All roads lead to Home

A friend was dropping me home late night once, and the traffic at 12 in the night was chocobloc.

"There's so much traffic towards your house so late in the night even??"

"Yeps,..all roads lead to home."

Which got me thinking, maybe all roads do lead to home. Anyone who has read the alchemist by paulo coelho, would agree with me.Eventually,..after all the soul searching, finding oneself..we do end up right where we started...Home. But then, none of us can accept that without venturing out first, it's really in the journey that we find ourselves, not in the destination. Everything needs to be far for it to be valued correctly, same is the case with home. we don't really give it its due, and take it for granted more often than not. Until we end up back to it, with a new perspective.

How do you define home - is it where the heart is? but then your heart is where you are, doesn't it go with you wherever you go? perhaps it doesn't and so we have an aching feeling in our chests then..it's not our heart hurting..it's us missing our heart which is not with us.I suppose it's easy for people born and brought up in their home countries, for expatriates and immigrants, it can get very confusing - having to deal with two countries as home, and not really being sure sometimes.

A home should be your own, not a place you can be evicted from depending on visa restrictions. A home should be a place you can go to anytime of the day,month, year..being dead sure they will take you in. then again, a home should be where your memories are, where you laughed, cried and dreamt. A home should be not necessarily where your heart wants to stay , but where it wants to come back to...

Home may not be a country, it may not even be a house.home may not be where our heart is, but our home is where our loved ones are.

Our homes define us. we may not like the definition, but that's another point.
We are our homes, ultimately.

- Arshad Iqbal

17th Oct 2006

Mira Nair's "The Namesake" should be a film to watch out for, shedding some viewpoints on what's a home. Check it out.

So that's what corners are for!!

"I don't love myself"
"If you don't love yourself, how can others love you?"

                   Isn't it harder to love someone who doesn't love himself? To love someone who loves himself sounds easy, does it not? Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone. If you want to cry,find yourself a corner to cry in. No sense being a nuisance to others with your tears, if you loved yourself, so would others. then you wouldn't have to cry. The problem is where do you find a corner to cry in where you can't find yourself? Where you can escape from yourself? Because you are crying because of yourself, not due to others.

                   The best friend who left you, how do you stop cryign after they are gone? how do you cope with something you couldn't imagine before it happened?Time seems to move in slow motion does it not? your actions seem so deliberate, as if you can notice your brain giving orders to your hand to move. Sadly, your brain can't give orders to your eyes not to cry. Eyes seem to have a life of their own. Tears flow freely even when you don't want them to, and stop for no reason, and then start again for none. your eyes get a life of their own, seething with anger at one time, crying and hoping plaintively the next, sometimes a mix of both.

"The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of" - Blaise Pascal

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
-Alexander Pope

- Arshad Iqbal
24th September 2006.

Breakdown

                   Have you ever been on the verge of breaking down? When you feel like just curling into yourself and crying yourself to sleep ? It's like something happens which you can't understand at all..and it hurts. It hurts you so much, you feel if only it would be just a bad dream..if you could only open your eyes and it would all go away? Sadly, your eyes are already open and its not a dream...but you wish it was. You wish so much it was. the experience shows you emotions you never thought yourself capable of..feelings you didn't think you would ever feel..thoughts you never thought you would think..words you never thought you would utter...ever.

                   And then when it gets better..your thoughts keep going back to how it was..trying to analyze it ..somehow understand it..to prevent it from happening again..and yet you cant..remembering it just seems to keep it with you..even though you don't want to..somehow..you keep thinking about it..even though you are so scared of it happening again...Have you ever been on the verge of breaking down?

Ofcourse you have...that's life.

- Arshad Iqbal
9th August 2006

Imagine

Everything you can imagine is real - Pablo Picasso

                   Imagine a young girl living her life, family , friends..full of potential, enjoying her life. Imagine she has a car accident due to no fault of hers. Imagine the other driver was drunk while driving and her car bursts into flames. Imagine she is trapped in the blazing car for 45 seconds in intense heat. Imagine a second of intense heat and then imagine 45 seconds of intense heat. Imagine by the time she is rescued she has 60% severe burnings on her body. Imagine she has to undergo 40 operations to save her.Imagine her father has to put eye drops in her eyes to prevent them from getting worse because her eyelids are burnt. Imagine her face is so burnt she has to wear a mask - Imagine you don't have to imagine, it's real.

