Posts Tagged ‘inspiration’

Do me wrong, do me right. Tell me lies but hold me tight.
Save your good-byes for the morning light, but don’t let me be lonely tonight.

Say goodbye and say hello. Sure enough good to see you, but it’s time to go.
Don’t say yes but please don’t say no, I don’t want to be lonely tonight.

Go away then, damn you, go on and do as you please,
You ain’t gonna see me getting down on my knees.
I’m undecided, and your heart’s been divided, you’ve been turning my world upside down.

Do me wrong, do me right, right now, baby. Go on and tell me lies but hold me tight.
Save your good-byes for the morning light, morning light,
but don’t let me be lonely tonight.
I don’t want to be lonely tonight, no, no, I don’t want to be lonely tonight.

I don’t want to be lonely tonight.

James Taylor, 1972

Don’t let your loved one’s feel alone, sad or cold this New Year’s Eve.

Happy New Year!


Peace is proving to be one of the most endangered elements on our dear planet these days.
Why? Because instead of tolerance and patience, we are choosing to fight, ignore and blame each other.
Every day more of us become victims of extremism and violence. 

Peace, something the whole word is craving for at the moment. In a world like this, where seasons go by, loved one’s bid farewell and the innocent blood goes worthless- we need a break. To be more precise, we owe a lot to this world. Yet, we sit back and let it deteriorate gradually. Why?

Indifference is productive as long as things are not under one’s control but, when they are, why don’t we contribute some part?

This world is heading towards an unfathomable end. The earth weeps each day when a drop of innocent blood hits the ground. The Mother Nature- the trees, herbs, and shrubs, the mountains and seas; complain mankind for each wound Humans inflict upon them.

Pakistan is a third world country. Incompetent in a lot of areas, but illiteracy itself is not the factor behind it. Terrorism is at its peak in Pakistan. People have even forgotten what peace is like? In fact, we hardly remember when was the last time we witnessed peace in our country.

The one thing every culture, every artist, every tradition, every musician, every nation promotes is Peace. This world needs to focus on the significance of tolerance and peace because that is what transforms our decisions in the real world. We step according to the political stability, economic stability, finances etc. but most of all, if we see ourselves surrounded by components that invoke extremism or terror rather than peace and harmony, we are reluctant to take any decision. 

Unfortunately, it is not just about Pakistan but all other countries around the globe where roots of barbarism are spreading deeper and deeper. In this situation, at least we, the youth of Pakistan, need to pull in the reins and start working towards eliminating violence as much as possible. Be it through writing, workshops, processions or social media promotion. In a nutshell, peace has to prevail and the opposite has to be annihilated.

We are not perfect, we rely on our perceptions and studies to determine how we ‘SHOULD’ act, or how we CAN bring peace when what we really should be doing is looking at ourselves and how we can change our surroundings by changing OURSELVES. 

‘Gnothi Seauton’

(Greek) ‘Know Thyself’

Article by Beyond Sanity Publishing for Peace Without Borders

STOCKHOLM, Oct 13 (Reuters) – Bob Dylan, regarded as the voice of a generation for his influential songs from the 1960s onwards, has won the Nobel Prize for Literature in a surprise decision that made him the only singer-songwriter to win the award.

The 75-year-old Dylan – who won the prize for “having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition” – now finds himself in the company of Winston Churchill, Thomas Mann and Rudyard Kipling as Nobel laureates.

The announcement was met with gasps in Stockholm’s stately Royal Academy hall, followed – unusually – by some laughter.

Dylan’s songs, such as “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “The Times They Are a-Changin’,” “Subterranean Homesick Blues” and “Like a Rolling Stone” captured a spirit of rebellion, dissent and independence.

More than 50 years on, Dylan is still writing songs and is often on tour, performing his dense poetic lyrics, sung in a sometimes rasping voice that has been ridiculed by detractors.

Some lyrics have resonated for decades.

“Blowin’ in the Wind,” written in 1962, was considered one of the most eloquent folk songs of all time. “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” in which Dylan told Americans “your sons and your daughters are beyond your command,” was an anthem of the civil rights movement and Vietnam War protests.

