Winners of Quaid’s Day Competition

Happy New Year Everyone!
Lets start this year with some prizes, shall we?
Winners will be featured in #BeyondSanityPublishing website irumzahra.wordpress.com and #Anthology this year in #June !
They will also get cash prizes, 2000, 1500 and 1000 respectively from #JosheJunoon
All remaining articles will be published online and given a certificate.
Congratulations!

Chasing Shine on a Bridge that won’t Shine.

In dreams I dreamed on the shores of tomorrow,
I dreamt where the suns stood sentinel
in negligence watching the innocence burn
sentinels perfectly content and sane

In trellis of the hot kinned blood, stood,
a bridge made of blackness being crushed from all sides

A bridge that cradled
a set of twins, two boys separated by a year so near twins, almost brothers

Sons of the same planet
Earth of the Earth their father
In a past dry as tinder, stacked ready to go, something new ready rise up, aglow

A stone bridge stuck in medieval Europe amidst the forested hills and the green knolls ;
distasteful like when the years become sacred

Two boys one five the other six, or the other six and one five or nothing both

One droll and the other grim on this papery bridge

Two little boys, one on a bike the other afoot, chasing each other’s colors and shine
their mingling shadows chasing them
fording, the cobblestones trodden by their pitter-pattering feet, crossing this Bridge of Fear their voices prattling and warm
promise of everything lies at the other end, waiting for them. The other side promising them sanctuary a safe refuge from the hands of men

This bridge span for centuries reaching everywhere and we ran and ran and we ran some more. There are no dour trolls under the bridge soured by our presence. Only time stretching our lives, our indelible bodies taut taunting us their fare for our passage of time

In the cave of our youth, we hear the song again for the first time. It’s time to step out
it’s only a bridge, time we don’t need you anymore, we are taking back our names

The flintlock charges go off, we are scrambling running across the stones, we are getting off this, we are ditching this bridge of pestilence

You are on the bike, I am on foot, running after you I see you
You rode I run trying to catch up
I keep you within my sight the distance between us grinning at me and we are furlonged by Age.
But I muster on, pushing myself. I must. Not. Fall. Behind. You blurred in front of me. I let the bond flood me, the blood of my own pounding in my head. I panic. I feel the same pounding headache the fish felt seeing the wolf get slaughtered in front of it.

I gain purchase. I gain I gain I gain. Again. I lost. There are no surprises here. There are no songs .

You are my reflection, only better. You are the charcoal sketch of myself, only vibrant and defined in a world that is drab
the world around us is crumbing, our world is crashing around us.

we are hithering and thithering , we are hightailing outta here. One after the other. One running. One following. None getting none the wiser
childhood felling as we sweep by, passing the felled boyhood

you are pedaling so fast, too fast
I can’t catch up out of breath already
on this derelict bridge
you pedal on and on
not looking back
toward a devastated future

In the dreams I dreamed on the ashes of yesterday, on the birth of the night

I am always surrounded by knaves on all sides corned, and you are always coming in to rescue me from the left
Now I can’t rescue you
Not sure if you really want me to

Why is the shiny new bike not enough for you
Why are you always saddled on the need for want, always wanting more
going
farther and farther away from me

In those dreams I dreamed I dreamt
you are on a bike as solid as lies pedaling away face upturned, eyes skyward and I am on the bridge made of clouds

You are forever chasing the shine of balloons
and
I am forever chasing you.

Asghar Abbas For Beyond Sanity Publishing

Find the original post here:

The Sky in a Square

Squares on top of squares,

the many shacks that lined

the city circumference ;

the sky above her city at dusk

shrunk into a blue square on the wall

in each of them.

The city with all its lights and sounds

shrunk to fit in her window frame,

and her square soul stared at it starry-eyed.

The squares of blue,

her eyes stitched

into the sky that spread above

the city that never loved her.

Priya Prithviraj For Beyond Sanity Publishing

Is this Quaid.e.Azam’s Pakistan

Hey Everyone.
I am very happy to announce that in a short time, we received over 23 articles on the topic and we have chosen top 10 and forwarded to our jury.
Me, Writer, Publisher
Samana Riaz, J.E.J
Asghar Abbas, Internationally published writer
And Hafiza Noor.ul.Ain, Writer of The Youth Of Pakistan, International writer
And we will be announcing the best three on Dec, 31st
Top 10 will get certificates and their articles will be published on my website and top 3 will get cash prizes, 2000, 1500 and 1000 along with certificate and submission of their articles in Beyond Sanity Publishing anthology next year in June.
Will update the details soon!

