‘Do you know what’s the problem with what you write?’ my filmmaker friend asked me.
Naqi and I are old friends. He knows me well. I write and sometimes he is kind enough to animate my words.
‘Please enlighten me.’
‘The world needs to be a happier place.’ His voice resonated of exasperation.
‘The world needs to hear happy words. People need to forget the dark side. They need a light at the end of their personal tunnels. But you my friend write only of heartbreak and sadness.’
‘Yeah! I guess you are right.’ I nodded. ‘But this is what I am. I can write of happiness and joy and laughter. But I don’t want to.’
When you kiss a woman,
and find her mouth sweet,
it is your love that you taste,
it is your heart that has raced.
Where is that sweet sad place?
lost forever in time and space,
where elephants go to die?
When you are two, the world is a big fat rainbow circling your cot.
A warm bottle of milk is the nectar of the gods; and a wet diaper or two is the limit of serious troubles.
This is a A3-sized mixed-media work. Oil paints, markers, dry pastels and pastels.
Dreamcatchers were built by the Native American mothers to guard their children against nightmares and evil spirits. Kind of a luck-evil eye combined charm
میرے ہمدم میرے جاناں
کیسے بتلاؤں تمھیں؟
کیسے سمجھاؤں تمھیں؟
محبت مان ہوتی ہے
محبت جان ہوتی ہے
مگر جب دو میں بٹ جائے
بس کڑا امتحان ہوتی ہے
نا رکھی جاتی ہے
نا پھینکی جاتی ہے
محبت شہر دل میں بس
اک ویراں مکان ہوتی ہے