Awarding the 8 million Swedish crown ($930,000) prize, the Swedish Academy said: “Dylan has the status of an icon. His influence on contemporary music is profound.”

Swedish Academy member Per Wastberg said: “He is probably the greatest living poet.”

Asked if he thought Dylan’s Nobel lecture – traditionally given by the laureate in Stockholm later in the year – would be a concert, replied: “Let’s hope so.”

Over the years, not everyone has agreed that Dylan was a poet of the first order. Novelist Norman Mailer countered: “If Dylan’s a poet, I’m a basketball player.”

Sara Danius, Permanent Secretary of the Nobel Academy, told a news conference there was “great unity” in the panel’s decision to give Dylan the prize.

Dylan has always been an enigmatic figure. He went into seclusion for months after a motorcycle crash in 1966, leading to stories that he had cracked under the pressure of his new celebrity.

He was born into a Jewish family but in the late 1970s converted to born-again Christianity and later said he followed no organized religion. At another point in his life, Dylan took up boxing.

Dylan’s spokesman, Elliott Mintz, declined immediate comment when reached by phone, citing the early hour in Los Angeles, where it was 3 a.m. at the time of the announcement. Dylan was due to give a concert in Las Vegas on Thursday evening.

Literature was the last of this year’s Nobel prizes to be awarded. The prize is named after dynamite inventor Alfred Nobel and has been awarded since 1901 for achievements in science, literature and peace in accordance with his will. 

Article by The Huffington Post. Read it Here

Come honey,
There is no good going to happen alone.
Together, we can live the disaster.
Alone its going to be a dreadful trauma.
Come love.
There is no light in these dungeons,
Together we can walk with our eyes closed.
Alone I stumble over my fears now and then.
Come sweetheart.
There is no sleep and no peace.
Together we can keep awake all night.
Alone my soul is paralyzed.
Or maybe you can stay where you are.
Whilst I dread about the omens.
And with the illusions and imagination
Or maybe you can let the potion of hate drowning my body.
Or you can live happily with joy and euphoria.
But there is no living here with me .
I mean you took away my life .
So you can come back my love and enjoy the frames of my miseries
Or you can put the rose at the tombstone and laugh away the pain.!

Areesh Fatmee For Beyond Sanity Publishing

In the time of intuitions, thoughts prevail over the matter of being while finality rests with one and only divine power. Jazla was a girl of streets of violence. She was the girl who dreamed to be the bride of a rich man.

“It is almost end of grain and no omelet could be made as a vehicle of soldiers who were on their ‘peace-round’ last day crushed the only hen we had, which egg would be quite enough for us.” Little Jazla was sleeping; whereas her mother Mariyam was thinking, sitting before the stove in the room. “Our daytime thoughts become our midnight dreams and our midnight dreams become our day time experiences.” She thought.

Jazla woke up suddenly and looked around. A small, feeble candle was lightening its surroundings and was about to end. Mariyam, two weeks ago brought a few small candles on her birthday. She also brought two pastries which she joined together and it became a handsome cake. Jazla was fond of celebrating her birthday and used to remind her mother a week before the birthday. Her father, Siraj Ahmed used to bring gifts for jazla. This birthday celebration was different as Siraj was not with them. Both Jazla and Mariyam were missing him and were shedding tears while recollecting the beautiful memories. She took jazla into her arms. It was a birthday celebration under the shadow of tears. Our smiles do not always contain happiness and joyous moments while we smile and laugh in the moments of happiness.

Jazla was looking at the candle consistently. The “tik-tik” of wall clock was louder than the scale which she used to hit on the floor while doing her homework. “I will go to the supermarket tomorrow to buy some bread and boiled potatoes to make our meal possible.” She thought. Her hen was crushed by the soldiers when they were on their peace-round. Jazla had a narrow escape and could only hear a laughter when she fell down. Her mother ran towards and took her inside and loved her to wipe out her tears. She had a bad experience last day.

