Dr. Mahmood Abbas Bokhari

Loss of a Scholar & Visionary

Dr. Mahmood Abbas Bokhari’s sudden demise has created a deep void. Our nation has lost a fine person and a great visionary. Dr. Bokhari was a senior medical doctor, a law graduate, a senior parliamentarian, poet and literary figure as well as author of many books and publications. He was one of the founding members of Pakistan People Party with late Z. A. Bhutto and a Member of National Assembly (MNA) for eight years. As a writer, he was fluent in Urdu, English, Punjabi, Persian and Arabic, and contributed many writings in all of these languages. He was a life-long student and scholar of Islam, history, constitutional law and divine philosophy. His life was as enriched as it was tumultuous.

Born to a humble and honest railway officer, he was prodigious as a child with a photogenic memory, witty personality and an immense aptitude for arts, sciences and sports. He not only excelled at his studies but also read and absorbed many books above his age. His grandfather (Nanna) loved him very much and recognized the talent in him. Young Bokhari spent a great deal of time with his nanna and heard him narrate passages from religious, history and literary books. Later on when his Nanna became blind, he would read various books to him. In this way, Bokhari not only became well read in history and religion but also developed an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Nanna frequently advised Bokhari, “Ahsan ul Ilm e Ilm ul Adian wa Ilm ul Abdan” (The best knowledge is the study of religion and body) and Bokhari took this advice to heart and lived by it. He also fulfilled his Nanna’s ardent desire and became a doctor at the young age of 19.

While at King Edward Medical College, Dr. Bokhari was patronized and mentored by KEMC Principal Colonel Elahi Baksh, a renowned physician and Quaid-e-Azam’s personal doctor. Dr. Bokhari considered him a father figure and idolized him. As president of King Edward Medical College, he excelled in his studies as well as sports. He was greatly admired by Dr. Baksh for his brilliance and integrity and he regarded him like his own son. As president he often had to host visits from various officials and celebrities. He only had one shabby suit to wear to these occasions. On one of these occasions, Dr. Elahi Baksh summoned him to his office and suggested that he use some of the college club (wrestling, rowing, boxing, general sports) funds to purchase a new suit. These funds are sanctioned for use by sports participants for their health maintenance and various needs. Dr. Bokhari, however, being a firm believer in the Categorical Imperative of Emmanuel Kant said to Dr. Baksh, “I am not a thief”. When Dr. Baksh offered to personally provide financial assistance, Dr. Bokhari said, “I am not a beggar”. He then excused himself from Dr. Baksh’s office and returned shortly to hand over his resignation as college union president. Dr. Baksh was so moved by his integrity that he got up and embraced him and promised not to broach the subject again.

In order to support his family, Dr. Bokhari took up the position of Demonstrator in Physiology at King Edward Medical College and also started private practice on Grand Trunk Road. After only six months into his practice he was forcibly posted to Muzaffar Garh District Hospital. At first it was a very difficult transition from Lahore to the remote city of Muzaffar Garh about 400 kilometers from Lahore. He was not only separated from his family but also lost his private practice with which he supported his family. Dr. Bokhari, however, soon established his practice and formed a commendable repute. He also developed friendships with the District Commissioner of Muzaffar Garh, Anayat Maula and other bureaucrats. Soon he became very popular among his patients for his excellent service, vast knowledge and amiable nature. The patients being poor villagers would express and pay their gratitude in the form of loyalty and gifts of livestock, vegetables, fruits and other bounties which were showered upon him despite his refusal. He requested the staff nurses to prepare and cook the food that he would give to the nurses, midwives, dispensers and staff members to take to their families.

When the 1956 Constitution was abrogated by President Field Marshall Ayub Khan, Dr. Bokhari was so incensed that he abandoned his job in Muzaffar Garh in protest to the government and came to Lahore where he was harassed.

