Saturday, 20 December 2014

Yearning for water

Eyes are opened suddenly as the stiff muscles have rested a lot now. It’s time for a new journey today and the eyes stuck on the trees that are playing football. They came so close to each other but never touched; they lack the Balochi artistic tricks may be. The weather has changed; a new season has arrived. The bench awaits your attention. But as soon as you look up to the sun you find that it has some dark traces on it. And suddenly you look down and find your shirt has prints of a monster’s fingers as if they were cut and are now lying on your shirt, some monster was so hungry today that he has left remains of his crimes on your shirt. As if a human has butchered the purple chicken today. Someone comes near you, and spreads their long wings across you. He climbs on your shoulder, you were afraid but he wasn’t. You share some moments with him but he goes away. The sky is decorated with beautiful colors. The creature returns and marches towards you, his mouth holds a string which was knotted to a colorful kite.
You believed that you had wings and mounted to the ninth sky, but his mouth leaves the string the kite leaves you and went to the air to which it belongs. The creature flew and came back but when he landed, he exploded, the wings seemed to slap you and your face was bombarded left to right. With his beak he attacked your heart and the blood seemed to run through the streets. The air sacs seemed to stop; the kidney was soon going to fail. What’s your heart’s wish now? Are there any heart beats? Does your heart mingle as it mingled all the years? The veins have no strength to force out a decision. Soil awaits your welcome; the mob has started to gather around you as if Caesar has been betrayed again by Brutus. “Life is not all about adventures but everyone presume it to be a play being enacted”
Brutus leaves you by sounding his victory loud and left this one night stand to greet his friends. Your calf muscles have no more strength to stand now and you fall on the ground as a person falls to prayers when all eyes stab him. The joy flashes back on the sky, but there is no sign of God, the red book has been filled up and now the dust needs to be encountered.  A loud sound echoes “Welcome to the firehouse, your seat was booked months ago. A boat with wheels stop near you, your bed has been ready come with us, a sound echoes. Say the last words, people mourn and shed crocodile tears for you. But do you really need them, your wrist watch is out of station now and you can’t repair all these tears now. Your car can’t travel anymore now, the wheels have been punctured to death now and even the Sher Shah market can’t replace the wheels.
The stretcher on the boat will take you to a Police Station where the DIG awaits your presence and no phone call would lessen the brutal punishment. Did you attend the voice message of God which rang daily? Did that voice echo peace in your body? No your body shivered by musician’s melody. Will that peace help now? Does KFC have an offer to supply food underground?  God’s love bells didn’t bring the peace to you and women, charms and power became your sole treasure. The message of God never flashes back in your mind and women always did. You buried the Islamiat book the day you passed the paper with flying colors. But will those colors portray the shades of a perfect painting. Your tub is ready and today the water is red, dropping all over your body. The eyes seem to be closing; the body has relaxed on the world’s best foam. The eyes closed and they will be ripped off your body and given to the blind that can see the beauty of God, mosques and lines of Quran which you never saw.
But the clock has stopped now. The Eagle has killed you and you are lying on the bed now that will take you to your last journey. You made evil your friend and never crossed the road of friendship which awaits your welcome always.

                                    “Life is a timeless creature, live up to its full extent”

Saturday, 29 November 2014


The muscles seems to be burning and when it starts to melt it get the right words, have been under the shade of moon a lot of times. Looking at it as if a movie is being played there, the drop has started to build up into the eyes and has become a massive force to drain the entire world in it like Nelofar storm was to kill all the in-human beings. The bones have become a skeleton but the vein is still measuring redness. The lips want to utter something but the teeth’s have become a protective layer bounding the tongue not to move hence any sound could be uttered, so no words.

But suddenly the body is shaken by a force it moves someone has switched on the light, life is still there and the smell of breath enlightens the atmosphere. All the boundaries have been broken, the teeth couldn’t stop the force coming from the vocal tracts and there is a shrilled sound “It’s there it’s there” but in broken pieces. So let the cement be mingled with the water again and a better material should be used this time. So that the building remains there for years and nothing could terrorize it.