In the streets of violence, love comes from the heavens but is snatched by the brutal forces of human hands. The streets of violence are the markets of cruelty where there is all day dealing with cries, smiles in cries and uncertain knockings with uncertain consequences. These are the places where there is a departure of arrivals and the arrival of departures. She slept under the shadow of thoughts.

“Jazi! Wake up… wake up my princess… look I have made a better breakfast this morning.” Mariyam called Jazla. She woke up and got ready for breakfast. “Mama!… what have you taken at breakfast?” Jazla asked her mother. “I made two breads and ate one when you were sleeping.” She replied with a smile. Jazla knew that grain was not enough for two breads and could make only one which she was eating that moment. She could not eat more. Her eyes were wet with tears. Mariyam took her into her arms and Jazla felt a terrible comfort that moment.
Our lies are sacred when they bring a special love that we already know to have but it gives a terrible comfort to our souls. Our tears are sacred when they spread a feeling of love. Sacred tears create oneness.

Her school was closed because of the war and everybody was limited to home these days. Siraj Ahmed was a hard working man and used to work in a workshop far from his home. He was a loving person and life had some meaning for him. He was always ready to help others, even if he himself was in trouble. One day he was coming back to home when he came across a fatal incident. He was shot dead two miles away from his hometown. Jazla was ten years old when Siraj Ahmed died. She used to raise hands in prayers when she saw her father praying to God. Jazla used to repeat the words of her father, “My Lord! The creator of universe! Save us from war, save our lives from brutal forces, save our children from their cruelties.” At that time she only knew about war but she was not aware of losing her father.

Today, after eight long years Jazla was getting ready for her engagement with a young feudal lord. “Our feudal lords are good enough to live in peace while the poor suffer from the horrible realities of brutality.” She thought. Mariyam often used to think that Jazla dreamed of getting married to a rich person. She also used to tell her stories about kings and queens to make her happy under the shadow of tears. When Mariyam was breathing her last, she asked Jazla to remember her whenever she would go to parties and in the joyous moments as she had also been a dreamer of these moments which her daughter was going to have.

Sitting in the groom’s vehicle Jazla murmured with tearful eyes “Mama, I would never forget you, you are the one who gave me love. I hate the moment when I could not go out to buy medicine, for you forbade me to go outside as my life was in danger”. One had to go when two were in danger.

Jazla met the young feudal lord in a wedding ceremony where she went with a lady who took care of her after her mother’s departure to heaven. Young feudal lord went against his family norms and married Jazla, daughter of Siraj Ahmed. Our love comes from those ways we never have expected. She never expected these moments rather she dreamed to be the bride of a rich man.

The vehicle moved and went on a new way, a new journey…

Our life consists of many phases, one after another. Life is not a bed of roses at all, rather it is a garden of thorns. People say, ‘where there are flowers, there are thorns’ yet life contains such phases where there are only thorns and where there bloom flowers.

Adeel Bin Javaid For Beyond Sanity Publishing

“Sarah, and at that moment, at that very precise moment he felt like he was thrown away into to the space with his soul ripped apart savagely. Backing away in fear, agony he slipped into vicious constellation of chaos, his past. And those terrible omens of death with their cunning cold burning auras sucked life out of the grey eyes. He was a terrible mess of was and is.”  Nathan’s voice broke. Closing his eyes tightly, he clenched his jaws tightly. He was playing with the miseries he had inside his brain. He was relating about the burns he had cloaked beneath the grave silence. There was a thick dust of time between the present and past. Hideous and terrible and loathsome. Taking a deep breath Nathan opened his eyes and looked at Sarah , she sat there frozen and broken. Her face , so pale and her lips closed tightly and her eyes, those hazel green eyes dimly lit. Tears trickling down her cheeks. Nathan nodded his head and began to speak slowly,” He kept waiting for you Sarah. You had to be there. Beside him, with him. It was never just him. It was about both of you. It was about the vow never to broken. It was not one soldier war. It was not Deans war alone Sarah. Why did you leave ? Just because he couldn’t get over the traumas he had to handle on his own? Just because he opened his heart to you ? It was his worst battle Sarah. I saw him ever fight. He was wounded, his soul was shredded. His grey eyes had long lost there shine. He was dead Sarah. He died the very day you left. He was a lump of flesh and bones just with a pouch of memories he had to fight with.” Nathan walked over to the chest of drawers with his hands in his pockets. Sarah had not spoken a word, she was crying silently. Her lips white. She looked as if someone had drenched all the blood out of her. Tears falling into her lap. She was apparently staring at her hands. But her mind was far away from her surroundings. She was at the Hudson Beach, she could hear herself saying how much she hated Dean, and how he stood there dumbstruck over her words. She heard Nathan’s voice in background.