Apne bhi hain naaraz paraaey bhi hain naalan
Mein zehray halahal ko kabhi keh nah saka qand
(Iqbal)

His conviction to fight for civil rights drove him to pursue a degree in law. The law degree not only helped him understand the constitution better but also to defend resistance from the government. He was a close friend of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and a founder member of Pakistan People’s Party. He conceived the idea of Islamic socialism as the precursor philosophy behind the Pakistan People’s Party. President Ayub was celebrating a 10-year leadership milestone as Dr. Bokhari approached Ayub Khan on that occasion and expressed to him the grave concerns he had about the government. Ayub Khan was impressed with Dr. Bokhari’s political knowledge and wisdom. Dr. Bokhari then felt the need of a platform that he could use to voice his concerns and effect change. He contested and won the election from the district of Kasur and became Member of National Assembly on the ticket of PPP in 1970, remaining in that position for 7 years. He was member of several committees and councils, including Pakistan Medical and Dental Council (PMDC) and Constitutional council. He was well known for speaking his mind without any fear regarding all issues, unlike many other parliamentarians or ministers who were always happy to flatter and be subservient to Bhutto. Whenever he felt that Bhutto was making a mistake or being driven by his over-sized go, Bokhari would state it forcefully. This sometimes earned him the enmity of his own party. On one occasion, after repeated attempts on his life by the police, he spoke for more than nine hours continuously in the session of the National Parliament, and ended his speech by tearing off his shirt and throwing it in the direction of Z. A. Bhutto, challenging him that if he wanted to kill Bokhari, he should do it and wash his shirt in his blood. This episode was reported internationally and finally stopped the attempts on his life.

After the fall of Mr. Bhutto’s regime and his execution, he had to face innumerable false martial law cases filed against him. Due to his habit of speaking his mind, he had made enemies within the military establishment, who instructed the formulation of more than one hundred false martial law cases against him. Due to his legal training, he personally fought all cases over the next eight years and was acquitted honorably in each and every one of the cases.

In 1969 he married Dr. Sajida Mahmood Bokhari, a gynecologist. They had six children, three boys and three girls. Both Dr. Bokhari and Dr. Sajida poured their love and attention into the upbringing of their children. They made sure that their children not only pursued distinguished careers but were also enlightened in religious and spiritual knowledge. They imparted their wisdom and vision and made them the torch bearers of their knowledge.  The eldest son has distinguished himself as a particle physicist, is a highly successful entrepreneur owning several patents and two companies in the Silicon Valley in US. The middle son was a medical doctor and with also a Masters degree in Public Health, planning to pursue neurosurgery but unfortunately passed away suddenly at the young age of 26. The youngest son, completed MBA, law as well as CSS and is currently a second secretary in the foreign office of Pakistan. The eldest daughter is a Pediatrician in US and the youngest one a Physician with a talent for poetry and literature like her father. The middle daughter is a scientist in Molecular Biology and is also an excellent artist. Dr. Bokhari was also a proud grandfather of three children.

Dr. Bokhari was an overachiever with high moral and qualitative standards but no desire for personal gains. With his wife on his side as his professional and life partner he founded the Bokhari Welfare Hospital on Grand Trunk Road near University of Engineering and Technology. Treatment and medicines were provided free of cost for needy patients. Dr. Bokhari worked day and night at the hospital with his wife and had to balance it with his political activities and family life. After winning his battle with the martial law dictatorship under Zia-ul-Haq, he resigned from his active political career and played a dormant advisory role to the democratic leadership of Pakistan. His letters to all the living and deceased leaders of Pakistan are a rich heritage for the nation. He remained the Advisor to the Chief Minister Punjab and Punjab Police for the eradication of crime in the province and founded the Elite Force of Punjab Police. In the following years he focused most of his attention to medical practice, children’s education and his literary, social and religious writings. He wrote numerous books viz. Roodad-e-Wafa, Badar Aur Ali, Harf-e-Wasiq, Nawa-e-Sirosh, Yaad-e-Farzan and Mashaam-e-Amber. His regular columns, interviews, articles and reviews have been published in all the leading newspapers. He founded and contributed  immensely to Idara e Tajdeed e Fikr, Idara Mauraf e Islam and Etihaad Bain ul Muslameen. His work for the peaceful coexistence of all sects of Muslims is highly commendable.

