Reset Button

August 2nd, 2018 / 3:30 PM

Everyone at old age wants to become young again. There is a price of being young. The price of experiencing the same things including troubles and pain and learning from these experiences. After realizing the actual price of starting life over again, many might not want to press the reset button. It is not easy to give everything up and face the same tortures and the same monsters for another time. Nobody wants to die twice just to be in the same heaven.
Changing one’s primary method of communication to a newer bridge is not comfortable. It surely has the same price. Without a doubt, the advantage is as enormous as the hardship. I waited for almost 15 minutes in the hall before this realization hit me. I gave up the idea of creating a new Rome. I can live with the monster but I don’t have both the stamina and the courage to get a new number again and start the communication of life from the beginning. I cannot press the reset button. I guess that’s why a lot of men do not develop the same spark once they get married. The newer attractions live only in the cages of flings and attractions. They opt for such comforting and easier adventures instead of falling into a pit that has fewer chances of coming out ever again. So let’s not press that button. Let’s never press that button.


Never. 

The Skin Of A Woman

July 28th, 2018 / 10:55 AM

I peeled the skin of a woman out of curiosity. Under the layer was a truer being. The monster who used to looked good. Undoubtedly, with the charms of those appearances, there would be many fools of men the monster would have pulled and swallowed. A monster, however, lives inside me too. It is neither as charming nor as ugly as hers. It’s the monster under my skin who saw her broken skin. Curiosity made him have a peek. In the end, it was frightened but content. Its hunch was right. The ugly monster is still alive. I guess it takes a monster to know a monster.

First of July

July 1st, 2018 / 4:24 AM
It’s someone’s birthday. Every day is someone’s birthday. So is today. We spent a good time together. A golden time perhaps. Only if that could be re-lived. I cannot overlook a question. Will any of us forget and forgive if we relive it? I fail to reach any answer when I realize that I have not forgotten anything even today. It is being very unwise of me. A fool here. I have no idea of the other side. If anyone comes to see my end, they will find my side of the bridge intact. Maybe the other end is intact too. Yet the bridge fell. It is another question that keeps peaceful sleep and harmony at bay. We once talked about life and the afterlife and decided that the one who outlives the other should tell the next generation of ours about how many years we stayed in each other’s lives. I believe that silence is not absence. It never is. Has God ever talked to us? Yet when we pray, we believe that he is there. This example does not apply to those who don’t believe in a God. The number of years we talked is now less than the number of years we haven’t. I wish the wiser of us was more wiser. It is the first of July. I wish happiness for the other end of the bridge, even if it has fallen. 

 

June 10th, 2018 / 00:31 AM

نہ باز آئے یہ لُو اور نہ تن سے جاں نکلے

بجائے زمزمہ بیرونِ لب زباں نکلے

 

ہمیں بہار کے ہونٹوں کی نرمیوں کے امیں

ہمیں وہ برگ کہ پیغمبرِ خزاں نکلے

 

جہاں گلاب سخن کے سجائے تھے ہم نے

شرر بھی کچھ اُنہی حرفوں کے درمیان نکلے

 

زخستگی لبِ اظہار کا تو ذکر ہی کیا

کشش سے جیسے قلم کی بھی اب دھواں نکلے

 

ہمارا حال جبیں سے ہی جاننا اچھا

زباں سے کیا کوئی اب کلمۂ گراں نکلے

 

حضورِ یار ہیں وہ جاں سپار ہم ماجدؔ

ہو حکمِ قتل بھی اپنا تو منہ سے ہاں نکلے

بھولی باتیں

June 8th, 2018 / 02:42 AM 

اپنی ڈائری میں لکھی ہوئی کچھ باتیں دوبارہ پڑھیں تو بہت حیرت ہوئی. مجھے کچھ یاد نہیں کہ یہ سب میں نے کب لکھا .لیکن جوں جوں ایک ایک لفظ میری آنکھوں کے سامنے سے گزرا ہر پرانی چیزتازہ ہوگی. لوگوں کی کی ہوئی مہربانیاں بھی. اور دوستوں کی کی ہوئی نا انصافیاں بھی . نہ جانے میں نے یہ سب کب لکھا . اتنی پرانی باتیں پڑھ کر لگتا ہے کہ شاید وہ کوئی دوسری زندگی تھی. لیکن میں تو تب بھی میں ہی تھا

