سجن دے ہتھ بانہہ اَساڈی

The message read:

AOA leenah, hope you are staying safe . I have a question and you are one of the two ppl I'll ask this . Where is this all heading ? Is our time up ?

I wrote back

Wassalam      , Apki mohabbat hai.

What does it matter if we know where this all is heading?
Qabar ka question paper bhi wohi rahay ga, Akhrat ka evaluation criteria bhi. Main aur ap fikar main ghul kay wo waqt aur energy lose kar dain gay jo Connection ko behtar karnay main utilize ho sakti thi.
Humain ilm ki illusion is liay chahiay hoti hai coz it feeds our need for control.

"Sajjan de hath baanh" wala maamla hai, dil ko samjha lain.
Shah Hussain ki kaafi hai ye: سجن دے ہتھ بانہہ اَساڈی ، کیونکر آکھاں چھڈ وے اَڑیا

Jahan Maalik lay jaey, Us ki marzi. Jab Wo curtains close kar day, Us ki marzi. Hum apni taraf say best foot forward rakhain gay. Bus.
Wo janay, Uska game plan kia hai.

The return mail read:

It all comes back to total submission . I hope I learn that before the curtain closes .

I think I relate with this concern a lot. I think many of us relate with this concern strongly.

I wrote:

Have you read Mufti's Labbaik,      ?

In the book, he narrates the scenes when people are leaving Arfaat, before the Maghreb azaan, during Hajj. He felt restless for not being among the ones who left earlier, since all the religious manuals talk about heading to Muzdalifah and offering Maghrib and Isa there. He found Qudrat ullah Shahab extremely calm, despite the delay and felt even more out of place. Shahab sb said to him, "Baat point of time ki nahi hai. Period of time ki hai."

When I read this, I was still studying at the university. I was as restless, impatient individual as Mufti. I had related with him in most of his musings. For some reason, Shahab sb ki ye baat meray zehan main atak gai. No, not as a lesson learnt. But more like a puzzle. :) Like you keep wondering time and again kay iska matlab kia hai.

-------

Now lets park this here, and let me take you to my school :)(lemme know please when I tend to get overbearing)My father was posted to Pindi when I was in 9th grade. I did my matriculation from there. Among the worst things I found with this move was my new Urdu teacher. I was smarter and ahead of my class in my language skills. And the acute realization of this made me even more resentful of the Urdu teacher, an elderly wife of some retired brigadier sb. She would come to our class with a course book Guide and literally dictated us answers from the Guide. Verbatim. Outside the Guide, whatever was asked from her was always answered in the most silliest of ways. I felt very strongly that I deserved better. However, despite my shadeed strong dislike for her (and continued campaigning against her in the class - including mimickery of her), I was the most respectful student in her presence. She adored me (much to my horror), and would ALWAYS spare me when she'd punish the rest of the class.

Since she was often hooted at and boo'ed in our class (much thanks to my campaigning and influence as the Prefect), she'd often be yelling at the class: "Jis ko ghar walay adab nahi sikhatay, usko zamana sikha deta hai." We wouldn't pay heed to it, of course.

I passed Matric, scored position at board in FSc, landed at a boarding university. She was left far far faaaaar behind. I no longer remembered her. It was here when my acute realization of being a smart cookie got challenged for the first time. I barely scraped through the first semester. I felt inadequate, dumb, alone and sinking. I'd recall all the times I had felt invincible in my own right, and winced at the recollections.

In my last year at the university, I had a dream. This was right after I had performed Hajj. My quite young mother (still in her 40's) was at deathbed in Lahore. My in-laws to be were asking about the shadi dates. My FYP was in shambles. I was unsure about the person I was getting married with. And all that was keeping me going was reciting darood whole day long. I had effectively turned into a mute, with my weight dropping to its lowest in my life. (I went from wearing Generations L size to XS, WITHOUT any attempt at dieting during those 4 months).

And one night I had a dream.
In it I saw her. My Urdu teacher from 6 years ago. She walked me through a collection of tents, jaisay kisi qaaflay ka parao ho. It's night time in my dream and there are various tents and bonfires at regular intervals. She knows the place like the back of her hand and guides me through, until we reach a massive, elaborate tent. She asks me to stand and wait outside and goes in. She returns after a while and says to me, "Hazrat Muhammad (saw) nay mujhay kaha hai kay tumhain paighaam day doon, tum jo darood roaz parhti ho, wo un tak pohanchta hai." And she smiled at me.