But suddenly the building collapsed “Karachi Building Authority is responsible for this loss will be the headline tomorrow” as the muscles became ashes.

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Lines from "My Feudal Lord"

"Your wife is your best ambassador"

Don't try to be Tehmina"

"My white cotton would not be a mere symbolic gesture, it was the culmination of a long and painful process of self discovery"

"Two swords could not be accommodated in one scabbard"

"It is easier to wash the dishes in your husband's home than in the world outside"

Most amazing book I have  read in recent times.It has a different taste. Thank You Jawaria Baji for making my eyes see the bitter truths of the wives of these so called Politicians.

Monday, 29 September 2014


The sun, being the conqueror of the sky with all the beauty under its feet, isn’t spreading its full light today. It stands barren today. The sea has lost the words to claim its superiority; the waves are just strengthening forward but in seconds lose its earthly power. As if a ‘war’ has been declared. The shore is thirsty for the drops of water. The birds are waiting at the shore to get soaked in water and relive their lives. Their wings don’t seem to spread; if they do, they could haunt the enemy in the middle of the sea, liquefying it with blood. But does the sea cry over this monstrous incident? Even when there is no one to cheer for its beauty, it cheers when it stands in the middle of an uncertain reaction of the sand and coal.

There is a shrill sound of wood; someone has pushed it to let the smoke of unusual thoughts out. I am usually mesmerized by the beauty of this world; it feels as if the beauty has something to say. It wants to come out but fails to get the attention. I stand on my feet, there is no strength but I have to, it’s time to adventure fresh blood. The calf muscles somehow contracted but I stood up on the ground, when I walked, my feet felt the coldness of the floor. Even the tiles had a better sleep last night. ‘It’s the devil whose eyes never spread the freshness’. As I walked pass the mirror in my room, I felt as if someone was behind me, but I kept walking and left the room with the door open so that all my angels can go somewhere else. It won’t work here. My friends are cheering upstairs; they need food, as I have taught them every utterance. Their sounds early in the morning may make them villains in the ears of others but they are my heroes. People may have weird alarm tones but mine is always the whistle of my parrots, the cooing of my pigeons. Feeding my birds is my first task. I am not a good cook but I know how to provide vitamins to every creature. My pigeons can sense their freedom when they hear the floor beating up heavily, and when the fingers unlock the gaol, the birds are free. The pigeons are out; they sit on my shoulders and then are spread in every nook and corner. I have four of them and I have especial names for them. The number sort of reflects my inner world. When they walk it appears as if they are chanting the freedom song, their melody might be noise for someone but for me it is a language of peace. You never want to be out of that scene but you have to, it’s like a soldier being transferred to various deserts no matter how much he loves that particular atmosphere. I haven’t washed my eyes yet they see all the beauty which enters through my window. And then this freedom march of my army. I rushed downstairs, someone has called me. In between I have splashed water on my face and every drop made me feel as if my face was burning. I felt like “Meri Aawaz Main Awaz Kiss Ki Bolti Hai, Mere Geeton ko Geeton Ka Kinara Kaun De Ga” And then I decided to meet my companions with a pen and paper. The burning effect made me realize how a woman feels when some monster throws acid on their beauty.

The two-star man gets ready for his daily haunt. A jeep outside the house is waiting for him but Zunaira needs to get ready as well since Daddy never leaves without his Princes. I never get the chance to say goodbye to Dad as I was a humpty Dumpty child for whom the walls of school weren't open yet, so I was jealous of Zunaira, but she always kisses my face before leaving for school. Although I was awake, I compellingly kept my eyes closed when I sense her coming and after sharing the sweetness, she would say "ati you are good actor". And when she walks towards the door, I stand up on the bed like 'Mandela' and claim my medal that "Mother loves me more than Dad loves his star". Just then mother appears, her smile is that effective weapon which even 'Pope would claim that every spirit should protect'. The smile had already injured a soldier on their first meeting: Dad and Mom are two people, one soul now. She tries to get her Humpty dumpty off the bed, but I always enjoy getting extra love so I disturb her by not getting up, moving on the whole bed, hiding myself under the blanket. And when the blanket is forcefully taken off, I act like a "lost soldier". Then I get that extra love: mother hugs me, combs my hair and selects the best clothes for the day. Mother taught me 'one should always be ready for the occasion'. Her next task is to get her son some health with breakfast, after that she leaves me with the colors. I always paint my thoughts, although the drawings are not perfect, 'I am just five', how can they be but Zunaira always appreciated them.