In 1998, upon insistence from his second son, Farzan, a medical doctor, he revived his political career and joined Pakistani Awami Tehreek with Dr. Tahir ul Qadiri as Senior Vice Chairman. He believed he could affect an inherent change in our country. However, fate had other plans. In 2002, his son Farzan was assassinated by a political opponent. Subsequent to this tragedy, Dr. Bokhari lost interest in politics and resorted to dedicating his time to study and writings. He was always inspired by Allama Iqbal, and his writings are incorporated with the modern day advancements of thought. He has therefore touched unexplored horizons in poetry.  His vast study combined with his inquisitive mind resulted in novel inferences about history and religion.

Towards the end of 2012, he got his gravesite prepared although he was in good health. He also expressed his last wishes and legacy to his family and relatives to their puzzlement. On Jan 7^th 2013, he died peacefully of a sudden heart attack while reciting Surah Yaseen and left world short of a scholar and visionary.

Bichra kuch is ada say keh rut hi badal gae
Ik shakhs saray sheher ko weeran kar gaya          
Timelines
BIRTH                                                                                                                    16^th Nov 1932
MATRIC                                                                                                                                Mar 1947
FSc                                                                                                                         May 1949
MBBS                                                                                                                    May 1954
LAW                                                                                                                       May 1962
NIKAH                                                                                                                   7^th Oct 1968
MARRIAGE                                                                                                         25^th Jan 1969
MNA                                                                                                                     7^th Dec 1970 – 5^th Jul 1977
Pakistan Awami Tehreek (PAT), Senior Vice Chairman                                   1998 – 2002                                           

PUBLICATIONS

1-      Roodaad-e-Wafaa

2-      Baddar aur Ali

3-      Sirus.

4-      Harf-e-Wasiq

5-      Nawaey Sirosh

6-      Yaad-e-Farzan

7-      Mashaam-e-Amber

8-      Author and editor, Muaaraf-e-Islam.

9-      Author of several articles and publications in leading newspapers   

10-   Haft Mukalaat

The Broken Idol

He is always surrounded by crowds of people and I hate standing in queue. The moment I realize that everyone wants something, it loses its value in my eyes for I cannot stand being ordinary in my wish list. Sitting in a dimly lit, secluded corner of his home, I watch him perform his ever famous party routine; the same jokes, the same anecdotes and the unquenchable thirst for attention of the fairer sex. For the first time in our entire acquaintance I feel nauseated by his habits. I have loved him immensely in many ways, but none of those finer qualities are visible in his manner tonight. I would be ashamed to be introduced as one of his friends today. I want to pick up my pale gold clutch and slip out of the backdoor into the slumbering streets. Something holds onto my heart and I am compelled to stay one last time to witness his failings completely. When the idol falls, it does not only break, it shatters into a million pieces and we can never remedy the loss. I feel tears pricking my lashes and a lump in my throat chokes me completely.  How can someone be two completely different people?

He often said that I should stay away from him because his love and attention are as poisonous as his indifference. His friends said that I was not his type of girl. Today, I truly understand the meaning of everything said and done. Looking at this loud ladies’ man hurts me more deeply than any cruel words or harsh actions. He has forgotten all my care and love with exemplary ease.  Even I doubt our attachment at times. He has the audacity to ignore my presence in his abode. The idol has fallen and I have yet to come to terms with the loss. For one last time I want to think of him with affection and respect as I have always done. I have known every expression that has passed over his features. I have heard the words he had never spoken and understood his deepest fears and torments. I have always read in between the lines. He saw and remembered everything but denied the knowledge. He had a habit of never being upfront and honest in speaking of his feelings.  He could come up with random, disjoint quotes and jokes to divert the subject from honest conversation. I always let him get away with it, thinking that maybe he is uncomfortable with sentimental expression. And then the way he looked at me when I spilled out my frivolous thoughts and dreams. I thought that was love. I am such a simpleton. I truly thought he had never encountered true devotion before and mine would be treasured beyond my wildest dreams. It never occurred to me that he neither desired nor deserved it.