Doppelgänger

June 3rd, 2018 / 7:14 PM

I had been reading some older writings that although I want to push here, this effort to digitize older creations cannot be achieved without the mentioning of those people that defined life. With time some people become too irrelevant to not even think about, let alone write anything about them. I faced the dilemma when left with only two possible solutions. Either to drop those posts completely which mention those now-unworthy folks. Or to give them alternative names. Both of these solutions have an advantage and a bigger disadvantage. Dropping the posts kills the purpose of the idea in the first place. And if I give every person a new name, it will become very hard to remember who became who. Besides, it slows down the thought process bringing it to a snail pace. That is when a very remarkable solution lit up like a beacon.
Doppelgängers.
Everyone who left a mark on life in any way bears resemblance to someone popular like a movie star. Thankfully most, if not all of the exes have a doppelgänger. One has such a striking similarity to a pornstar. The problem looks solved already. An adult performer who bore a resemblance with an ex took her own life in the December of 2017. Many have already forgotten her. Now, whenever I see that ex, the face of that dead performer pops up. I guess it is not easy to be a doppelgänger. Whom do you bear resemblance to?

  

301

June 2nd, 2018 / 6:51 PM
These days of Ramadan are riddled with hot and unbearably long days. These fasts are not for the faint of the heart. In this life, I don’t have the perks to take an entire week off. Still, I am VERY happy with this path of life instead of the other side. After waking up, I either have too little energy to write anything down. I feel falling short on finishing the books and graphic novels that I started. This is my 301st post that I intended to publish. I spent last week reading old parchments and collecting them all in a workflow to push them here. Internet is where I hope they outlive my biological life and their paper life. Some scribbles have become irrelevant. Some are too personal. Some are broken. Some trigger regrets. This is the price of nostalgia. It brings not only the happy feelings. This isn’t the first post that I have pushed today. Work is happening since the first of Ramadan. I hope to get this done soon. I want to place my diaries back in the locker as soon as I can. But as I look back into the older days, a time machine states to work. Three weeks of collecting notes and newspapers (for visual additions along posts) while having long summer fasts is no easy task. Reading old time is reliving in a way. You can live the same day for more than once, only if it is better documented.

Laziness

May 1st, 2018 01:39 PM

Yes, I am lazy. And at times, very. That doesn’t dampen the ideas nor the wishes. There is no sin in dreaming anything and no punishment in wishing even something nefarious UNTIL one gets to live with the consequences. That is one privilege of the faith I was born into. The three hundred milestone of unrefined, crude, unpolished writings to post lay before me, along with the day’s work. Also, I have to watch ANON on Netflix too. And then I need to contemplate about keeping a beautiful secretary with hazel eyes and curly hair and the right amount of fat only at the right places who types what I dictate to her. There is no harm in dreaming even when sinister and judgmental humans walk everywhere only to judge and only to stalk.

Unplugged

April 14th, 2018 / 07:38 AM

It is not easy to keep an eye on someone. It is expensive and gets even more expensive as time passes. We all have our reasons, some nasty and some genuine, to keep an eye on someone. A mother keeps her eye on her children. We know why she does so but why would a clingy ex keep an eye on someone. Years ago I was searching for a place to post writings at. I came across a service that allowed posting using SMS. That service was Twitter. Over the years I found myself in a love-hate relationship with it. Eventually, I stopped using it some years ago for which I had my reasons. Luckily, a few of them are now married. Still, marriage is no guarantee to not keep an eye on someone. It itself brings a heap of responsibilities that everybody is not able to carry. It explains some of the reasons which at their core are still the same while their appearances have become motherly.

I made a new Twitter ID that was anonymous. My primary intent was to interact with new people because at times I needed new people to talk to and the only new people that I was talking to in those days were the patients. The hospital environment is no party. I used to think that a social space like Twitter however is, to some extent at least. Twitter has become a swimming pool of shit and piss but it is full of random people. That absolute random talk exists there. Even if one doesn’t want to join them, one can be a silent observer and witness a conversation fold out. I thought that if I had a new ID, that would serve as a mask. The anonymity would help me vent energy to learn something new. Even today I don’t think that what I did was religiously, morally, culturally, or socially wrong. You can be anyone on the internet. I once became a Muslim Vampire. It was short-lived. But it wasn’t wrong. The vampire did not hurt anyone. It could not be as wrong as keeping an eye on someone especially after the person you are keeping an eye on is no longer relevant to you. Maybe some people have no good left in their lives. Somehow two once-amazing ladies found out that it was me who was behind that ID. It is true that I always felt genes of a sniffer inside them but I thought that they were in lesser amount. Boy, I was wrong. 