                   Imagine you are the other driver. Imagine living the rest of your life rueing the "one for the road". Imagine cursing yourself every second for drinking and driving. Imagine living with the guilt every second of every minute of every hour for the rest of your life.Imagine being so helpless even crying does not comfort you.

                   Imagining is easy. Imagine you don't have to imagine.

Please don't drink and drive.
For the sake of others.

- Arshad Iqbal
8th August 2006.

Musafir

wahan kaun hai tera, musafir, jaayega kahan..
dum lele ghadi bhar, yeh chaiyyan..paayega kahan

--Shailendra
The Guide

Sometimes I feel like I'm never content where ever I am..I just have to be somewhere else ..always..and its not a nice thought..that you are not where you would like to be..I guess hardly anyone is really where they would like to be..maybe a few lucky persons are..or is it their attitudes?to want to be where they are BECAUSE that's where they are ..? If someone likes travelling..does it mean they dont like being home?..or it could also mean they like home so much..they want to arrive back again and again...

This song is very nice , from the movie guide..and sung beautifully by S.D. Burman ..

"who's there of yours? O traveller ..where will you go...."
"take rest a moment..this shade..where will u get ..."

And it goes on beautifully..as if a traveller walking into the sun...towards the destination he believes is still there somewhere..."the heart has its reasons, which reason fails to understand"..perhaps its the same with our thoughts, always feeling I have to be somewhere..when I want to be where I really am ....I wonder..

To never be where you want to be.. I know how that feels.


Arshad Iqbal
26th May, 2006

Woods were bright n Nice

The woods were full,
light and shallow.
And I had nowhere to go,
and just to sleep.

                   Well...atleast it's not plagiarism..maybe inspiration.. but that's poetic license.After all, copyright is my fundamental right and I shall have it - Right to Copy!..

                   So many thoughts, so many ideas..just brimming around in the air, so many things you want to do, so many more you have to do and so many you avoid..the world's your oyster,imperfect one perhaps,but all oysters have potentials of pearls,just have to be patient.

                   Boy, I'm optimistic today, wonder why.. maybe because things aren't going well, and when they don't and you've tried all you could.. a smirk comes on your face.As if you're telling yourself, "So Mr. KnowItAll, thought it would work, didn't you?", maybe its because we feel deep down in our hearts, even if it ain't working now, it'll work later hopefully..hope springs eternal, "ummeed pe duniya kaym hai"..I've been writing this since yesterday, but today I felt good.

                   Had to run an errand in the morning(lolz, wonder why it's called 'errand', you 'err' and then go 'and then that happened, ..not my fault!"...), and I felt nice. Driving through not too much traffic, awesome music, felt like everything was nice..you know, the feeling you get when you're on top of everything, and you're like, "bring it on, world, let's see the best you've got!"..something like that. Life .. or something like it.


Arshad Iqbal
8th March 2006

Whose Life is it, Anyway!!

"What is this Life, if full of care?
we have no time to stand and stare"

                   I'm sure the author intended well, but then what if life is not full of care? Wouldn't it be empty? and we would just stand and stare, tempting idea really, nothing to do .. and nothing to care about.Makes you wonder about Life, its purpose, our purpose,..and then is there any purpose at all?

                   One thing's certain about life though..No, not that it's uncertain, although that's very true, but that it's finite, limited.. limited seconds, limited minutes, hours, days,months, years..and what about the feelings, emotions..I guess for the person living them, they are finite..but they do stay after the person is gone too..in the memories of those left behind.And then even after that, memories of memories being told..seems such a huge responsibility in a way,doesn't it? A persons actions would be analzed and thought about, long after he's gone ..you don't get a chance to justify anything..to collect accolades of good stuff done, nothing, zilch.