While I am drowning in a whirlpool of emotions and memories I feel his presence nearby. I can smell his cologne that drives me out of my mind. I watch him sit next to me on the olive green couch. He is saying something but I am in a strange trance. I watch his lips moving slowly, the flutter of his lids as he gazes onto my face and the smile that had me mesmerized from the first time I saw him. A hopelessly romantic part of me wants to touch him and feel his warmth.  I want to say something substantial and walk away but I am incapable of speech or movement. I close my eyes in an effort to revive from the giddy feeling. He wants to know if I am all right. I nod slightly and say that I am just a little light headed. I wish my eloquence would not abandon me at the most pivotal moments of my life. I want to tell him that he is such a great misery to my heart and soul that I am in physical pain from his ignorance.  I am not swooning from heart break, I am weakened by the consciousness of my own insanity and imprudence. I cannot remotely conceive my poor taste and judgment of human nature. Why in God’s name did I expect him to love me or care about me.

All these thoughts spin inside my head while I try to stand on two very unsteady feet. He holds onto my hand and asks me to let him take me home. I pull away, saying that I will manage. He asks if I am sure I am strong enough to leave. I open my eyes and look into his deep hazel ones. The worry lines are scattered beneath his lashes but I cannot trust him again. It hurts too much to love someone as unpredictable and careless as him. With much effort I let go of his hand saying I am sure I have the strength to leave you. The music is too loud perhaps and he didn’t catch my words; but I am sure when he reminisces about today he will remember the barely audible farewell. He will think of the last time I looked at his face and the hand he will never hold again. At least that is what I will convince my frivolous heart of, every time I miss him immensely. I walk out of the front door as the Bryan Adams song echoes in the night air, “Please forgive me, I can’t stop loving you.” My silly, silly heart wishes that he had that song played for me, but I know I will always remember this moment with this song and cry silently. It is not him but I who cannot stop loving him. The idol has shattered but the devotion of my heart will linger on long after the dust has settled.

Some Treasures And A Diary

It has become a strange obsession. I look for you and find you. When I see you happy and content, I am hurt beyond belief and I want to make you as incomplete and raw as I feel inside. When I find you worried and unhappy, I want to hold you in my arms and comfort you. I can neither have you nor let you go. It is a bizarre bondage where my heart never stirs from its first stance when I met you and fell insanely in love with you. And yet, my mind knows in full comprehension that you will never be mine. I do not speak of this love to anyone, not even to myself because acknowledging it would make my own faculties criticize my moral grounds and sanity incessantly. But I know on a deep, profound level that if you ever held out your hand and asked me to let the universe go and step off the highest mountain holding your hand, my heart, mind and soul would not hesitate. Tears prick at my eyes as I think of all the ways in which you complete me and how I have been searching for someone like you all my life. Now as I look at the very reincarnation of my dreams, I know I cannot have you. Your life is not perfect either; I can see the cracks and the fault lines. I know you want to run away from everything in your life when you are miserable. But I also know that you would not be the man that I love and honor if you did not stand tall in the face of adversity and share love freely with those who cannot love you the way you want to be loved.

There are a handful of your pictures that I love to see over and over again. One in which I can see the same look in your eyes that I cherish. It is the way you look at me with heartfelt warmth, love and compassion and a gentle smile on your lips. Somehow I feel loved completely when you look at me that way. In the hardest days this picture has been a great comfort to me. Then another one in which you are sleeping peacefully with a smile on your face. I always wanted to watch you sleep and I often find myself gazing thoughtlessly at this image and wondering what dreams are making you smile. And the last one is a photo of you in the summer rain and it has a message written on it for me. All these pictures lie in a beautiful silver box along with some tinsels from our times together. A dainty scarf that has your cologne on it, a piece of paper with your name written decades ago by yourself and a pair of gold plaited studs; one you lost at a dinner years ago. I smile as I remember looking for it with you while it was safely tucked into my clutch. You handed me the other one, saying that one is useless without the other. I asked you what will I do with it and you said, “Keep it safe until you find the other one or never let me see it again if you don’t.” And one little pile of your poems and letters, some scribbling on my notebook and a sketch you made of me when I was crying one day. Love makes one treasure the most mundane of things. In one corner of the box is your wedding invitation with the caption, ‘would love it if you come, but would understand if you don’t.” I didn’t go. Dressed up and put on my makeup but cried so hard that the mascara bled. Washed my face again and tried to redo the makeup. I gave up after the third attempt. I didn’t have the heart to see you with someone else. And you knew every line on my face and every expression; I just couldn’t destroy your happiness either by crying at your wedding.