The Guiding Star

The darkness falls and out of all

The stars up there , find you will

With beauty pure  and spark so bright

Standout one that will catch your sight

The one you can call your guiding star

Always burning just to show you path

When eagles are headed to eyries

And the bats are out for work

When the owls begin to hoot

And wolves are there to howl

I’ll be your guiding star

The burning one to show you path

When the night is dark as coal

And  the crickets fear to chirp

When  black wears  even the moon

Look up and you will find soon

The one you call your guiding star

Burning just for you to show the path

When the stars are off to sleep

And out of dark the sun creeps

When illuminated is every grain

The special one awaits again

For the night to fall once more

To  light the path and let you explore

Marva Sohail For Beyond Sanity Publishing

Quaid.e.Azam Day

Josh e Junoon in collaboration with Beyond Sanity Publishing is organizing an online article writing competition on the topic
“Is this Quaid’s Pakistan”
Total words : 1000
Last date of submission: 24th December 2015 till 12am night.
Email at: joshejunoon2012@gmail.com
Its an open invitation for all.anyone can submit it.
Top 10 articles will be published by Beyond Sanity Publishing company and first three positions will be awarded by money prizes.
Rs. 2000 for 1st position
Rs. 1500 for 2nd position Rs. 1000 for 3rd position

Certificates will be awarded to all top 10 selected article writers.

For details contact
0334-8515211

A Tribute To APS Heroes

With the intention of penning down a few words as a tribute to the APS martyrs and for commemorating the death anniversary of almost 150 little faces that deserved to be alive today, I merely wanted to write my condolences.

But even after minutes and hours, I realized I sat there scrolling through the pictures and reading the shared insights. All my paper,which I was able to fill was with the tears that fell off my eyes unknowingly. In that moment I realized I was crying for children I had never met in life, I was feeling the agony of their mothers without even my mom having to say that mainstream line; ‘‘You’ll understand once you yourself are a mother.’’ I was envisioning that apocalyptic day when I hadn’t been a part of it. It left me stunt to feel the ache when a time span of a year had passed having that incident occurred. It burnt inside of me- Humanity: The feel.

No doubt, they are sure in a better place, Like Mubeen’s father repeatedly said

‘’Today would be his wedding in Paradise’’

while welcoming the people who came to offer condolences.

And Like Shaheer writes to his brother Arham,

“I know you are happy up there with Allah (SWT). I always pray after Isha prayer and ask Him to let you talk to me in my dreams. Even if it is just once. At least once. You should talk to me. Abbu and Ammi need it. I need it. We know you are okay, but I just want to hear you say it.Take care of your friends there. I can imagine how festive the air around Jannat must be right now, I am sure you lit up the sky with your presence. Allah (SWT) must be so happy that such innocent and brave souls are now near Him.”

A boy’s lost dream of becoming an ISI officer was not just a dream lost, instead endeavored hundreds of boys to see this dream.

They are certainly in a superior place. From that brutal morning to this date, the enthusiasm we witnessed in youngsters, when we were anticipating that the survivors would experience Post Traumatic Stress Disorders was heart-stopping. They surprised us yet again, with the fortitude the survivors wanted to go back to school. The siblings and the companions of the martyrs had passion to take forward the dreams of their fellows. Yes this did not kill humanity, instead it revived humanity. The terrorists who by the grace of Almighty are in ‘‘their presumably expected paradise’’ receiving their ‘rewards’ not only resuscitated humanity but passion for education.

The best reprisal line that turned out after this incident was not to kill the children of the animalistic terrorists or to end their descendants, but rather to educate the child of the very terrorists. It takes me by absolute awe, what might be the expressions on the faces of those terrorists when they would have seen innocent faces, singing this tune, which makes shivers run down our spines? What feelings would pass, ripping them apart, when they would be seeing us as a society walking together, commemorating the memories of the day?

Did they plan they were to spread apprehension of no escape?  Hope was spread around. Was their plan to spread apprehension of no escape and end lives? They breathed life in the society. Were they eager to harm individuals? They prepped more grounded patriots. Had their intentions been to target the future soldiers?  They brought forth better warriors. Would they have liked to retaliate for Army? They gave us more martyrs to pay tributes to. Their success was but failure.

Humanity was killed but humanity was resuscitated.

They came all geared up to take revenge in vain and to end the passion for education, instead they triggered it like anything. Every bullet, every drop of blood, the enthusiasm, the grit, the hope increasingly elevated.