It was not my first attempt at making an anonymous ID and using that as a mask of anonymity to interact with people. In 2017 I made one more attempt at a new online life. That made my total number of attempts reach five. Out of these five, only twice was I wearing the persona of a girl. Every time I was behind an avatar of a girl, I thought that it logically ruled me out of the possibility that someone would think that it was me. In heels and mascara, I followed boys. I stayed kind to a few of them. I became harsh to a few of them. I lured a few to their untimely regrets. One positive aspect of it was the growing number of screenshots that I took and have saved even to this date. All those screenshots were no less than inspiration for dialogues and for stories that I created at a later time. The dilemma was that I was not a girl on the inside which is why those accounts became stagnant very soon and died eventually.

One of the clingy ladies found out about one of those IDs too. Twitter’s algorithm works in some crazy way and brings disasters to the front seats. In those days I used to draw pictures after coming back from the hospital. That is why I took the mask of an illustrator in made my second last anonymous ID. But even that adventure was also short-lived. 

I know that she knows that Aamir is aware of her knowledge of Aamir’s anonymous account.

I know that she knows that Aamir is aware of her knowledge that why Aamir doesn’t use that ID anymore.

I confess that I started liking that illustrator’s identity because the main fuel for it was those pictures that I used to draw on paper and later as digital drawings. An interesting thing happened afterward. A girl interacted who allegedly lived in Rawalpindi. I never asked her what she did but she used to interact liking almost every tweet that I posted. And one day we had an interaction beyond just liking the tweets. It was like any other harmless interaction that happens on Twitter. Harmless and halal for any curious mind. The interactions never grew beyond a certain point. Then one day she asked me to draw a picture of hers like my other drawings. Even at that point, I had not told her anything about the real me. She had no idea who the actual person was behind that account. This is what I used to believe. I was wrong. Very wrong. Because later on the account of that girl ceased to exist. And even before I had started drawing her, I came to the realization that the account I was to draw a picture of never belong to a real person. The same strong feeling exists even today. That ID that interacted with my anonymous ID of illustrator was one of the many sleeper probes the two clingy women have developed over the years. My tweets kept coming after that event but something was changed. The digital existence seemed liked an emotionless space I was swimming through waiting to get fished.

The last and the final attempt that I made of living an unknown being occurred in the February of 2018. So far nobody has either claimed of discovering me or any ripples are created from my tweets. Such ripples eventually reach me and make me realize the leaks that exist. What can Aamir possibly talk about? Poetry, books, medicine, painting, movies, graphic novels, nostalgia, Punjabi music, and flirting. He would never talk about Chinese food, artificial jewelry, cruel in-laws, and political Gods. These are a few things that the sleepers use to make wild but good guesses. Very intelligent guesses. They cannot guess anymore now. A win for them is a loss too. 

Today marks the day when I have closed all the accounts that I have operated in other names. Each one of them except for my original account has been shut down. I am a lazy soul. I intend to start posting over the original account soon. But what the stalkers would guess about now? The memoirs channels @LahoreDiaries and original ones @AamirBilal @AamirAliBilal live on. I still visit my old town from time to time and see a few familiar faces who have changed with the time that has shown its colors on them. But on the inside, they are still the same.

Some sadist.

Some hopeless.

And some are still emitting only negative energy because that is the only energy they have.

It fills me with extreme happiness that an ID that I had been using since 2010 has crossed 70000 posts. I write down very honest feelings there. It is like a notebook. I didn’t expect that one day it would grow to this milestone. We know that diaries can be lost or stolen and as I had lost diaries in the past, that is why I am extremely careful with this one. I have already downloaded and printed a copy of all the tweets that I have posted on the ID from as early as 2010. I have zero following and zero followers and 70058 tweets as of this writing. 

A part of me still loves Twitter but that part of me is very afraid of what Twitter has created and also of what Twitter the people have created now. 

There are some decisions in life for which I always applauded myself. And keeping a lock on my oldest Twitter account is one of those decisions. There only I myself keep an eye on myself and it is not expensive either.

All the leaks are closed. 

Dark Day

March 22nd, 2018 / 11:45 PM / Karachi

This is another dark day. No I am not an Anti-Nationalist. It fills my heart with deep sorrow that another loving face is no more. We always fail to see the beauty we enjoy when all our loved ones are with us but when they are no more we miss the time we spent together. So instead of being thankless, be thankful and enjoy the moments which once gone no wealth and power can bring back. May the soul rest in peace and has a bright hereafter. Amen.