Today I am living a wonderful life but I think of you. Small everyday things remind me of you. Sometimes it is just a gentle reminder and it makes me smile and I forget quickly that I thought of you. Weeks go by when I do not even think of you. But then, some days cluster together where I miss you insanely. When I feel like a lost little girl stranded in the middle of a thunder storm. All I want and need is to be able to run back to your arms and hold on tight. All my wisdom and insight leaves me and I am left feeling so lonesome that nothing comforts my grieving heart. Times gone by are a destination for the soul that yearns for them. I have no means of going back to the times when all was bright and beautiful. I surrender to this raging storm within and lie crumpled in a dark corner of my home. With eyes tightly closed, my mind wanders to the past and I hold your hand once again. When I wake from this slumber I usually write whatever I can remember of my dreams of you. Someday we will be able to laugh at all this pain and misery and share these moments of madness. I convince my frivolous heart that we will talk freely of this tragic little love story one day and I will show you my dream diary. We will compare our dreams and see if our souls actually met in the dream world. This childish infatuation with palmistry, ghosts and other paranormal things was always a common interest between us. In most miserable and gloomy days this innocent idea has cheered me up. And then, I’d complete the superstition by nibbling onto something sweet with a steaming cup of tea or coffee. It’s just a reminder to my naive heart that we will always meet again if we add some sweetness while parting. As I close my treasure box of memories I place my dream diary on the top, where I can find it the next time I miss you immensely.

This Too Shall Pass

The void has grown yet again. The death of hope and the end of love are a very miserable milestone in life. The journey of a thousand miles starts and ends here and the eye can see nothing but barren landscapes and dreary days. I watch the sand dunes shift, hoping to see a distant traveler ride through the dust. I feel moisture on my face as the gusts of wind blow past me. A sudden joy fills my heart that maybe the impossibility of rain in the desert is becoming possible; but as the warm liquid slides past my lashes onto my cheeks and finally slips into the scorching sand, I realize I am thinking of you. Without conscious effort my mind has slipped back to my dream of you and is missing the loving embrace and the companionship. I am such a blessed soul that I found and lived my fairy tale; but there would not be many as unfortunate as myself in the world that loved so well and lived after the trance was broken. I still wake up feeling your presence and it takes a long, long time for my heart to believe that you breathe no more. I often doze back when I realize this and sleep longer than intended. Reality is too harsh to be accepted.

I have been at this crossroad too many times before. I know how the heavy burden around the heart makes me feel incapacitated and even breathing becomes a chore. Nothing brings a smile to my lips or joys to my heart broken in love and if for some reason I feel the smallest trace of happiness, guilt and remorse overshadow it. How can I ever be jocund again? Dreary days merge into dark, dull nights and the silent mourning continues until the nerves are wrecked by the smallest stimuli. Episodes of incessant crying are followed by trances of mute isolation. The only comfort is to sit quietly secluded in a dark corner of the world and fantasize of the time when all was perfect. I start to shun the company of family and friends just to avoid their lame attempt to save me from falling head first into this abyss. I want to destroy the last fragment of my existence if it could liberate me from the pain. I want to stop dreaming, wishing and praying for something that is far beyond my reach. I want to stop hurting now and if death is the only portal, then let it be my savior.

I am sitting on my back porch watching the moonlight reflecting off the swimming pool. The water looks so unreal as if it is a doorway to another world. I am sipping a freshly brewed cup of Lipton tea. A soft breeze makes tiny ripples in the water. I wonder what would happen if I step into the pool and never emerge. I have heard stories of drowning where the victims are found with their eyes open wide and a smile on their faces while they look up at the light from above. Somehow I find the idea of dying with a smile very romantic, as if a gallant soldier has gone down fighting. I leave the half-filled cup onto the steps and walk barefoot to the water’s edge. I slip inside and feel the cold dampness engulf me. With closed eyes I just let myself go as I float to the surface. I am neither trying to swim nor save myself, but the swimmer’s instinct knows that it will take much more than mere water to drown me. No matter how desperate I am to let go of life, I have the capacity to float to the surface every time.  The moonbeams are one of best therapies for depression that I know of. I just let the water hold onto me while I feel the milky light all over my face. Somehow I feel lighter as if trusting the waves has taken my burdens away. Dripping wet, I tiptoe to my bedroom with a smile on my face. I just solved one of the greatest mysteries of the Universe. My afflictions may be substantial but if I put my faith in a greater power, I will somehow get through these days. This too shall pass.