A long time after now, we will be telling the stories of how less than ten heinous assailants who lacked humanity, revived humanity, to our grandchildren perhaps, Just be sure you have more to tell than just,

they went to school and never came back…

A candle melts down whilst it burns, the smolder turns into a blaze at times.

Azka Saqib For Beyond Sanity Publishing

Reflections In the Right Ventricle

Darlin. Your heart is a machine.
An organ.
A blood pumping mechanism.
Not something with endless feelings and hollowness ready to consume your body when it breaks into a million pieces.
Maybe it is that too.
Maybe it is all you are.
Your heart becomes you when you keep reminding yourself everyday that you are you when your heart rules you and your emotions.
Now I know people tell you that your heart is the worst thing you have because it doesn’t see clearly and it makes ridiculous choices but honey,
Your heart is where it all began. Where God lives.
How can it present you with lies?
You can see through the mirror laughing back at you because it is so indulged in hopes and false feelings.
Maybe you love a rock. Maybe a broken pencil.
Maybe maybe maybe.
Your whole life is a maybe.
Don’t be someone who moves against the current of the blood flow.
Make your heart your guide.
Make it visible in yout eyes when you see yourself in the mirror.
And goddamn it, LIVE.

#Invictus
Reflections in the right ventricle
Copyright , #IrumZahra

Longing for Rights By Maham Fatima

Born square measure we tend to in an exceedingly world brimful,

With chaos and unrest,

Where traffic is not any surprise,

The cries of our fellow comrades go inaudible ,

This cannot continue any more,

Destruction overrules our constitution.

Every human deserves an opportunity,

To live a life that’s crammed with joy and gaiety,

Those square measure the rights that the Lord talented them,

And no different human has any right to revoke them.

Are humans therefore hostile,

That they do not care regarding others’ suffering and pain,

Has the thorn in your flesh injured your heart for too long?

That the feeling is going you,

That you just not care?

If you think within the Lord,

You have to believe others,

And if you destroy others,

You are destroying yourself,

You are killing your own rights.

Maham Fatima For Beyond Sanity Publishing

Photo By: Team Josh.e.Junoon,Pakistan

FRAGMENT ON EARTH

 I see no one by my side, I see no one when I look behind. It seems every road is saying no to me, the word ‘destiny’ is out of my life’s dictionary.

I always think and give a thought what am I doing here? Where do I have to go? Hell what? Where? Why…and yes! Many more freaking questions, which won’t be answered today, tomorrow…never in future too.

God witnessing this moment is the worst you could do for me. God! You rewarded me with the things I never wanted, you hardly cared for my heart and its desires. I never complained coz’ I don’t even demanded them. But why this? I know in this big world there are numerous people who pray and even fast for their wishes to be fulfilled. God! I understand you must be busy somewhere fulfilling the wishes of others. But, don’t you think among these people you are leaving her.

Yes it’s me. I don’t demand much but just want to remind you to shower some blessings over here too. I have long forgotten about the things I dot deserve but, I have done at least enough for what I really want or is it just a game for you?

Well this game has been one sided. For every long now I request you to leave the thought of winning every time. You must be thinking why am I cursing and complaining to god so much? So here goes my story:

3 august 2012, 2:40 pm

I just stepped out from my lancers’ bus, giggling, laughing and talking with my friends.

On my way back to home, Gaurav came. I asked, ‘What now?’ in an irritating and weird expression.

Gaurav said, ‘Chill I am not here to disturb you but there is something serious. I am going to murthal, he met with an accident. Please don’t scold him and you relax.’

‘What? How? When?’ I asked in shock, nervousness, senti and each and every expression I could make. I sweated, cried…I rushed to the house, dialing each and every number I had but all the numbers were off.

‘Kuch kha too le, aate hi phone par lag gayi’ mom shouted. She asked, ’Paani too pee. Kya hua you seem tensed’.

3:00 pm

Ting tong!

Guess what who was there at the door…some known faces, some were unknown too. Tuition mates, society friends, vidya bharti mutual friends. My friend held my hand and asked, ‘Kuch pata chala?’

I was still confused, still blabbering. She said, ‘he…ummm…’ and what next I fainted. I still wonder vo paani ka glass kaha gaya that my mother holded at that time. Spilled on the floor out of shock or thrown on my face.

You must be wondering who ‘he’ is. What happened next. Here you go what actually happened.