In 1999 Pakistan’s great thinkers revolted, groups were created, the Corps Commander meeting resulted in outburst of ‘saving the youngest prisoner’. Pakistani Nation witnessed the power shift from moneymakers and feudal lords to the ‘sons of Ayub, Yahya and Zia’, with a promise that within few days the nation would be a heaven. It was just as ‘Yazid had justified his brutal murder of Hazrat Imam Hussain’.

It was raining and when it rains the whole Punjab is drenched like ‘a weak vessel’. I always love the rain. It is a bright Sunday, so today I have my partner Zunaira as well. I remember the cheerful voice of Zunaira when she sings. We heard the voice of an engine going to rest and sensed that Dad has arrived. We rushed towards the tubs but I slipped twice because of my humpty dumpty shape. With the marks of crime left on my knees, I bring guilt to Zunaira’s face when Dad scorns her. ‘Never leave any traces of redness on your body when you cross the borders’.
Dad looks a bit tensed as he announces that we have to pack our bags as the soil calls for its commander. Mom quickly packs our entire luggage, I felt bad for Zunaira who couldn’t start her college here. But feel happier that since it would be another world, Zunaira won’t start up all at once; she would spend more time with us. Thus, I would learn new tricks to defeat her and be the real revolutionary.
‘Great people to fly with’ is our new transport and we left our ‘Chaudry House’ for a new heaven. I couldn’t correctly utter when Dad announced that our new spot is Afghanistan so I always utter it by using long syllables.

Civil war has been erupted in Afghanistan since 1996; it is the conflict between two parties: the United Front and the Post Moderated Mullahs. The weapons captured the beautiful city of Kabul and installed their religious democracy with a supreme commander. The city within days came under brutal abuse of power and personal courts were installed. It resulted in amputations against people, within seconds people were brutally beaten-up. The freedom was being snatched and everything was ordered to be under veil. ‘Force can’t be stationed without the strength in the muscles and the strength was being fueled by the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, Iran and Saudi Arabia.

The two-star man, this time in his Khaki Shalwar Kameez, along with his family lands at the International Airport Kabul, where four people await their arrival. From the airport we have been taken to the luxurious Marriot hotel. Within days, a new home welcomes us. Dad has left his uniform and the stars in ‘Chaudry House’ and now he wears three-piece suits. I have noticed a change in the two-star man, now his fingers always hold a cigar and since he was not use to of smoking, he usually falls ill early. I had never seen him smoking on our soil, maybe he is assigned to a new task in which smoking is mandatory. ‘The soldiers always follow their master’s word’. I and Zunaira made new friends within days but the dialects differ. Only then I came to know that there are millions of dialects in the world. It’s not always English.

In an unusual Corps Commander Meeting in October 1998, the head of the army decided to provide financial and military support to the religious democracy in Afghanistan, Rana was upheld with the task along with Butt, Gul and Tarar. To strengthen the shoulders of Talibans, they sent over 28, 000 khaki soldiers to Afghanistan with Tarar as the master of their destinies. The soldiers were unaware of where they were heading to. It was a secret plan even the civilian government was unaware of it. The khaki people were stationed in different areas of Afghanistan, some even in madarsas so that United Front’s men do not recognize them. The force was sent to weaken United Front’s arms. But it all ended in ‘Kalashnikov culture’ in Pakistan. It appeared to be a great plan of the foreign powers ‘divide and rule’ as the Afghans were undefeatable, thus it became an essential part of the great plan to start a civil war in Afghanistan so that ‘the blood does not find its traces in foreign hands but in natives’ thirst’.