I woke up with the memory of her face and smile so fresh that I was literally jolted to my core. The first thing I did was calling my very social friend from school, in Pindi. I asked her if she had any updates about our ex-Urdu teacher. She did not, but she said that she could let me know later. That night I called her again.

"Tumhain kuch pata tha kia?" she asked. "Unki parsoN death ho gai hai."

-------

Jo adab (intezaar, submission) khud nahi seekhta, usko ye sab sikhaya jata hai. She had been right all along. Baat point of time ki nahi hai, period of transformation ki hai. Baybasi humble hona sikhati hai. Humble insan abd banta hai. Abd ko Ma'abood qabool karta hai. Bus itna sa process hai.

Hum apni daanist main ye samajhtay hain that it is we who do things, who BECOME humble. It might be so in the case of chosen few. Most of us are too set in our ways. We don't become. We're taught. Every time you stumble across a wall, you can't will it away. The wall shall remind you of your limitation. The more the walls, the more the reminders. Little by little, all these reminders grow into a massive avalanche of realization. That avalanche takes place soundlessly. We are being tuned to a certain frequency all the while believing that a certain point in time aik magic spell humain KABOOOM change kar day ga. Kaboom nahi hota. Transformation occurs silently.

Ap dua kijiay. Dua qabool kranay Wala sunay ga. Have faith.

If this doesn't make sense to you, please forgive me. I may have been carried away. 🙏

The person wrote back very Kindly:

I am speechless leenah . Thankyou for this . Thankyou for being so patient with my questions . Allah aap ko wo de jo aap us se mangti hain .

Putting it up here as a reminder to every heart, including my own, in their dark night of faith.

We Deliver All Who Have Faith

Some weeks ago I had made the following post somewhere on the social media:

For every soul that finds itself in the dark belly of distress and needs this reminder. 

Verses referred are 21:87-88; 37:139-149.

A while later I received a message quoting this post, and it read just this one line:

I have been calling and calling from the deepest despair my dark soul is in . But then may be the plea is lacking

I wrote:

Or maybe, you expect the response to be within your realm of interpretation and time frame. And how He is responding is in another language, or by another time frame. Stay put.

The reply came:

I never thought of that ...

My job was just to share the reminder:

Keep faith. Your Lord has not forsaken you.

Putting it up here as a reminder to every heart, including my own, in their dark night of faith.

Could Longing Be a Reward

The message read:

Assalamoalikum,
I came across someone just yesterday who (claims to) have been blessed in a very special way. He is a serving bureaucrat. He wrote a naat and as a result he was visited by ...you know. He was also approached by the matawali of the Roza e Mubarak and given a moe Mubarak. All this led me to question once again why not me? And this question means I am back to square one. Not only I don't get to take a glimpse of this whole other world, I am not deemed worthy of it despite my intense desire , it also means that I haven't moved forward I am still questioning I am still complaining though I am resisting but I am really disappointed in myself and my destiny at the same time.

I wrote back:

1. Imtehaan vary kartay hain in their appearance and format. Two people tried at the same degree of difficulty, may have entirely different question papers: kisi ko day kar aazmaya jata hai, kisi ko mehroom rakh kar.
2. Gila/shikwa is as much human as is gratitude. Quran talks about Musa's prayers, about Yahya's pleas, about Yaqoob's anguish... only to teach us that disappointments are real and legit. We don't have to deny them. We only have to learn how to behave when we face one. How to channel that dark energy.
3. Jis ki aazmaish ata kay zariay ho, uski degree of difficulty meray aur apkay imtehaan say zayada honay ki probability high hai.
Sochain us ghareeb ki pakar kis kis baat pe ho sakti hai? To feel superior, to not be befittingly grateful, to not be humble enough, to not keep in line with the decorum of the honour bestowed.
4. It is not always a bad deal to be a back bencher, as long as you manage to attend the class.
5. Walking a certain path, could very well be a privilege, an honour, a gift, in its own right. There's no question of worth or un-worth.
I'll let Rumi answer this: https://leenahnasir.blogspot.com/2009/11/love-dogs-rumi.html
6. Pray for the bureaucrat sb. :)
He might benefit from it. So would you.

The person replied with a one-liner message:

My longing is my reward?

I wrote back:

Yes. :) 

Alhamdulillah 

Check this out when you have time: https://soundcloud.com/ell_enn/wasif-ali-wasif-intezaar

Got this a while later:

Alhumdullilah :) 

Aap ne mujhe aasani Di Allah aap k liye aasani kare leenah. JazakAllah.