I miss him a lot, we spent years together. But today he is no more in this world. He died few months and two years ago in an accident while returning from murthal. I still remember, he used to teach me accounts as our tuition used to be the same, used to fight over 1 mark, seats and all the kidish things.

Few months back while I was giving English classes staring at that poem…Khushi asked, ‘ didi, what happened?’. I replied her back with a smile and a tear dropped too. Oh’ ozymandious,  I taught him the same.

‘he’- oops! I forgot who is ‘he’? vaibhav bhateja. Every time he used to ask me and complain ‘ yaar please bhateja mat bola karo na personality ko suit nhi karta’ hahaha ! I used to laugh even more as I am doing right now. On our way to tuition, we used to be together, talking, discussing at time, arguing about marks, eating green lays, momos. All of a sudden he held my hand and asked me to shift a bit.

‘please thoda is side ho jao.’ I asked ‘ what happened? Often this thing has happened.’ He replied,’ I wont tell you now else you will make a mock out of me’. The reason was.’ Yaar I am afraid of dogs. I get nervous. I get numb.’ I replied hahaha as if I am Jhansi ki rani.

‘bandariya’ – my nickname given by him. I still cant find out the reason why he used to call me so. Similarly he was my bandar. What relation it was, is still a mystery. Our society aunties used to complain that we roam around, hang out so something must be going on. But we knew what it was. I wont say my boyfriend, my soul mate or any other name, but a guy rather a stranger became my best friend and beyond that. A guy who was so sweet, caring, close to my heart, from whom I never thought to be apart. A guy who never talked about love life but his future of becoming a C.A. , love his family unconditionally, thought of their happiness, always used to share whenever I will grow up, promise will become something for them. His words used to motivate, inspire me. He was supposed to carry me, handle me, tackle me, until death do us apart.

I never believed in love until the day I first saw him. The day I first spoke to him. I just could not stop smiling whenever I heard his name. He taught me actually what true love was. He used to say whenever any old person passes by he just had one thought, ‘ mujhe bhudha nhi hona.’

I rarely go out to talk to anyone since that miserable day of my life. I can fool the world with my fake smile but not my close ones. Every time they ask me about the matter I simply refuse and change the topic. He died, I cried. World take my smile as my happy go lucky life but I know inside it’s me who is dying.

Our memories of our time spent together makes me smile and his loss makes me cry at the same time.

I just pray to god that just once if I could get him back again. I just pray I would have died in his place but I want him alive back, just to hug him tight and never leave. I still daydream about his coming back to life just living like before once again. Whenever my friend ask me to move on I with tears just smile and walk away. I can go on for days and months talking about him and his qualities. Every night I go to bed crying despite knowing the fact there is no coming back.

I wish I could bring him from heaven…sometimes I wish heaven to have visiting hours. I just want to spend one last day with him, just one more time, one last goodbye. But alas! I could only wish. The gaps between my fingers have been vacant for too long now, it’s been too long since I saw the eyes that could show the real ME. I don’t see the light anymore, just a dark road leading to a limbo, this loneliness is just killing me, it is eating me from inside. But, you only tell me god, the only possible answer that might keep me going.

There was a voice that always told me that I am special, even when I know I am not. There was a hand that could guide me through the darkest of the despair, islands you could ever create, there was a smile who trusts me more than I do, which made me felt how beautiful place this world is, there were eyes that made crawling to live another life, even the thought of him used to bring order out of chaos in my messed up life, with I could be exactly as you (god) made me.

That hand, that smile, with those twinkling eyes was ‘he’ vaibhav. You brought him to my life and my life turned upside down, he was no less than a divine miracle of yours in my life. I started believing in you, in me, in love and in life. But…that happiness was temporary. Ultimately my heart was broken. God you showed your true side. Don’t take me to that bridge which I inevitably have to cross and jumping off might seem a better option and I promise I would die a thousand times just to have one moment with him. I miss him with every drop of my blood and every sigh of breath has his name written on it. It would be a shame to let the most beautiful thing that you created to see its DEATH. I can promise you one thing that it’s the most honest prayer that you would ever hear,

‘You are the only one who has asked him before me.’

It was both sided but maybe we were not blessed together from your side and left only with one sided love, one who is with you sitting by your side and other praying. Remember god, you have him in your arms but I have him in my heart. In this life game you won, but you have no choice except making him mine in next and many more births to come.

‘’ Death is the loss of life, but you are my loss for rest of my life” 

Divya Malhotra For Beyond Sanity Publishing

Art By Sheharyar Fakeha