He woke up in the middle of the night, startled. Sweating.
Panting he sat up abruptly, running a hand though is hair.
Swallowing thickly. Breathing heavy. Throat parched.

He jumped off the bed and ran across the room and back.
To thise side and the other. Running his hand through the hair.
Rubbing them on his face to calm the growing restlessness inside.
Stopping the darkness before it creeped into his bones.

Pacing back and forth, breathing.
Every step like a knife searing through his heart.

He opened the bathroom door, turned the faucet on, letting the water flow noisily
He started scrubbing his hands. Scrubbed until they turned blue.
Until the blood started showing in clogged patches under the skin.

Khoon ke dhabbay dhulenge
Kitni barsaaton ke baad

And he slid down on the floor, 
Weeping.  
Letting it get to him. And kill him for the nth time since the day.

Dil toh chaaha,
Par shikaste dil ne mohlat hi na di

And she walked, towards and away
Leaving marks of red and mud
Of words and dew

Dast afshaan chalo
Mast-o-raqsaan chalo

She walked stones and glasses
Leaving marks of  petals and glitter
Of hopes and dreams

Khaak barsar chalo
Khoon ba-daaman chalo

Anjaane hi tere nainon ne

Vaade kiye kayi saare hain

And she held on to that moment till the waves washed the shore clean

Till seashells had no more pearls left to carry

Purple has matured into mohagany
Leaving traces of dew and amber

Karachi

And there are other kind of cities.That live inside you and resonate within for years and moments to come. You breathe them like oxygen and drink them like water.
They become a part of you. Like second nature. Almost like first. Your very first love that you realize very very late. You’re lucky if you were smart enough to understand it within a few years time. And that’s exactly how Karachi is. Or was. Maybe. I don’t know. Its love at first sight. The city has so much to offer. And it will burn within you even after you’ve left the place.

Aao kahani bunen

Koi daanishvar aadmi zara mujhe yeh bataye ke kahani kaisay buni jaati hai.
Yeh koi rung biranga oon ka gola hai jo silaiyon main phansaa liya aur buntay buntay 'kahani' bunli?
Ya karoshiye ka dhaaga hai jo ungli main lapyt ke silaye chalayi toh 'Kahani' bungayi?

Aakhir yeh kahani bunnay ka lifz kis nay ijaad kiya tha?
Humen toh usske zehni tavvazun pe shak hota hai.
Bunna tha toh sweater bunta, scarf bunta, yeh kahani bunnay ka rivaaj hi koi naya hai

Qissa kuch iss tarha hai ke hum subha subha uthay, 
Baghair baalon main kanga kiye, baghair istri kiye kapray.
Pairon main chappal pasaray, Urdu bazaar ko niklay.
Iss khushi main ke humen wahan ek jild main fasanae azaad miljayegi.

Aur jo hum wahan pohche humari khushi ki inteha naa thi,
Itni saari urdu adab ki kitaaben kabhi humne ek hi dukaan min kabhi na dekhi thin
Jo poochne gaye ke bhai zara fasane azaad toh dikhaadijiye.
Humara dil baithay ka baitha gaya.
Boltay hain, baji yeh toh 4 jildon main milegi. Aur alag hum de nahi sakte. Leni hai toh saari kitaaben saath lo.

Hum mooh latkaye, teen chaar kitaben liye ultay qadam ghar ko hue.

Iss mod say jaatay hain

They let the moments slip into a comfortable pace

A pace matching their heartbeats,

A pace their feet would automatically pick the rhythm of

The rhythm of the seas,

Of waves crashing against the shores

Shores holding in numerous souls more than secrets

The pace traced back to a moment

A moment starting with the first cry

The first Azaan

The first lick of honey

The moment.

The life.

A mirror talks a million languages.
You've heard the shallowest one.

Hugging himself 

he sat in the corner

Waiting for answers

He rose in hope

Walked an alley

And ended up here