Putting it up here as a reminder to every heart, including my own, in their dark night of faith.

From Every Deep Ravine

There is this ayah from Surat al-Hajj of Qur'an: 

وَأَذِّن فِي النَّاسِ بِالْحَجِّ يَأْتُوكَ رِجَالًا وَعَلَىٰ كُلِّ ضَامِرٍ يَأْتِينَ مِن كُلِّ فَجٍّ عَمِيق

22:27

Muhammad Asad translates it as:

Hence, [O Muhammad,] proclaim thou unto all people the [duty of] pilgrimage: they will come unto thee on foot and on every [kind of] fast mount, coming **from every far-away point [on earth]**

Pickthall translates it as: 

And proclaim unto mankind the pilgrimage. They will come unto thee on foot and on every lean camel; they will come **from every deep ravine**

The aacompanying calligraphy is the last four words of this aya: 

"min kulli fajjin 'amiq" من كل فج عميق

Calligraphed by (Mehmed) Ali Alparslan (b. 1340 AH/1925 CE, d. 1426/January 24,2006), in the Ta'lik script in 1426 AH/ 2005-06 CE, the final year of his life. 

Signed: Composed by 'Ali, the student of Necmeddin نمقه علي تلميذ نجم الدين

From the perspective of art, a creative aspect of this calligraphy is that although the final letter of each of the four words of this calligraphy is different, Ali Alparslan enabled the final letter of each word to share it.

Do you see the significance of these four words?

We, the pilgrims, the followers of the Path, are meant to keep our journeys of soul intact ... from every far-away point, from every deep ravine, be that of an anguished heart or of a troubled mind or of the geographical coordinates, the journey goes on. The pilgrim marches on ... to submitting to a Purpose.

So if the day is dark, or the path is difficult, regress not. Call upon your Rab, Who promises to respond every single one calling unto Him, no matter how feeble the calling, how distant the voice! And He shall carve a course leading you out from every deep ravine, every far-away point.

 

This calligraphy is the marker of our coordinates of hazoori -irrespective of our spiritual, mental and physical coordinates- and from here we all assemble to mark our haazri in His court of benevolence. 

Immensely grateful to Sayyadi Professor Alan Godlas for inspiring with this fabulous calligraphic piece. 

Original image from: https://www.alifart.com/pictures/product/K1106-012xx.jpg

Howay Shirk Ayyaan Jay Main Howaan

Some months ago I was reading the book Essential Sufism, authored by James Fadiman and Robert Frager, and happened to post an image somewhere with the following caption: 

When we performed Hajj in 2004, my mother was 47. I was 22, too energetic and too impatient to wait to let everyone pass. Why? I'd protest. 'Because they're in a hurry.' So are we, I'd sulk.'Are we? What for?' She'd smile gently at me ... 'sabr, meri jaan, sabr!' At that stage of life, the meanings I associated with 'sabr' had all negative connotations: the dignified garment of a powerless victim. It is now, that I've learnt what degree of strength it takes for one to let the Providence be one's only focus. There exists nothing else, except the thought of being in Presence and therefore you let go of everything that distracts you from it. Imagine the energy it takes to be so singularly focussed. Every move you make is with a purpose - to enhance your Presence. I learnt this lesson from my mother, whom I didn't recognise as a book reader. :)

Someone wrote to me asking the question this caption had triggered for them.

Assalamoalikum .I have two questions regarding your post at xxxxx . Sorry I didn't feel comfortable asking in the comments . Please feel free to ignore these if it's against your principles to discuss things this way 
When you used the term providence is this a translation of Rab? And have you tried to forget everything and remain aware of only him . How does one do that ? Your post was actually at a very opportune time . I was travelling to distract myself , to think about why I am stuck , and not moving forward. I read this sentence that" desire and unhappiness are congenital twins . Then I read your post . I am so tired

I wrote back:

Wassalam xxxxxx, 
I'm glad that you connected with the words and want to internalize the connection. I'd be honored if I could become a channel. 
Yes, I used Providence to refer to Rab, the Sustainer. 
To the second question I am afraid I do not have a straight answer. What is the recipe for making a stone in a water stream, in a riverbed, rounded? 
There is no cure, no dawa, no daru that exists outside of yourself. I have looked for any ready made solution for years. I didn't find any. Siwaey submission kay. 
Rab apko kaafi ho, har haal main har muqaam par. ameen. مَا وَدَّعَكَ رَبُّكَ وَمَا قَلَى

A one liner reply popped in my mailbox:

Dar sirf ye he k pathar gol hone se pehle toot na jae

Don't we all recognize this fear :) 
I wrote:

Itemenaan rakhain, aur kisi waswasay ko dil main na aanay dain.Rab ka promise hai: لَا يُكَلِّفُ اللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا
Bus aik baat nahi bhoolni ap nay ... even when you are not happy with yourself for trying hard enough, HE is keeping a track of all the effort you make ... even the one smaller than a dust particle. Even as small as smiling at a young one when you don't feel like it. HE knows.