                   If you think too much about it, I guess you end up doing nothing ... and if u think too less about it, also you end up doing nothing."Seize the day" sounds good, but once you've seized it, what do you hold on to? So many things to do, so many roles to play and if its roles we are "play'ing, we must have fun, shouldn't we? So many things to do,feel, explore..such a huge world outside for one little life and so many huge worlds inside a Life, It amazes me, people can stay in the same city, street, building..flat even and yet have so different outlooks in life, same choices, different options to choose from..same questions, different answers to lie to oneself with..same rules, different exceptions to them..

                   As a good friend says,"These ARE the good times, just you wait and see!"....Life doesn't come with a handy instructions guide,...yet to figure out if that's a bad thing or a good thing, then again, maybe it does, but the instruction guide's usually with the owner,so, .....Whose Life is it, Anyway!!


Arshad Iqbal
5th March, 2006.

Change

                    As timeless as time, the only thing constant in life is change. Life changes when people change, when their feelings change. And the change is so sublime, so slow and gradual, sometimes we never feel it. That’s the beauty of it & tragedy as well. Beauty when we fall in love, tragedy when we fall out of love.

                    It’s as if we have no control over our feelings, just our tears. And the tough part is that, love is such an emotion, that if the person you love doesn’t love you anymore, you’re helpless. Your hearts like a crushed heart - not broken and not full. And there’s no one to blame for it, as it isn’t anyone’s fault. It just … is. Perhaps it’s more worse than it was lovely when you fell in love, because, when you fall in love, its so unknown, there are so many ‘maybe’s, but when you fall out of love, you know exactly what you are losing out on. I think that’s more tough as in the former you’ve only got hopes, whereas in the latter, you’ve got memories.

                    "Memories of the good times we’ve shared together, memories that are as much a part of you as they are of Me." wrote someone once. Aren’t memories supposed to help you forget? That makes a bit of sense, the good memories help you forget the bad ones. The good get better, and the bad disappear… almost.


Arshad Iqbal

19th September, 2005

A Friend

                                       What is a friend? A friend is someone .... who listens more than she speaks, who understands more than she listens, who cares more than she understands. What is a friend? , if not an extension of yourself, some one you care about more than for yourself, someone whose happiness is more important than your own, someone you like more than yourself. What is a friend? , if not just yourself in another body?

                                       I met a new friend today.Is that possible? Meeting a new friend? Because when you meet someone he/she is not your friend at that instance of time. I like to believe its possible, its possible because sometimes we just click with some people. Call it chemistry, call it what you will, sometimes we just like certain people.We know from the first instant that we will like the person, we will like the friendship, we want to take that risk, because it doesn't seem like a risk at all to us.


Arshad Iqbal

Rivers, Oceans, Mountains, Plains.

                                       Rivers, Oceans, Mountains, Plains. There’s a remarkable beauty in nature. An assurance that each beauty has a purpose and all of them when perceived together present such a unique picture of this world. They have this feeling of security in them … no matter how much you ignore them, they’ll always be there. Eternal witnesses of mortal memories. As time passes, people change & even memories do. Sweet memories turn even sweeter and sour ones not so bitter. A person’s only true possessions are his memories. Remembrances of his own life borne out of his own experiences & feelings. We must never cling to our memories but let them go to make place for new ones.

                                       Sometimes, memories can be a person’s only friends. They say you can never have too many friends. So, does it follow, you can never have too many memories? Even though it may seem impossible at times, but weren’t friends strangers at one time? Strangers who might have gone different ways on different paths never to cross again. I guess the same can be said of friends too – Strangers whose paths crossed for some brief moments in time (compared to an eternity, of course), perhaps never to meet again. If the world is really round, those paths must cross again. They are bound to cross again and they will.One day…. Someday.


Arshad Iqbal
22nd August, 2000.

Rivers - Poetry in Motion

                                       Lets take a trip into a mystical world where fantasies are real and the world of reality is absurd. Where dreams are fulfilled beyond expectations & nature is in its purest form. Where problems of reality are non-existent, peace and harmony are prevalent everywhere. If such a world would be, we could experience the marvels of nature in all their glory and be in awe of their majestic splendour. We could be enamoured by butterflies and their colours, Birds and their wings, all completely oblivious of their own beauty; and yet making this unique world, perfect. Just perfect.