“You see these letters Sarah ? All these letters he wrote to you but never posted. Just because he feared. Yeah, dean feared you. He feared the look in your eyes for him. He was paralysed over the words Sarah. And it took him years to recover and when he did, he had already left us. You know what he wrote in these letters? Not a single letter of how much hurt he was. Not a single phrase of mockery. Not a single statement of explanation. He just wrote… Sarah, all he wrote was how much alone he was… How  much he needed you beside him… in how much pain he was… “ Nathan jerked his head and turned around and hurried towards the window. He couldn’t control over his tears for long. With his hands over the sill of the window, he cried. Amidst the tears he began again,”  I saw my friend die in front of my eyes. I saw him laugh, smile and cry and whimper. I saw him dreading the agony and then living through it. I saw his laughter die away. I saw him in blood and bruises. I saw him ebrious and insomniac. I saw him bleeding and fainting. I saw him on his death bed. I saw his faintly opened grey eyes… I heard him Sarah. I watched him take my hand and speaking in his old husky voice. You know what he said?”  he swallowed a lump of tears.

Sarah lifted her head up, her face wet with tears and her eyes swollen with her hands over her lips.

“Promise me Nathan, you will never tell her about anything…she will hurt herself. Promise me Nathan, you wont for the sake of good old times…I know she will return one day…maybe with flowers in her hand and cranes to put on my grave.I had never been much of a friend for you Nathan… forgive me..”  Nathan sobbed harder and rubbed his eyes furiously and said,” and before i could promise him he left… he left me alone and went for the better place. I loved him like my brother but I couldn’t save him Sarah. I can never forgive myself for closing his eyes with my hands. I hate myself for putting him in his grave. I could have saved him. I could have… ” Nathan sank down exhausted onto the floor cushion. He threw his head in his hands and pulled his hair and wailed. And Sarah , her lips trembled and her eyes wide open with fear. She was shaking and she began to sob and whimper. She had flashbacks.

 Her face shining with tears, Dean wiping away the drops, holding her hands tightly.

 White dress, Cathedral, Vows, smiles. Candles, cakes, wishes.

Dean late night arrival, her voice shouting angrily , Dean bending down and giving her flowers.

Paris tours, miss calls, Dean excusing, Her voice complaining, dean coming with next flight, sick and exhausted. Making up her mood.

Dean fainting, hospital, reports, Dean hiding away the papers.

Sarah was shrieking loudly,” DEAN!!!! No!!!!!”

Hudson beach, i hate you dean. i just hate you. his pale face and trembling lips. backing away with fear. her anger, his fear.

Sarah wild with pain stood up and walked around crazily throwing away the vase and glass stands from the table. Nathan looked at her, she was a mess. Briskly rubbing his face and eyes hard he ran towards her.  She threw another glass at the floor and advanced to hit the table with her fists. Nathan reached and pulled her aside.

” What are you doing Sarah? Don’t do this!” Sarah pulled herself free from his grasp and threw herself over the glass table. The glass broke with a huge shatter as Sarah fell down on the marble.  Glass pierced in her arms and hands. She was bleeding badly. Nathan horrified, pushed her before she could pick up the fragments of glass and hurt herself.

“Listen to me Sarah. Dean has left. He’s gone. You are hurting him by doing this. Don’t do this to my friend.” shaking he pulled the glass piece from her arm but she was drenched in blood. She sat there staring at the open window with blank eyes.