Putting it up here as a reminder to every heart, including my own, in their dark night of faith.  

Image: Photography by Rudy Oei, East Java, Indonesia.

Time - The Custodian of Experiences

The message read:

Honest opinion Required. 
"What do you all think about the phrase, 'WAQT KE SATH KHUDI SUB THEEK HOJATA HAI?' Is it really applicable or do you all think its just a way to build your stamina etc?"

I wrote back:

We misuse the statement "waqt kay sath sab kuch khud hi theek ho jata hai". This statement is flawed because that makes us a passive participant of the situations we're facing.
What the original idea of the statement is: 'give it time and with an unclouded mind you'll come to understand why a particular scenario unfolded the way it did. You'll find healing in that understanding.' Time in itself is no magic wand: For a person never letting go of bitter memories, even 100 years won't make a dent in his state of rancour. Time, however, is custodian of experiences.
Prophet Yusuf spent almost a decade in jail, forgotten and helpless. Prophet Musa turned into a fugitive running for his life in a strange land, friendless and alone. Prophet Muhammad was stoned till blood glued his soles and shoes, he even called a year 'the year of grief', forlorn and devastated.
Did waqt kay sath khudi sab theek hoa un kay liay? Waqt kay sath ye understanding clear hoi that the most painful episode was the most significant milestone to enable them to reach where they were meant to be.
Waqt is only a tool. It is not a tabib. It is a dawa. You decide if you want to use it as per the TABIB's prescription, or not.
There is a course available at the Coursera platform, Learning How to Learn (you can take the course for free if you are not opting to get its certificate). I especially loved one specific bit of insight Dr.Terrence Sejnowski shared. Terry is a neuroscientist and he talks about the structure of our memory cells and how does our mind respond to our learning habits. He asked, 'if you are a couch-potato, and want to take part in a 10 km marathon, when will you start training for it? Is it going to be a day before the marathon?' Obviously not. We need time to train our muscles to grow into a particular way, to have enough strength. Terry then suggests considering how much of this preparatory routine do we offer to our thinking muscles. :) Time kay sath khudi kuch theek nahi hota. Time ko efficiently invest karna hota hai.
If it is about a particular set of circumstances, see where and how you can create your window of light. And perhaps once you receive sufficient light and your heart thrives in it, you'll discover that the circumstances you were finding ominously dark, don't even amount to anything now. As the Banyan tree grows, it out sizes the little pebbles that had once threatened its sprouting seed.  

Putting it up here as a reminder to every heart, including my own, in their dark night of faith.  

Image credits: Josep María Mompart

Faith Begets Joy ... That's How The Dynamics Work

A couple of weeks ago I had posted the above image somewhere with the following caption: 

Abu Sa‘id al-Kharraz (d. 899) in his Book of Truthfulness writes: “When a man is truthful in his love (of God), there emerges between him and God, most High, a partnership of surrender … he has trust in the excellent choice of the one whom He loves. He abides in his excellent direction, and tastes the food of existence through Him.” As a consequence, “his heart is filled with joy, bliss, and happiness.” 

When Abu ‘Uthman al-Ḥiri (d. 910) declared, “During the last forty years God has never placed me in a state that I disliked, or transferred me to another state which I resented,” Hujwiri indicated that his words signified “continual satisfaction and perfect love.” It was such an intense experience of love that allowed Rabi‘a, famous for her role in the development of the love tradition to state that the aspirant must find equal joy in both the tribulations and the blessings, because they both have their origin in the Beloved.

Someone who happened to follow the online space, and wasn't a personal acquaintance, recently wrote to me asking clarity over this. 

The person wrote:

I have a question In reference to this post.