It is a bright sunny Sunday, the weather in ‘Chaudry house’ and Kabul is totally different, here the air seemed to be entrapped in a cage so when it bursts, it blows up with the soil, asking the soil to stand up for its freedom and show the real power. That day unexpected guests ring our doorbell; I stand up to open the door. By their physical appearance I could only guess they were ‘white people’, unaware of the terms like French, Russian or Americans. ‘It was generally thought after the post war 1857 period that a house was named traitor when it had white guests’. They inquire about the two-star man and gifted me with chocolates; sometimes I get so happy with a mere thing that I just sleep with it. Later that day, on waking up, I find my gifts are missing. I show my dissatisfaction but mother and Zunaira come forward and say “Papa won’t like that”. ‘It’s always better to play with your own toys. While I am playing with the fax machine, suddenly Dad comes in to check on a fax; it was from Corps Commander Karachi. Soon afterwards I hear Dad getting angry with someone on the phone call. I have never seen Dad like that. I inquire about it from Mother and Zunaira but none seems to answer. That night we have been invited by the US embassy. I have to dress like Papa today, three-piece suit with a tie. And I don’t like the tie because I do not know how to wear it. Mother knot the tie to the collar, it feels like my neck has been locked up, the oxygen not passing through and I would die within seconds but just then Zunaira comes and loosen up the tie a bit so that my neck feels the freedom to move and I could breathe properly. That night I dance with a white woman, though she was an ‘Eiffel tower’ figure to me but I manage to jump on the table and stand there to dance. Several men have encircled Papa and they are basically talking about the political situation in Afghanistan.

A car stopped by our home, the situation of Afghanistan has gone worst and there was blood and blood in every lane. The phone rings, Papa was out; the two-star man has a meeting with a civilian member of the government today. On the phone is Governor of Sindh, an ex-cop who is a close friend of Dad, first Zunaira talked and then Mother. When Papa returns, he quarrels with mother, the real plan was out now. This is not our land or any battlefield. ‘A soldier should be sent to a battlefield where he shows his real strength not to a barren place where he has no gain but blood’.

In the 1998 Corps Meeting, it was decided that along with Rana, a khaki soldier should be sent as well whose identity won’t be revealed and the best way to do it was to send the soldier with his family. ‘A soldier fights the enemy not his family’. That two-star man had been chosen for this act along with a female social worker, fifteen year old girl and a six year old boy. The best way to fit in a strange place was to enroll a new identity to these people and the cigar phenomena was evolved. The mission was to negotiate with the Afghan people, religious democrats and United Front bodies. Financial Aid and their plans was the key of this non-state actor.

February 1999, the Taliban and United Front’s forces clashes spread in every nook and corner. Masood’s people came to know of the shoulders of religious democracy. Masood went to US embassy and revealed the plan, the Americans found it the right time to spark the fire for the civil war and start the thirst for one’s blood. In that meeting Masood called the Prime minister’s house in Islamabad which was unaware of the plan. Foreign Minister was sent to negotiate with United Front’s leader and Supreme Commander. Meanwhile the Corps Commander Karachi and the Governor became active for a safe exist of the two-star man because now his identity had been leaked out, that he was patrolling the religious democracy. But whether he was or not remains a question in the files of GHQ.

            Several shots of fire are heard and Dad has been outside after the quarrel with mother, within seconds all rush towards the main entrance, meanwhile I contact the Pakistan Embassy, but the Afghan national anthem has already burst out This land will shine forever, like the sun in the blue sky, in the chest of Asia ‘but today traces of blood have been spread on the sky, there is a body lying on the globe of Asia’. Zunaira cries out loud that evils have killed our father. But before I can even drop the phone, they pick mother and sister as well with them. And I only saw those culprits’ half-covered faces with a handkerchief (rumal) and their eyes filled with hatred.

