love by khurram

8/3/2019 Love by Khurram

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It is like a wind that blows into your sails and carries you away with it. Propelling you

through achievement and leading you to victory. At times, intoxicating, so that you lose the

power to decide sanely; and see, only that you want to see; and hear ,only that you want to

hear. Such that ones ideals appear to be gods. Whose greatness, is beyond question. Such

that their faults and follies are obscured from ones vision. And there are times, when it is justsuch an insanity that ensures complete dedication.

Of an angelical childWith eyes, a golden mild

And curls, so very brown

As if a goddess crown

They say, youre in love with a person. I say, it is the perception of that person, that

thing, that ideology, that youre in love with. Socialists for instance, are mesmerized, by the

dream of a classless society, of equality among men, of a welfare state supportive of all, of a

life free of the aggressive competition that they associate with capitalism and private

ownership. To them, the grave problems that have appeared in the course of the realization oftheir dream, seem trivial matters. We all are, a little awed, to be true, by the magnitude of the

change Marx and Egnels have promised. As such, Love appears to have a palliative character,

that , makes the lover see the object of his affections to be free of shortfalls. Almost, as if in a

dream.

Imagination, dwelling on anabsent object of affection, paints her not only in the fairest light, but

in that in which we most desire to behold her.- Sir Walter Scott

However, it is also true, that an illusion or an intoxication cannot be sustained for an

indefinite period of time. At one point or the other, there comes a time inevitable, that the

effects of any seductive drug, if one may dare to put it like that, start to wear out. In more

relevant terms, there is such a point in your dream, where the illusionfails. Where one can

see a breach in ones perception of perfectness. It is this tearin the canvas that one willingly

or unwillingly looks through. And can see the appalling realities that had existed and thrived

under the cover of dizzy wishfulness.

To me, this point in ones life, is the most painful of all. When a matter, most trivial

and otherwise easily ignored, or on the contrary: one of grave consequence, gives way to a

world of subtle reality. It is quite moving, to discover, of a sudden, that the object of your

aspirations, had ceased to exist. Or worse, had never existed at all, save for in your

imagination and in your dreams. I have seen dreams clear up as if were of the substance of amorning mist. When the first stupors of grief have passed. Their place is taken up by a more

guarded stance towards life. Guarded and suspicious of all, of the world that seems to have

got the better of us.

It was fairy tale

Unlike Id ever heard

A fairy tale, the same

And who might be to blame

For tales do always End.

Many a times in tears

Just once a while in smiles.


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There is the story of a girl who asked her mother about love. And got an answer that

Love is an illusion. But maWhat of lasting love then?, she asks. And the mother says:

It is a lasting illusion.

Is it really so? That the ritual of Love, is a waste and no more. That rends your heart

and leaves you hurt?

Perhaps not, at least not always.What of lasting love then? As she asks.

What then of the devotion of generations and generations of disciples to the Mystics and

Saints who have long departed? What of the people, who consider themselves wealthy, even

though they have little in terms of worldly wealth? What of the followers of blessed men as

Ali Hajveri and Sultan Bahu, as Lal Shehbaz and Waris Shah, whose belief is all Love. The

Love of humanity and the Love of God.

Perhaps love is everlasting, if your dreams are close to the real substance of the

Object of your aspirations. If your feelings are reciprocated in a fashion similar to the one in

which they were expressed.

It is in the pursuit of such affection that we keep Cupids ritual alive. That we fall inLove: again, and again, and again. I have read somewhere, that love feeds the soul as food

and air and water sustain the body. To me, the first youthful outbursts of affection, however

condemned, though very raw of form, are very original of substance. It is through the

continual process of failure and success ,of heart breaking and making ,of the momentary

happiness and lasting pain, of trial and error, that the emotion is purified. That the

understanding of this emotion grows, and we realize its divine nature.

all that has gone by in madness, has been worthwhile, though it has grieved my heart a lot

-Faiz

Id like to think of the experience of falling in Love, or for that matter, the translation

of any other emotion in action, as a scientific experiment. Where one builds a hypothesis

about a person, a thing, an ideology, and predicts the response of the same to the expression

ofones commitment. Then puts it to the test. The results may confirm or reject the

predictions. We may see our feelings reciprocated with equal or lesser vigor, Or we may see

them sink into darkness and be lost in an unworthy cause. In either case, we have learnt

something. We have advanced a degree further in the understanding of a fellow human being,

the society, the complexity of the universe, the randomness of the age. How, through time,

people change. How, in time, values change. How the very morals, upon which people had

once based their lives, have changed.

In fact, Life is nothing but change. Nothing but variation, seemingly systematic, or

otherwise. Arguably all changes, even the sudden ones, have an underlying pattern. They

havent been conjured out of the blue, but have followed a scheme, complex and subtle: As if

continually being queued up in the challenges that the Human race is destined to face.

Brought about by the inertia of Nature and partly through human undertakings, both

constructive and destructive. These are the patterns that we strive to trace, the changes that

we undertake to study, All our life. And Love, presents itself at times, as just another tool of

acquiring this knowledge.

Now, to speak of a matter very near to my heart. Each time that one falls in love,

Id like to think of it as a thing that has a deeper meaning and a higher purpose to it. For if itis not that, why is it that we fall for seeming charms and beautiful words. Why is it that we


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gaze into hazel eyes, desiring to see the depths that are beneath them or the shallowness that

they hide. Why is it that we bend down to smell every flower ,to see if it smells as sweet as

the beauty that constitutes its form. Perhaps were searching. Each and every one of us. For a

Truth ,that hides itself in the nobility of features; in the rhymes of words; in the rhythm of a

song. That shows itself in the creativity of an artist. Whenever you find yourself awed by the

beauty of a work of art, you are invariably captivated by the mastery and skill of the artist, bythe manner in which the brush has been set to strokes in a painting; by the way a sculpture

has been carved from raw form into a fine piece of art.

The painting, or the sculpture, or the poem, or the song is where a part of artist hides.

Hides away from the eyes of the ignorant world. Hides, where only his admirers can see

him. For, an artist resides in his masterpieces. For, you can see a creator in each and every

one of his creations. There are those who can see the Master Artist in every flower that

smells and every one that doesnt; in every butterfly that sits upon it ; in the seeming

simplicity and hidden complexity of the beings that we dwell amongst. And every time that

we fall for their charms, perhaps in a subtle way, it is the hidden Artist Creator, who has

aroused our affection. Though we hardly know its that. We enjoy our little experience till wereach the point where the master artist had left the brushes and chisels in the hands of His

creation, and if we find the creations choice appealing, we stay, if we dont, we move on.

However, the admiration of the Master stays. And grows, as we sift through more and more

of His work.

Perhaps that is how Love is divine, for it leads you to truth. It makes you see things

that you cannot see with your eyes . The love of God is the treasure that we have been silently

collecting all the way along. In the tears that follow a heart break, in the joys of winning the

attention of someone special to you; in the sorrow of losing it again: Love is gracefully being

purified all the while. Being baptized in the waters of literature and prose. And the Lover,

ascending the steps of a long and a lengthy staircase, leading up to his Lord Creator .

wrong is the perception that there is something else in the world besides You-Meer Dard

love by khurram

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