How can one achieve the truthfulness, the trust  that you mention. So far all I can manage is forcing myself not to think negatively that is I'll tell myself k though it hurts me it bothers me but He knows the best it's for the ultimate good, that this is taking me to where I am destined to be but I can't shake the feeling that I am faking it because I have read that this is how I should feel. I  can feel that my submission is fake or halfhearted. I used to complaint to Allah before you know tell him k aap ne acha nahi Kia now I can't do that because I know otherwise.

I wrote back to the person.

MashaAllah... do you see that journey you've made? Notice that, and just keep at that.
Being 'aware' of "faking" it is a faithful's ultimate gift. :)
You've been working on a transition of heart, as long as you're not sure of it's perfection, you'll keep working to make it better. Allah, very kindly, promises that HIS standards of evaluation are based on our strengths of niyyah, and not on the wholensomeess of our acts. Do you notice how that puts you in the good quadrant of graph documenting performance of people?

The problem we all actually encounter is, we think of learning/adopting behaviours as a single act that we perform in a single go - like ringing a door bell: press the button and DING DONG.
Nothing is farther from truth.
Learning/adopting behaviours is a continuous process. You're learning a whole new love language. You'll learn the vocabulary, the semantics, the pronunciation, the nuisance of expressions... it's a journey.
And you're at it.
Alhamdulillah.
Congratulate your heart putting in all that effort. :)
And be kind to it please. It's a long walk. 

Putting it up here as a reminder to every heart, including my own, in their dark night of faith. 

Reality

It was not my usual path. The road is out of way for any school, office traffic in the early morning hours. I don't recall how did I end up taking that way to work. 

The old man sat head bent, on the sidewalk outside a crumbling, deserted cinema; with a shabby sack and an armload of shabbier, dim, old, used stuffed toys. No customers, no chance of a sale. Just a gloom ridden background, and an equally fragmented foreground. 

The visual was quite out of a painting, if you ask me. Or perhaps it could have been a Majid Majidi film. Who knows how to define reality, really?

I slowed down driving past him ... just to be sure that he was ok. The old man raised his head slightly from the resting position at his knees and asked, "chahiyain?" 

No, I shook my head. 

He went back to his earlier posture. 

I drove a few meters ahead but couldn't manage any further. Reversing the car, I stopped in front of him again. He looked up, this time only his eyes talking. 'What now?' They seemed to ask.

I suggested a deal. 

When his hand reached for the bill in my hand, he didn't hold it. He touched it and keeping his touch there, without taking the bill from me, he sobbed, "Allah Madina dikhaey! Allah Madina dikhaey!"

The bill shook between our fingers.

I had a difficult drive on my way ahead. I had a difficult day getting over that moment. Quite honestly, I'm still struggling. 

Who purchases Madina on a deserted street outside a forlorn cinema at 8 in the morning, with a grimed, crumpled note? 

Who knows how to define reality, really?

(This is the story of a happening on March 22nd, 2019. It had been in my drafts folder since then, when I had shared it in my online book club. Putting it here now.) 

Your Name

In all the languages you speak,
in all those I remember,
No word contained the texture of kiss. 

Of all the ages you've traveled,
of all the times I've existed,
No moment froze the scent of lilac.

Under all the nights, through all the days,
In maps traversing land and milky ways
No star shone so bright
like the sun that rises
every night when I make my home
along the shores of your heart beat.
There, nestled under the open skies
of mating want and surrender,
At the cusp of divinity and earthiness,
I smell Lilac.
I say your name.

- leenah.

A Glimpse Into Iqbal's Letters to The Women He Adored

This is the Iqbal we normally are not aware of.

Read out only two excerpts here. There were more. Some depict even more neediness... to the extent that it pierces through your heart!

Fetch The Horizon

To be a sensitive individual in a, generally, unforgiving world can trigger situations demanding considerations of great depth and resonance.
While endless intellectualization of the details and enormous question marks of our lives comes natural to us, it is the ability to harbor faith into the unresolved as not a sphere of fear, which is the ultimate act of Becoming.

Today I came across a passage of a letter Rainer Maria Rilke wrote to a struggling young poet, and for a moment there I was the only addressee of this letter.
I've read it uncountable times since then and would like to share it with you too!

 

Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away... and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast.... be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.... and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it. 

 
Fetch the horizon, I think to myself as I conclude the read. 

What If?

He said to her, “Who are you going to believe? The mirror, a photograph, or the eyes of the man who thinks you're the most beautiful woman on the planet?"

So, who are you going to believe?

Completely Changed

An eye is meant to see things.

The soul is here for its own joy.