The tears do not seem to come out at once; a burning process starts as if a coal is burning in my chest and sparks a fire in the whole body. I stop writing and try to have some food, the kitchen welcomes me and I eat what my neighbors have offered me. One day a girl asked me,
‘Do you eat Chinese?’
She was shocked to hear my answer that I have never tasted it, may be my neighbors are from Iran who can’t cook it. My next task is to read something, this time it is Faiz who won my pleasure. He entertains me with utmost enjoyment. It is night now, I have to sleep but my eyes do not seem to close, I keep looking through my window and think ‘does the water ever sleeps? It keeps roaring all the night although how alone it is.’ They say that the devils never sleep but it’s the angels whose eyes don’t close.

A newspaper headline stated on 19th February, 1999 that “The two women which were kidnapped were brutally killed. Pakistani Embassy receives their bodies’. Foreign Minister in Pakistan issued a press release that the three bodies recently found in Afghanistan belong to Pakistan. A detailed story was published in the leading newspapers of Afghanistan that ‘Supreme Commander’s right hand killed by United Front’s men’. The International media reported that in February 1999, ISI’s boy made a secret save passage for the Al-Qaeda leader. While the corners of GHQ were worried about the lost genetic print of the two-star soldier: ‘the humpty dumpty boy’ who was missing.

Within thirty minutes, the Afghan police arrive, handicap the humpty dumpty boy and take the body of the two-star man in an ambulance. I am in great shock, meanwhile the local police inquires about me. I know nothing of what is my identity; I only utter the word Pakistan. And they label my father a spy. Only years later I come to know what actually spy means, initially I believed it was a term used for the two-star ranks in army. ‘In an age where children are given books and toys, I was locked up in gaol’ being the youngest prisoner. Only later on Mullah’s words his Jihadi soldier made my secret release: I was transported to Daruntal then to Jalalabad and later crossing the Torkham border reached Khyber Agency, to my soil Pakistan with H. Mehsood. ‘In an age when children should go to school, I was crossing borders’. Here I am informed that my mother and Zunaira were also killed. And when I reach the ‘Chaudry House’, I see three bodies awaiting me. Usmani hugs me and takes me to the ground where Guard of Honor is being presented to the two-star man. Several soldiers standing in a row fire black cartridges thrice in the air; Pakistani flag is wrapped over the coffin. And everyone salutes the dead man. Within seconds I bury three bodies with my little hands. ‘In an age where children hold the fingers of their father and mother, I was burying them’.

Corps Commander Karachi in a meeting revealed that my father was assigned to a special mission: to assist and lead the troops sent in Afghanistan. Shah’s men came to know of it and in order to take revenge; they killed my father, mother and Zunaira. Foreign Minister was informed by the US Embassy but he didn’t take any safety measures. In a secret meeting, years later, Usmani told me the army was equally aware that their plan had leaked out but in order to put it behind the bars, they couldn’t just help at the right moment. But he mentioned the murder of these three people was put up as the first charge, in favor of imposing martial law, in the charge sheet against the Democratic Government. ‘It’s difficult to save a soldier but it’s easy to use his name for personal gains, for power’. He mentioned ‘the humpty dumpty boy’s identity’ will always be secret as the GHQ record states that the boy died in goal. It was Usmani and a few others who managed to save the boy. 

The Taliban Government ended in 2001 and the two-star man was awarded ‘Hilal-e-Imtiaz’.

            But my eyes just do not close. ‘Iqbal’ comes in my mind when I remember my Dad, the two-star man “he watered the dry garden of freedom with the surging wave of his blood”. Zunaira’s voice calls upon me, I remember seeing her body, her bones broken. And how can I forget my mother who could have made me a Chinese dish today. At five, the eyes finally seemed to close. ‘Soldiers should be stationed at borders, battlefields; they are not non-state actors’. And when the army uses their soldiers as non-state actors, they lose wars. When they put their fingers in other’s soil, their soil is penetrated by the prints of Punjabi Taliban. ‘A house is nothing without its superior warrior’. Today I can feed my heroes, my birds but I can never feed them like a mother because the love has not been there for years now. But I have new family members which I meet every day in the words of Faiz:

