By Saba Noor (1st Yr)
What should I tell all these people?? Will they believe the story behind me changing black ink to bright red one in my pen?It is just a teifle for them. But for me, it is something around which my ideas, my thoughts, my fantasy, my pages, my pen circumambulates because its me, only me who understands this magic, who knows.."Who was the sorcerer?"
I was a writer. What a writer I was! Writing black stories in black ink at black time on white papers of life. I was a black writer. I had a market opened around me where I would buy sorrows and price was so high. The price was my HAPPINESS. I had made life hard sitting on a "still" swing in my backyard. You, from somewhere, came out and tossed the swing. Oh! There I was flying in cool breeze...the breeze making me forget hard parts of life, longing to talk about softer one. I loved to write about gloomy sky before rain. And you made me look at bright sky after rain.Your little magic working on me, overpowering the mammoth dark cloud....You remember, I had such a touchy story, written out of wrinkles of an old lady. A story that would surely have made every reader cry. And there you were...telling me to look into ryes of the old lady and scribble about dreams in them. I did write a story and it made every reader smile....!!
Positive...How could I believe in this word when I was in doubt about positivity itself. I was walking with these doubts on a doubtful journey choosing a doubtful road leading to a doubtful destination. In this foggy life of mine, you came..with no doubt but clear and positive. I condemned the rocks as hurdles.You complimented them as touchstones. I feared the night.You enjoyed the yet to come morning. I offered to narrate the story of the dooming sun.You were persistent to hear the story of rising sun. I wondered what was across the wild river.You chose to sit on the river-side we had. I was after fallen star and you were looking at shimmering moon still hanging in the murky sky..!!!!
Ah! i had my ink wasted in composition of monody of those who were gone, of the drum stick that was broken, of the colors that faded, of the life that had been so cruel, so harsh. I had volumes written in pathos of the things, you would call "wastage of pearl-like tears."
Then you came making me turn to people present around me. You told me that what if the drumstick had broken, the drum was still there. In short,you became topic of my poem,a topic that coloured my ink, my papers, my ideas, my thoughts and ultimately me...!!!
Then you came making me turn to people present around me. You told me that what if the drumstick had broken, the drum was still there. In short,you became topic of my poem,a topic that coloured my ink, my papers, my ideas, my thoughts and ultimately me...!!!
Fear is fear. Joy is joy. But fear adhered to joy is disastrous. My joy to touch the sky and my fear to fall down. My joy to dance and my fear of unknown sadness. My joy to love,my fear of undone hatred. My joy to sing, my fear of unheard wail. I was walking hand in hand with joy and fear, with yes and no, with positivity and negativity, with day and night,with pessimism and optimism.You came, simply taking place of every thing that was pessimistic...!!!
Here,on 25th Feb I am writing about you...not just you but about all the smiles we preferred over the tears, about days we once enjoyed and nights we ignored, about rainbow we once watched and gales we never cared about....!!!
O! Someone has just entered the class room.Someone who seems to be you with his gait, manner of sitting. I have my gaze lowered down, bore to ground. I am not going to rise up to check because you know you will be nowhere. I am giung to sit the way I am, imagining the stranger to be you. I know I am being foolish, searching foe smile though its nowhere. But its better to be foolish than to be sad. You remember...that's what you taught me. That's what I learned from you...to live with your memories, with OPTIMISM YOU GAVE ME...!!!!
Saba Noor MBBS 1st year KEMU.