A head has one use: For loving a true love.

Feet: To chase after.

Love is for vanishing into the sky. The mind,

for learning what men have done and tried to do.

Mysteries are not to be solved: The eye goes blind

when it only wants to see why.

A lover is always accused of something.

But when he finds his love, whatever was lost

in the looking comes back completely changed.

― Rumi

Of Wine And The Beaker

I am a lover ...
Those who are enlightened
know that Layla and I
are one and the same.

Whoever is loved is beautiful, but the reverse is not true: it does not follow that anyone who is beautiful is loved. Beauty is a part of being loved. As being loved is the root, when an object is loved it follows that it is beautiful. The part cannot be separated from the whole since it derives from the whole.

In Majnun's time there were girls who were much more beautiful than Layla, but they were not loved by Majnun. People used to say to him, 'There are girls more beautiful than Layla. Let us bring them to you.'

'I do not love Layla for her external appearance,' Majnun would reply. 'Layla is not external form. She is like a drinking vessel held in my hand, a beaker from which I drink wine. I am in love with the wine I drink from the beaker, but you see only the beaker and not the wine. If I had a golden beaker studded with precious gems, and it were filled with vinegar or something other than wine, of what use would that beaker be to me? To my eyes a broken old gourd filled wine is better than a hundred such goblets.'

You need love's yearning to see the difference between the wine and the beaker.



~ The Essence of Rumi by John Baldock.

Lazzat-e Safar

لیکن مجھے ہمیشہ اپنے اندر ایک خلا کا احساس ہوا اور باہر سناٹا ۔
اندر کی کائنات اتر کر خلا میں پہنچنے کی جستجو کرتا تھا ۔
لیکن اس کے لیے جس مراقبے اور مکاشفے کی ضرورت ہے ، اس کی ہمت نہ تھی ۔
میرا حال یہ ہے کہ درویشی کا ظرف نہ تھا ، اور دنیا داری کا سلیقہ نہپیں ۔
سو ساری زندگی رسے پر ڈولتے گذر گئی ۔
لیکن نا معلوم کو جاننے کا ایسا چسکا ہے کہ میں کبھی ڈرتے ڈرتے آہستہ آہستہ اور کبھی تیز تیز بے خوف اندر کی غار میں چھلانگ لگا لیتا ہوں ۔
کبھی کچھ ہاتھ آتا ہے کبھی خالی ہاتھ ہی لوٹنا پڑتا ہے ۔
لیکن سفر کی اپنی ایک لذت تو ہے ہی ۔ کبھی کبھی چھپ چھپ کر سب سے چوری چوری نماز پڑھنے اور اس کے نام کا چپکے چپکے ، اندر ہی اندر ورد کرنے کا بھی ایک مزہ ہے ۔ 
اس عشق کی طرح جسے چھپانے کا لطف ہوتا ہے ۔

عشق کی تشہیر بھی ایک مزہ رکھتی ہے ۔ 
اور اس کا اخفاء بھی اپنی ہی ایک لذت رکھتا ہے ۔

تمنا بے تاب "رشید امجد"

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GUEST BLOG POST 

This Guy’s Wife Got Cancer, So He Did Something Unforgettable, The Last 3 Photos Destroyed Me.

The first time photographer Angelo Merendino met Jennifer, he knew she was the one. They fell in love and got married in New York’s Central Park, surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones.

Five months later Jen was diagnosed with breast cancer. From Angelo’s blog: “I remember the exact moment…Jen’s voice and the numb feeling that enveloped me. That feeling has never left. I’ll also never forget how we looked into each other’s eyes and held each other’s hands. ‘We are together, we’ll be OK.’”

Throughout her battle, Angelo decided to photograph it. He wanted to humanize the face of cancer on the face of his wife. The photos speak for themselves.

Angelo and Jennifer’s story is tragic, but it’s in the face of a tragedy such as this that we rise above.

In Angelo’s case, he has started an organization to help women with their financial struggles during their trials with breast cancer.

Photo Credits: Angelo Merendino

Sourced via: http://beyondblindfold.com

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I want to see you.

Know your voice.

Recognize you when you

first come 'round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come

into a room you've just left.

Know the lift of your heel,

the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way

you purse your lips

then let them part,

just the slightest bit,

when I lean in to your space

and kiss you.

I want to know the joy

of how you whisper

"more."

- Rumi

Because Love Is Ether

And that's how Poe talked about Lee:

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me

- Edgar Allan Poe