A Confluence of Our Minds!

Na hareef-e-jaan (Rival of life), na shareek-e-gham (companion of sorrow),

Shab-e-intezar koi to ho.

Kis se bazm-e-shauq mein laye hum,

Dil-e-bekarar koi to ho.

FARAAZ 

Writing for and about you is a crystal feeling of mingling droplets into the ocean. I desire to meet you at a place where all the water, places, and philosophies meet. I dream of connecting with you at a place where the sun kisses the horizon. I wish to surrender to you, where a brook leaves a mountain! I wish to wander with you, where the water bursts a rock and cascades down the hill. I dream of a reunion where pine meets the sky, or at a place where a fleeting glimpse of a traveler catches a running deer.

The meeting of souls in these locales may be real or imagined, yet in my vivid imagination, every image is distinct, and every scene is bright. I observe every star that twinkles and the moon pinned in the sky. I recall the leaves' melody and the branches' ballet, the earth inhaling the heartfelt scents of your essence. In this moment of craze, one gets entangled and submerged in the pedigree of beauty and romance.  As the ages passed, the craving for lovers' rendezvous never ended. The milieu and spaces envisioned were not terrestrial but terra incognita. 

Imaginary boundaries without margins could exist in the cosmic realm where human souls yearn for the reunion. Mother Earth offers us expansive stretches as vast as the meadows where summer cattle graze - verdant and boundless. We also observe the tips of icebergs and the fringes of mountain ranges, carving out spaces for those lost in their quest. Above green valleys, we see mists and clouds float to create an ambiance for knowledge seekers.

After all, can we conclude the mysteries existing in events around us! What is it that makes an act real or imagined? What explicates volition and pre-determinism? In the quietness of the night where stars whisper the secrets of the universe, bones rest under the shadow of the moon, and fatigued soul is covered in the blanket of longing, hoping for another day to arrive and where we meet again to find ourselves revealed, and expressed in the windy valleys. 

And I woke up in a dreamy dream-the dream that will extend beyond my existence. A vista still embeds in my mind: Quivering droplets hanging on emerald blades, longing to return to the Earth– a wrestle so confusing, should it weep for the ache of separation, or be joyous for long-awaited union. Faintly I heard, hidden from the prying eyes–winged poets singing in a choir– excited–when I prowled through the pines, I saw sky dancers gracefully swaying, wafting on a soft blanket of clouds that embraced the earth with a gentle touch. Faraway, the sun peeps over the shoulder of pine-draped peaks to enjoy the rare sight of the “soulful duo”, girted by an unbreakable cosmic thread of love. Traversing on misty roads, all soaked in the enchanting clouds, they move in perfect harmony, breathing tranquility, and often, exchanging a flurry of kisses, this renewed life fills them with a deep peace. If they ever feel lost through ups and highs, they guide and navigate each other through uncertainties, always finding their way back to each other. With mirthful smiles, celestial beings watching vowed to shield the star-crossed lovers to ward off evil eye. 

The Mysterious Canvas: Love, Destiny, and Reality”

Wasn't it a perfect dream?

But, with daybreak, the quest sprung anew, I delved my mind into books of all sorts, conversed with souls of all parts, from unending plains to towering mountains, from whispered secrets to tales told, exhausted with the disappointment and disillusionment, my weary soul returned to a secluded sanctum, to find solace in the dream I had. The questions returned to me, and I pondered over them with a new perspective. After all, can we conclude the mysteries existing in events around us? But why are we so scared of mysteries and feel threatened by them? Aren’t they beautiful, enthralling, captivating?

My dream was a divine painting of mystery–nature, the cosmos, the celestial beings meticulously brush-stroking the canvas of star-crossed lovers. The brushstrokes of destiny and purpose blend seamlessly into a cosmic canvas, creating patterns of sundry hue; seemingly absurd and mysterious to our mortal eyes.  The fear of this unknown instills fear in the human mind and disrupts the peace. But, if interpreted otherwise, whatever seems uncanny to us, unusual to our mortal world– the monstrous mysterious, is an essential part of the great design, a cosmic canvas painted by brushstrokes guided by higher wisdom. Nothing is mysterious to the Almighty, Cosmos, and Nature, as everything thrives and survives in harmony.  Does it make sense now, that the whole universe is on guard for a love so powerful it could turn friends into foes? The mystery is a secret, safeguarded by the cosmos, and yet to be revealed at the right moment.

Wait, was that a dream? Or a reality? What is it that makes an act real or imagined? Maybe, it wasn’t a dream, but a reality which appears to be surreal, so difficult to be assimilated in reality, a mystery unresolved. If it was reality, it had to be a divine plan, a work of the cosmos, a perfect scene to be enacted till eternity. 

The platonic love, wait, is it platonic? Or just a game of lust and desires. Could a game of lust and desires be blessed by celestial beings, girted by cosmic powers, be pure and constant? And what explicates volition and pre-determinism? Could a man be as crafty, skillful, and perfectionist as our Creator is? Could he bring birds, clouds, pines, sun, and mountains in such a harmonious confluence, and enact this dream in reality? We know all the answers, yet we pretend to know nothing, the charade of being a respectable and honorable man has deceived and imprisoned the cosmic soul within all of us?

The “mysterious”– inexplicable yet seemingly known since the dawn of time– drew our souls to this confluence. I became one with you when our Creator said, “And We created you in Pairs.” We are one, an eternal union, which transcends meeting and separation.

Mun tu shudam tu mun shudi,mun tun shudam tu jaan shudi

Taakas na guyad baad azeen, mun deegaram tu deegari

Sometimes, a thought troubles me, how I survive this separation? Possibly, I am a mediocre lover or not. I’ll let you decide. When I close my eyes, I feel your presence, your breath, your scent, and I feel myself safe in your embrace. Trust me, it turns out scary, I am afraid I might make this figment of my imagination my reality, what all majnuns do. In imagination, we are never apart, yet in reality,  we never meet. The boundaries of reality and imagination are softly dissolving, so I desire to meet you in reality to hold on to sanity. Writing for and about you was an awakening from a deep slumber of non-existence.