Running over to the kitchen, Nathan looked over for the First Aid Box. He couldn’t hear the sobs and shrieks. There was all silence. Speedily returning to the lounge, he couldn’t see her on the floor neither she was on the sofa. Horrified he looked towards the window. She was there over the sill with the letters in her hands and a blend of mysticism and throes.

” SARAH!!!!!!! “ Nathan yelled his lungs out and ran blindly. But it was too late. She had jumped. Down… down … down…


There was a pool of blood around her crumpled body. Letters all around her body. Nathan fell down on his knees and picked up a paper floating in the blood.

yours forever.


and over the name was Sarah’s ring finger… the platinum band soaked in blood as the words engraved read,

“Avoir la foi, mon amour”


Areesh Fatmee For Beyond Sanity Publishing

We rode through the night bedecked by bliss of Boulevard and his mighty friend that’s attached to it immensely; The Dal Lake. She leaned on my back, clutching my torso, totally against the customs. We were the two outcasts, so magnetism bound us together; opposites attract. I set my bike parallel to the asphalt & the quiet one was unraveling her mind & my patience. I though have grown accustomed to the contemporary & have been known to accept it but she was a hard nut to crack. Anyhow, the bike was prompting, with all my frequent involuntary & reflexive breaking. She knew my ways & I knew her. She’d be quiet outside but inside “It is the clamors of sea, and rattling thunders.” as I recall her saying this to me once. She said if I was not strong enough to thrive into that storm, I better by a Nautilus. Now that I’m, she wasn’t ready to come but then she couldn’t resist my absence, so she gave in. To be honest, that rarely happens, I was just cherishing it altogether. I drove until the lights were more like phosphates & people were an unreal fantasy which potentially had not to exist there, it was my night out. At length, I found a platform etched above the lake. I found repose & that was my only appetite. I parked the vehicle and let the headlight open that’d reach across through us. I held her hand & walked to the ramp. She drew me close & put her arm through mine. “Step along my sun.” I said, metamorphosing her. My excitement was too much to explain, If I was burst that moment I’d be a rival of Big Bang. We sat down, crossing our legs. The water stood still & the eventual gusts would make us chilly, we embraced each other, as though world was conspiring. We looked into each other, smiling. Good heavens! I smiled like a clown. “So, why are we here? Night is my thing though, thank you.” she said gazing into the stars, wondering. “Farnoosh. You know it all too well, I’ve expressed my sublime love to you a thousand times over & you’ve been setting me up by staring & would nod away. You never say anything back, all you do is stare into my pupils. Four years back we met, two years back I was madly in love with you, in fact am. You’ve been through so much, we both have actually but we need to move up against the time & tide. Today you’ve to speak for me, for us, for our parents that are no more but would have wanted same for our sake.” I broke the silence of her clamors, her eyes were moist. I just stepped on a time bomb and this night was about to screw my future rationally. “Ishan, I’m not what I was two years back, after whatever happened I still have not been able to forget their passage. That wasn’t supposed to happen, that wasn’t…” she broke into tears & I couldn’t help mine from flowing, we just collapsed our shared strength to our stark past which was & remains to be drought & famine only. She stood up & climbed aboard & didn’t say anything. It was evident what she wanted; time. I had no time alas. I dived into the lake, not knowing if it was shallow. I heard her utter a cry, I heard faint protesting. I didn’t know how to swim. I managed to surface, from blurs to sharp edges, from cries to clear sentences. “Hush! I want to keep it real fast, it’s freezing. Two questions: Do you love me?” I asked, catching my breath. I could hardly breathe, the water was starting to numb me. “Yes you dumb-headed fool! I Do, come on it’s not heroic!” she said sobbing and laughing simultaneously. “Would you marry me for all the right reasons?” I asked almost drowning. “Okay yes, now come on up, please.” She was getting serious, it was the right time to strike again. “I don’t know what okay yes is, say yes I’d marry you!” I pressed. “Yes I’ll marry you, damn I’ll. Now let me help you up.” I reached for her hand & climbed up. Not letting her talk I jammed her lips upfront before I be a victim of her tantrums, anyhow perhaps the storm was placid. It breached through our eyes.

Ubair Fayaz Fazili for Beyond Sanity Publishing