Wo dar khula mere gamkade ka,
Wo aa gaye mery milne waale,
Wo aa gai sham apni rahon me farsh-e-afsurdgi bichhane,
Wo aa gayi raat chaand taaron ko apni azurdgi sunane,
Wo subah aayi damakte nashtar se yaad ke zakhm ko manane,
Wo dopahar aayi aasteen me, chhupae sholon ke taaziyane
Ye aaye sab mere milne wale,
Ke jin se din raat wasta hai,
Tou kon kab aya kab gaya hai?
Nigha-o-dil ko khabar kahan hai
Khayal soo-e-watan rawaan hai
Samandaro ki ayyal thame...
Hazar wehm-o-gumaan sambhale
Kai tarah ke sawaal thhaamey-Mere milnay walay  

The sun has risen and I have a very important meeting today, 'they say those who do not sleep at night serve the mankind better'. I should rather take this tag then. I have worn my dress for the occasion, this time the tie is not stopping my breath. And I am ready to go in the battlefield, to defeat the devil.

Tuesday, 8 July 2014


The dark light of this night is welcoming a stranger on a soil ruled single handedly by a king for years. He can feel someone’s footsteps marching towards his soil. As if there is a soldier who is coming to battle with him. The king would not give his land, this is his place and he has worn the crown for years now, no one can steal it. “Weapons can never kill him until he has his sharp teeth” he decided not to close his eyes or else he will find traces of blood on his skin. To conceal his presence he had decided to hide himself behind his tall green friends, and as the soldier steps ahead, he will catch him and let the blood flow out from his veins. My fellow neighbors could be happy today because I will bring them happiness. But I suspect and wonder will this bring happiness to them as no one will come to see my act. I should kill these ideas for now and figure out how to overcome the approaching danger. Suddenly I sensed that he has stopped and the chewing sound suggests that he is hungry and he is overcoming his hunger. I cannot attack someone whose stomach was empty. Killing him at this time would suggest that I am killing an innocent soul who is weak and feeble.  
He is not a soldier anymore to me; he is empty handed as if his bravery and fervor has been looted on the way. With the help of my green friends I marched close to him. He has observed my movement because his stomach is full now. He might need the liquid now. Just in my neighborhood they need a bottle of coke after eating. He looks here and there as if checking any danger nearby but the danger was already there but he lied down and fell asleep. He is sleeping on my soil, that’s the perfect time to kill him, as backstabbing is common these days. I want no stranger on my land but is it the right time to kill him now, from whom can I consult, these twinkling stars but they are shining pretty well even they would mind his presence near them or may be my green friends but consulting them would be introducing them to a new friend. Everyone needs a friend even the butterflies gives their true colors when they are in groups. The way he slept I think he was roaming here and there to find a safe place but is this safe heaven? It’s the king’s land its hell for him, hasn’t he dug his own grave. I can make my friends happy show them my skills but attacking him now would sound unjustified that would be like killing someone with a weapon when he can be undo by a stone. Let him sleep for now and the street fight will begin tomorrow in the bright day light. For now I need to protect him so that no one else put his eyes on him. My eyes should be focused on him; today I have to act like an owl to be a tiger tomorrow. But if I sleep I am appealing to you O! My mighty green friends to protect him, today he is our guest that will be haunted tomorrow. I plead to you too oh the white light spreading circle; shade your light on him so that he feels no danger at least tonight.
The arrival of the morning is announced by themelodious voices of the sparrows and hens. My eyes turn wide open ready to face the enemy in this atmosphere. But my partner of last night hasn’t woken up yet, though the flies and bees are disturbing him by clipping to his skin. Suddenly he opened an eye and his eyes met mine. He at once stood up in a shock as a soldier who has lost the battle and is now feeling endanger. I made a huge sound perhaps that shocked my green friends as well. “Sometimes even powerful voices have no impact”. My guest’ssafe night is over; it’s time for the battle. But he showed no signs of bravery, his eyes blinking as if he has stepped in on the wrong soil. His search for a safer place has resulted in bombing arena, but he turned his back and walked away, no quarrel why? Have I committed a mistake by allowing him to stay alive all night? I quickly marched towards him, trying to block his way provoking him for a fight but he turned away every time he saw my red blooded eyes. “To kill him at this junction will be like attacking an ongoing train that has realized that it has accidently landed on the enemy’s soil”