Always And Forever

It must have been a dream. I was dressed in a dainty pink gown and he in a dark suit. We had an aura of happiness and sunshine around us. Flashing lights followed us wherever we went; sounds of music and laughter filled the air and the fragrance of freshly picked blossoms permeated everything. I was in a daze, smiling endlessly at fragments of conversations with so many unfamiliar people. At times, I felt like a celebrity with the notorious paparazzi and at other times I was like a child lost in a crowded festival. It felt wonderful and daunting at the same time. The faces of people blurred out of view every now and then as I slipped into my private fantasy world. A small voice inside my head kept saying this is the best day of your life. You will hold on to memories of this day forever and anything said and done will be etched in time and memory. The thought was frightening and I found myself looking at his face. His gentle mannerisms and his loving, doting eyes gave strength to my failing heartbeat. It is always and forever with this man and I love him enough for the both of us. He need not prove anything to me or the world for us to be happy.

The rings were exchanged. He held onto my hand and whispered I am never letting you go. I laughed with a very light heart and said me neither. I still feared if our vow would stand the test of time but looking in his eyes I knew we will both try and make it work. He kept making small comments and anecdotes and I found my heart settling in comfortably in a lifelong journey. Small considerations and kindnesses sprout the seeds of love and devotion. In some moments I felt lonely especially when he was greeting his family and friends. I looked around at my side of the guests and the faces of near and dear ones smiling and enjoying my wedding day. I realized that this was the most important day of my life because everyone of any significant value to my heart was sharing these moments with us. I was always surprised how brides can be so graceful and beautiful when placed in such a spotlight. Now I know that the bride is the center of attention of everyone who is pivotal in her life. She is beautiful because she knows she is at her best among people who love her at her worst. The feeling is nothing short of pure heaven.

The day ended like a dream and I kept remembering it in fragments. But when the pictures came out, the memories became clearer. The moments we shared where he saw only the shine in my eyes and I saw his gentle smile, were seen from the perspective of our families and friends. Sitting hand in hand, smiling and whispering endearments were two young people at the beginning of a very long journey. We looked contented and none of the fears showed. No one seemed to care about the small mistakes made in the wedding arrangements and the last minute fixes to endless blunders. Everything was perfect and not a single speck could be changed. I gazed at the pictures endlessly and knew they will be hanging in our home in gilded frames for the rest of our lives. Our children will grow up fantasizing of a perfect love like ours and all our friends and family will remember the day we said our vows. And we will laugh in private moments at a very unique love story and know that sometimes fate nudges us towards our fairytale. It still feels like a dream but I know this one is always and forever.

