Endless streaming of nothing leading to nothing......repetitive assertions and predictions that are based on simple notions that fly away like a dry leaf in a strong wind......the luxurious lightness of a softer evening is creeping forward daily, as the sun twirls down towards the southern horizon, the earth yawns and is now rolling over for a long sojurn towards the other side.....the lucky ones living above the dividing line are now waking up....the long slumber of deathly boredom overtaken by a long and harrowing crises brewing in the frontier of governance, dare devil performances of revealing the real faces of those who claim to be the saviors of the poor and the masses, startling and dazzling realities that existed before we were told they existed surprised us not by their simple existence, but simply by the fact that one of them choose to confront the truth and present it, though not very eloquently, on a national stage, in a dramatic manner...........some of the saviors of democracy and the religiously adorned were cornered on a level that they had never been before,....and all erstwhile thieves shed their costumes and appeared before the priest with a confession of being other than what they were accused off...nevertheless, the sun is tilting towards the southern horizon, and the evenings are becoming a medley of colors..and for me that only means one thing....the winters are nigh......no.....no matter what happens at the bottom of those wretchedly sinful hills, there is no place for a saint there....its a hellish town with a burning sensation for life that is lived behind curtains and after dark................but then, the winters are nigh..and the pleasant folks who require no passports, have no political affilitations are now beginnnig to arrive...its time people..its time for us to shed our facades are people who live in this world and travel to our little kingdom of heaven, be that in a distant lake or a livid pond or off the hills in balochistan or in the dessert of cholistan or the arid plains of punjab or the far away hills of KPK or the river belt of Sindh.....the bursting forth of partridges from crops and bushes and the twirling of a quail like a ballerina on methane.......or the rush of wild boar charge or the kamakze flight of the ducks.........the time has come to go back to our kingdom come.....and live our lives as lives are meant to be lived...for there, in the bottom less pit of lies and deception, in the coudroun of corruption and anarchy...no one speaks the language of logic..............the steel is renewed with a passion, and the smell of the cartridges makes me hungry, the yearning for the open pastures makes me thirsty.......may I live through this heavenly sojourn......may glory take me to meet you during the good times....see you out there, with a side by side in my hand, khakhis on me......a good old worn out pair of comfortable boots, a floppy hat.....a cool wind on my face, the rush of expectation pregnant in my heart and company of some good friends.......
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 10:47:06 +0000
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