also opened a school for children under a huge ancient tree. The name of the school was decided and chosen by all students and teachers. Our Future
she changed the outlook of the village and brought productive changes. She also educated the women and taught them many skills to live, love life respectfully. She’s still remembered with great respect and love
Working together, with each of us contributing a bit, we can be successful.
I miss you adorable ones
Posted on: September 1, 2014
Miss you——-
Miss you——-
Far from the maddening city,
the fields, meadows, pastures, lagoons, and a small jungle near the Airport in Faisalabad.
The birds seen on National Geography Channel only are glimpsed and heard in their sweet melodious hum early morning.
Reptiles, jackals, wild rabbits, foxes, pigs, and many other animals are also seen there.
I saw most of them during my stay.
It is a beautiful picturesque area of Pakistan.
I have had the honor and pleasure of living there for quite some time.
I had a maid Meera.
She was in her twenties.
I liked her charming personality.
After she completed her 10th grade, her mother asked her to sit at home.
She read magazines and story books I bought.
Meera was a good storyteller too.
Whenever she finished her work or embroidery, she would tell different happenings of that place.
One day while oiling my hair, Meera told me a touching true story. “Several kilometers from where they lived was a ruined mansion in an isolated locale.
That mansion belonged to a business icon.
Learned and refined Mr. Aslam lived a happy life with his two small daughters and a beautiful wife.
There were fruit gardens, fields of sugar cane, wheat, and veggies, and a stable.
Aslam was fond of Arabian horses, and flower beds of seasonal flowers added fragrance and splendor to the garden.
The couple enjoyed seeing their daughters play and chuckle.
God blessed them with everything.
Outside the mansion was a fish pond with a variety of fishes.
The setting was tempting.
Aslam was a kind and bighearted man.
Passersby and well-wishers envied while step brothers felt jealous.
He ran a flourishing gold and precious stones business in South Africa.
He purchased a more luxurious house than the one in Faisalabad to settle there with his family.
His step-brother always created problems for him
Finally, the day came.
Aslam’s family was coming home.
He sat smiling and about his family in Swiss Airlines to live a peaceful life with his family in Nigeria.
He expected his family to greet him at the airport, but something upset him when he saw the chauffeur only.
All the way home sat silent and nervous.
He missed a heartbeat to see people waiting for him.
His stepbrother Rashid stepping forward, told of his family dying the night before while sleeping.
Nobody knew the cause of their tragic death.
Rashid tried to comfort him as he had taken control of the affairs.
Mr. Aslam did not expect the tear-jerking news.
He got a nervous breakdown.
Aslam could not recover from the shock.
He became a drifter.
He never stayed in one place but restlessly kept moving in the same vicinity.
Aslam lost his business and property.
The stepbrothers cheated on him.
The fish pond turned into a stagnant water puddle.
Mosquitoes, flies, and creepy-crawly insects increase pollution with venom and an awful stink.
The garden and fields became fruitless and dead.
Weeds and wild bushes attract goats and cows. Caretakers of their animals relax their exhausted bodies under thick bushes or lean against a knoll there.
Meanwhile, their animals enjoy grazing.
The setting sun and falling night overshadowed the light.
The people hurry to leave that place. That old deserted house looks haunted at night. Darkness adds a scene of lost souls and supernatural powers boogieing and playing clanging instruments.
The isolated locale is scary at night.
People avoid passing by.
Shabbily clothed in rags, weird looks, tangled hair, and old shoes came every Sunday with the rising sun.
Silence prevailed as everyone slept.
Spreading an old tattered mucky blanket, he sat at the side of a knoll with closed eyes in deep thinking.
After some time, he took out his flute from the same old bag to play a mystical note.
Birds came down, and cats, dogs, ducks, and passersby gathered around him.
It seemed as if they felt comfort and relief in hearing his flute that mesmerized the whole scenario of that polluted area.
No one could ever think that he was Aslam!
He was a handsome and cultured business icon once.
Years have passed.
Death is still a mystery.
It was strange that He never forgot the day of his fabulous wedding.
Hence every year on 25th December he especially came there.
Lay flowers and recite the following;
Remember, I miss you when———
The Poplar blooms
The Pine blubber
The Cyprus whimper
Remember, I miss you
The Moon shines
The spring trickles
The Jasmine emits a fragrance
Remember, I miss you!
The Partridge whines
The Cherries ripened
The sparrows tweet
Remember, I miss you!
The Ravi wobbles
The Chenab grouches
The Sutlej is jittery
Remember, I miss you!
The Shoots sprout
The Cuckoo coos
The Lightening cracks
Remember, I miss you!
The Sunsets,
The Star dies
The Traveler misled
Remember, I miss you!
The Clouds holler
The Rains slobber
The Hearts clobber
Remember, I miss you!
I was so touched to hear this story.
I prayed for the souls to rest in peace and for Aslam to recover from his grief.
The Hawk and the Farmer
Posted on: October 16, 2012
Once there was a wise farmer. One day, he spread a net over his cornfields to save his newly planted seeds, to catch the crows.
While chasing pigeons, a hawk was flying over the farmer’s cornfield. Before he could make out, he found himself trapped in the net. The farmer was observing the hawk trying hard to flee away from the net.
He went over to the captive bird of prey.
The hawk said to the farmer as he got near: “I was just chasing a pigeon. This is all by mistake. The fortunate pigeon flew right over your field. I was not going to do a bit of harm to your cornfield. Believe me, sir!”
“That may be,” replied the farmer. “But I doubt what you are saying. I am afraid I am going to twist your neck.”
MORAL OF THE STORY:
Ignorance is not bliss everyday 🙂
Was it love——-?
Posted on: September 20, 2012
- In: fiction
- 8 Comments
She was frantically wailing standing beside the open sewer; my son—-O’ Lord, my son, my son———. Her four year old son had slipped in the gutter which was full of garbage and trash giving out horrible smell. Her son breathed his last in front of her eyes. No one had the guts to pull him out. He was draggled and soiled all over. The mother was aware that her son was no more. People from the neighborhood stood there watching, quietly, avoiding the grieved mother’s helplessness—–when——– a black shining limousine stopped by.
A handsome tall rich gentleman dressed in pricey white suit, got down. Casting a glance at the mother, sliding down in the gutter, he brought out the child’s body in his arms. Mother holding her grubby dead son tightly hugged him all over.
She forgot the man who had taken out her son from the gutter. He was the man who, she discarded to marry for his low status, few years back———!
Regret ———
Posted on: September 19, 2012
- In: fiction
- 6 Comments
Risking his life to death, he dragged the drowning woman to the shore.
Taking off her gold bangles, necklace, diamond ring and earrings, let her go, with the flow of the fuming flood waves, regretting that he could have satisfied his lust too, if she was alive —————
Sandals—-
Posted on: September 17, 2012
- In: fiction
- 6 Comments
He: “I want to touch you——!”
She: “Do you know it’s dishonest?”
He: “yeah, I know it is— I am married too—–yet—I just wanna touch you, feel you!”
She: “When——now?”
He: “yeah- now-this very moment——-now- please, I’ll die if you don’t let me!”
Considering his last wish, she stepped forward—- with a feeling of disgrace, to fulfill his last wish——but——–he couldn’t touch her——–for—-he breathed his last breath!
He died——–!
With a heavy heart and feeling of guilt she went home—-but——–
Seeing her maid’s sandals outside her closed bedroom——-her guiltiness lessened a bit——–
blessings for all
Just Bliss 