If You Go Away

This moment in time is captured forever. You and I in the confines of your car, close enough to touch and caress yet struggling to stay apart. The familiar lyrics of the Shirley Bassey song, “If You Go Away” pulling at our heart strings as you whisper the words with your eyes half closed. I am dying to run my fingers through your hair, slide my hand in yours and seal your lips with mine; but sanity holds me back from slipping into this trance. I know there will be no turning back once I cross this little bridge between us. I just close my eyes and imbibe the scent of your cologne, the warmth of your presence and the words that you want me to hear without saying them yourself. I let the moment imprint upon my memory so that I can revisit our little rendezvous later in my dreams and love you the way I want to, without a single hesitation holding me back. Seconds later you look at me and smile, tiny lines creep up under your eyes and the grown man became a little boy again as the next song plays. It is “I’ve Been Waiting For a Girl Like You” and I know it is not a coincidence from the mischief in your eyes. I gently smile looking at every feature of your face, the way loose strands of hair fall across your forehead and the little mole on your cheek gets buried in the dimples. I heave a sigh and tell my silly heart not to play with fire. I ask you to turn back before that little voice in my head gets lost in the thunder of our heartbeats.
We are so afraid of each other. You fear my youth and naivete as I hold your hand in mine. While I am dreaming of our love, your eyes search for signs of frivolousness. A part of you is magnetically drawn to me while another fights the urge to hold me in your arms. You keep on finding fault in everything I say or do, but I know it is your own heart you speak against and not my person. My blind trust in you is the worst torture for your heart and mind. You do not want to besmear the innocence you adore and yet you want to possess it with a wild passion that ignites your very soul. With one hand you pull me closer and push me away with the other. I let you lead this tango while I let my senses ravish in the feeling of being loved by a man who I can die for. You bend and break my pride and I yield to this manipulation because I know you are my match in every way. I am more afraid of you than you will ever know. I fear your age and wisdom. I am certain I will make a complete fool of myself and you will walk away unscathed. When I say something endearing to you, you do not respond as freely as I want and my insecurity peaks. I pull away, half afraid and unsure of where we are going and then you come closer and make the entire situation more baffling than before. When I move one step closer to you, you retreat inside your shell but when I try to ignore you, you charge like a wounded lion. I am coming apart at the seams with all this tussle of the heart and mind. You will not have me and you will not let me go. If this is not bondage, what else is? We are such similar creatures; our insanity, romanticism and nobility make us deny ourselves our greatest pleasures and desires. We tread on the brink of godliness and fear the dreaded fall from grace. But we are not the only ones to blame. Our fears will only be soothed with more time and patience, but passionate love lacks both traits.
I am in essence meeting my soul mate in you. In every habit, want and need you are such a perfect match. Of course, celestial humor could not let us meet without knowing for certain that the price for love will be dearer than life. Our stakes are so high that we will never dare touch this forbidden fruit. And thus, the wiser part of my soul smiles sadly and rejoices in loving you from a distance. In a chance encounter, within seconds my heart just knew that we belonged together, perhaps in a past life. I knew the feeling was mutual from the lost look on your face. I have ceased to question my sixth sense over the years and I let the chips fall where they will. In a matter of days we have had endless meaningful conversations, shared our greatest torments and sorrows; laughed and cried together and have bonded for life. The compulsion to hear what the other has to say about everything and the unquenchable desire to see each other if even for a moment has become a habit. You are the last thought in my mind when I sleep and the first when I wake up. Strange are the ways of love. Stranger still are the invisible hands of fate that nudge two hearts towards each other to be forever joined in affection. Now that we have met and know the obstacles in our benevolence, all we need is to find a name for this love in our hearts. There are a million colors in the palette of love and our shade needs to be identified.
I want to cross the line and see what lies on the other side. I want to touch you and trust you completely. I want to find out who you will become when I love you the way I dream of loving you. But I know the answer will bring pain and misery in both forms. If we love it, we will be miserable in parting and if we don’t we will be embarrassed of our actions. See, even now in the midst of all this confusion, my senses do not fail me. I don’t want to step away and lose you in the crowd; neither do I want to become so intimate that the only way you can salvage your sanity and mine is by letting go. How does one keep the right distance for a lifetime with someone who moves your heart, mind, soul and body? How close is good enough to be friends. The fine line that we tread upon needs better definition so that we can love each other all our lives without hurting the pivotal people in our lives. This initial high of finding you has me muddled and mesmerized. I want so much more but I cannot compete with the people who have made you who you are. I would never respect us if we hurt any one of those people for our selfish needs. And yet I want all of you without sharing a single moment or memory with anyone else. You bring out all my angels and demons in the strongest forms. All I know is that I have never felt this empowered before. I can be anyone I want today and you have given me these wings to fly with. If you go away; so will my hope of finding myself ever again. I will be lost forever in a crowded world wondering what if I had touched you on that summer evening. What if I had tasted the forbidden fruit and discovered heaven on the tip of my tongue. What if I had committed the crime of passion and asked God for his forgiveness later. I know the answer will be more jocund than the prospect of a life without you. I know all will be worthless and mundane if you go away!