                                       The sun, the moon, the mountains, their majesty untold. A greater mind than yours and mine has planned it such. And the rivers, an unparalleled mystery, an enigma which blatantly refuses to be solved, with their characteristic defiant nature. If I may be bold enough to personify a river, what would she look like? Your guess is as good as mine.

                                       All over the world, rivers have been honoured, mystified & liked for reasons as varied as their own nature. Be it the Ganges in India or the Mississippi in America, Beautiful stories have been written on them, which further exemplify their already mystical nature. They can be smooth, they can be turbulent. They can be rude, stubborn but they can also encompass the true meaning of life. They can be so full of life, so bubbly all the while knowing the utter futility of it all. They originate from streams as small as pencils and they end up in the wide blue ocean. Often a passing traveller will partake their crystal clear water, quench his thirst and walk on, leaving behind the river to peddle back onto its original course. This reflects the selfless nature of rivers, all the while giving of themselves. Maybe sometimes even remembering the traveller in bitter-sweet memories, while the traveller too recalls a vague picture of the river after he has reached his true destination. Their paths were destined to meet for just that moment. Paths are such. Once they cross, they never meet again… Anyway, coming back to the river, is its end final? No matter how turbulent a river gets, no matter how many dams are built on it, it always reaches the sea. Why? Why is it so? Is it inevitable? Or is it because the river itself feels it as inevitable. Maybe its because it feels it was meant to join the sea. Is it not possible that the river could keep on flowing without ever losing itself in the sea? Maybe all rivers have this inborn tendency to conform to rules. They think rivers before me have done this, rivers after me will do it, and so why shan’t I?

                                       If only the river would break these superficial chains of customs and traditions. They could make this world such a beautiful place if they would. If only they would…


Arshad Iqbal

LOVE

                                       What is Love? Love is a feeling that encompasses you and yet leaves you wanting more. It’s a thought that you think and want to keep thinking forever. It’s a memory that you cherish, and want to relive once more, just once more.

                                       It’s a skip in our heartbeat, the spring in our step. It’s the feel of a friend’s concerned hug, like when a baby child grasps your finger and won’t let go. The feel of a caring head on your chest. It’s like the first droplet of rain, the first ray of morning.

                                       Your first tickle, your first uncontrollable laugh. The first snowball thrown at you. Your first date, your first crush. The first smile you got after you smiled. The first time you were happily helpless. The first time you were shy, the first time someone smiled shyly back at you. Love is … Lovely.

Arshad Iqbal

School Thoughts

A 6 yr old child grudgingly trudges of to school for the first time. Twelve years and immeasurable knowledge later, the same routine is repeated but for the last time. To encompass his thoughts , his feelings at that point of time into a few lines is impossible.

During those past 12 years, the child witnesses human emotions in their true forms. Selfless love, jealousy, anger, you name it and he experiences it during those years. The point I’m trying to make is that the school is not just a building which imparts knowledge. No, it holds much more value than that. It’s a place where dreams are realized & bonds strengthened.

Life’s a funny thing. All these years you can’t wait to get out of school, and now , when you finally do, you can’t realize how fast these years passed by. It’s something like not having your cake and not eating it either. I think I speak for all when I say we’ll miss these hallowed halls & the teachers who made them extra special.

They say, "Letting go is a process of growing up". As we grow up, slowly, little by little, we let go of our friends, our teachers & all the people who really matter to us. If letting go is a part of growing up, I hope, lets all hope with all our hearts, we never grow up.

Thank you & Best of Luck.

Arshad Iqbal

And so it begins .....

Its finally out! Due to public demand and unprecedented anticipation, the first installment of the Thoughts Journal is out . The first few entries .... or rather lots of them ... will be old writings ... thoughts .... and then hopefully, it'll be done on a daily basis , lolz, "Man proposes .."

Arshad Iqbal
August 5, 2005