The day passed as it usually does but I was thinking about him. Suddenly in these thoughts I fell asleep. The morning light was introduced to me by the disturbing flies. I wanted to eat them but it will just increase my enemies’ list. “Silence is the best medicine for curing someone’s harsh attitude”. Then I stood up and what I saw was like a bolt from the blue my guest of yesterday was sitting on a piece of wood just across me. Has my land being snatched away from me? No no this can’t happen. I moved towards him he seems to be ready for the street fight today so let’s began it then. We both made loud roaring sounds. This disturbed our neighbors and they entered the soil thrice our number. They were six and now the king was surrounded by seven enemies. But within seconds my one night guest ran away and disappeared. Now it’s a six to one fight. They attacked me from all sides. But suddenly my guest returned and attacked them and his bravery forced the new guests to leave the soil and vanish into the thon air. He then sat on the wood staring at me as the new guests have left me wounded. I can sense that in a few minutes I will join up the stars tonight. He marched towards me I was crumbling on the ground; my eyes have turned bloodless now. I was sure of my painful death but my guest did the opposite he touched my skin where there were wounds as if he was treating me. Every time he touched I went one step backwards his teeth’s were weapons enough to haunt me. He moved here and there and then went away. I fell asleep and when my bloodless eyes opened I found food in front of me, I quickly ate it as if it was a gift from God. But then I saw my guest eating the same kind of food, so my guest has brought it for me but why??? This was the only question looming in my head. Everyone should have a guest like him so that one won’t need to dirty his hands ever again.
I was feeling well now but my guest has disappeared. I waited for him till night but he didn’t appear. I was thinking what if my neighbors attack me in this period of time and so rightly they did came back once again. It was midnight and so dark that I couldn’t even count their exact number. But suddenly my ears were cherished by a familiar voice and that made me feel that the enemies would ran away at once. My old guest comes closer to me touched my skin with a gentle touch and placed the food, I ate it with relish and fell asleep. I knew I wasn’t alone someone was there to protect me, my guest, my first enemy and perhaps the future king of this land. Days passed and the same schedule was repeated. The future king came at night like an angel and disappears in the day light therefore I decided to follow him to know where he spent his days. One day I followed him and he stopped at a circled ground where two brave souls were fighting and he jumped into the fight. The fight continued for hours and finally the future king won it, then what prize did he get? Food and with that he marched towards my arena. It was a real fight and what I was planning was imaginary and the truth was revealed I wasn’t the stronger one. That night I realized he won’t steal my land and the first night he might have come here in search of food. This usual practice made us friends, I was alone in this big arena and finally I found a friend. And the days passed when he slept I protect him and when I slept he returned the favor. So we become partner’s two kings of the same arena Hasoly and Mamsie.

So the two kings can only survive and live together if they protect each other and work for mutual benefit. If they won’t they will be killed. One day the fight took a drastic mood when Mamsie got hurt in between the fight. Although Mamsie didn’t fight like he usually use to and let Hasoly grab the food. Hasoly fought like a criminal and harmed Mamsie, he let Hasoly hurt him because Mamsie couldn’t harm his friend. “Sometimes even the idea of harming your dear friend makes your inner soul die” Mamsie went away forever and is yet to return. Hasoley claim that he wasn’t fighting for himself but for the food, so that Mamsie has the best deal. But in fulfilling that wish his claim of being the superior king gunned over his nerves and made him act childlike and the result is loneliness.  I am again alone in this huge jungle now waiting for Mamsie to return. My biggest trouble at present is not that but will my neighbors allow me to live that long but ahead of all this the idea of being alone now in this big jungle is killing me. My old friends the green trees are pissed off by me because I ignored them for Mamsie.

“Sometimes there is little light in the dark shadows but one’s attitude never sees that small light which is entering through the hole can have the ability to make them whole”

(Hasoly is the king of the jungle who protects it from Mamsie the guest and the real king).

(Hasoly is the king of the jungle who protects it from Mamsie the guest and the real king).