A Few Grains Of Sand

I had forgotten my romance with the written word; the long letters and the sensitive poetry. The verses of woe and regrets replaced the early youthful fancies and finally the pen ceased to flow. The inspirations were lost in the grind of life and mundane routine replaced all things bright and beautiful. The delicacy and decency of living life with the utmost zeal was replaced with basic survival tactics. Life does that to the best of us and we often stand before the mirror gazing at the reflection of a complete stranger. The noose is tightened every day and the shackles grow heavier with every step. Such is the bondage of life without love.  I have carried those chains with a commendable grace and fortitude. No one could even imagine that my pillow is damp with tears every night and every morning the first thought in my mind is to quit completely. The amount of effort it takes to start another day of absolute isolation while moving among crowds of familiar people cannot be elucidated. Only someone doomed to such an ill fate can fully comprehend the silent anguish that I have endlessly suffered. Death wish had taken a new charm and my first and foremost desire was not to live a long life. The journey had grown so tedious and morose that the sooner it ended the better it was. I am sure if I had said even a fraction of these silent thoughts to any one of my friends or family, they would have reprimanded my ingratitude to the Almighty who has blessed me with so many consecrations.

I wonder at the contrast of feeling between then and now. I always rationalized my misery by attributing it to age and experience. I told myself that the joys of youth have passed like the seasons and now serenity and peace are the only attainable forms of happiness. I worked harder every day and tried to find comfort in the perfection of my skills and the admiration of my colleagues. The little child huddled within my heart wanted so much more. She wanted to be caressed and pleased. All her wishes granted at every whim and tears hushed with tender embraces and loving kisses. At every milestone achieved I winced inwardly at the blind crowd gathered to applaud my achievements. Only someone standing at the pinnacle of success can feel the utter loneliness associated with that spot. One has nothing and no one while the world cheers and secretly envies your triumphs. The bigger, better houses and lifestyles are more mandatory to the successful image but detrimental to the heart that seeks a comfortable, cozy place to call home. The lights and laughter of crowds always end in agonizing silence and tears. The glamor of success is a crucifixion of the soul and all things substantial. The portrayed images have nothing to do with the person who has to play the lead role in his own life while someone else holds the reins. But all those torments have ceased; at least for the time being the waters of life are tranquil again.

The euphoria and giddiness of love is back. The lighthearted chatter, the limitless optimism and the carefree laughter have dawned again. I had begun to believe that those seasons will never return. My heart will never leave the confines of caution and mistrust for any amiable stranger and I will not find the happiness of youthful naiveté. The stars that conspired to break my heart will bring all the misery and loneliness in the Universe at my dismal door and leave me with lamentations of misery and grief. I am delightfully surprised at the invisible hands that are moving the strings of fate in my favor. I am jocund again and for no apparent rhyme or reason. The flame that had long extinguished within my soul has been rekindled and the embers are glowing red with pride and devotion. The colors of spring are vibrant again and the winds whisper long forgotten melodies in my ears. I am my youthful self again and I yearn for things I had long ceased to dream about. Love is in the air and the change of season has refreshed all that was worn and withering within my heart. It is perhaps not a tangible joy yet, but it is the dream of a contentment that may enlighten upon my days; and while I anticipate the blissful seasons, my heart is so enamored by the dearly beloved who brings this new found hope in my bleak perspective.

I have found in my heart the passion to hold such immense emotions that they have to be expressed in words. Poetry has sprung out of my deepest desires and the letters of devotion and adoration are flowing freely. Where caution would have captivated my thoughts, I feel a senseless desire to speak endlessly of every dream of my life and every wish of my heart. I feel my bosom has infinite capacity to imbibe joys and the laughter has healed the ailing spirit. I am free of every chain and my wings flutter sturdily for my maiden flight. I am soaring towards the horizon and every breath is liberating my anguish. I find the same insanity of youth in him as he responds to my frivolous flights of fancy. We talk, we write, we laugh and sing and yet we know the freedom may be a transient spell that will be broken. We will wake up forever stranded in the sordid grind of our mundane lives. It is a wonderful dream of unconditional love and we are so infatuated with each other that we wish never to be roused from this slumber. And yet we live so ardently in the heat of the moment and forget that the last time we were heartbroken, it took us years to heal the heartache. The sunshine and spring is fleeting but the memory of this love will give us enough strength to walk the remaining miles with a lighter foot. We are but mortal grains of sand in the world but sometimes in the sunlight every speck sparkles like a diamond and dazzles the unwary observer. This rapture is our moment of brilliance in an otherwise common existence and while we can, we will bask in the glory of true love.