The Eternal Nightmare of Being – II

Emotional meltdown. Disappointment. Disappointed. All kept under the carpet with a façade of all’s good.

All’s not good. Not since… let’s say since the first rhyme in the right ear.

The destination was defined. Step by step to catastrophe of self. To annihilation of the existence. Unbeing of being.

Then there is this need to share. To woe. To slander. To get a verdict from a friend that you are doing fine. Or an affirmation from a relative that you are too good. Or someone else to confirm that there’s no fault at your end.

The idea of shrinks. There was no need of them. Then the need came with consumerism. With too much to spare and spend, came the need of shrinks for validation of all the wrongdoings that you have committed.

Even you know that. You hide your bad deeds. Tell bad deeds of others. And the shrink keeps on stamping them. Approved. Dismissed. Move on. Be happy.

What is the purpose?

One of the finest ayahs – which comes as a reminder on my handheld daily at 9 am – in the Quran is:-

وَيْلٌۭ لِّكُلِّ هُمَزَةٍۢ لُّمَزَةٍ

Translation: Woe to every backbiter, slanderer.

Yet, you need another soul for validation. You need another slanderer to make your own faults look better. These are default settings of every human being. So, with the default needs came a product to be marketed with pretty good pricing: shrinks – psychologists and therapists.

Or you know too much. Already good to go. Handling your emotional meltdown all alone. Managing a decade of deep personal recession all alone. Without a need for a slanderer’s ear.

You can write. You can whisper. You can talk to yourself. You can talk to God – depends on the belief system you have updated inside. Your inside person will tell you better. Your own faults won’t be kept under the carpet. Your inside person will not forgive you for your sins. That person won’t let you sleep with all your wealth. You will be dependent on antidepressants and sleeping pills in a cozy expensive bed. Or you will have to bear insomnia.

Insomnias are also unexplainable. You are awake even when asleep and are asleep even when working without committing errors. Two worlds in parallel move together in insomnia and both exists. Only one is physically painful and the other one emotionally. Hence, meltdown.

Unlocks a phone and tap tap and an email is read or a text is sent and back to a small episode of sleep and later the day you see a new email but it’s open already or a sent text which you don’t remember and then your narrator self talks to Tyler Durden and things prove to be as messy as expected. Reminds me of Messi.

We are all Jack’s narration. We all have a Durden inside. You can mourn or moan. Depends on the Durden you are feeding.

Even if you have no faults and you are at the receiving end – situation remains same. Pills are needed and then they don’t work and then more pills are needed.

A shrink will make you sleep better by killing your own narrations. A complete market exists for that. Your inner person won’t let you sleep but a shrink will.

But sometimes – after months – you are pinched too hard. And then you spread venom through your tongue and burn the souls around you who were busy burning you all the time. You don’t need an ear of a human to bicker. You prefer a crowd and after all it’s better.

So much better. No slandering. No woe. Job well done. However, things and events are not sequential. It’s the second worst phase and it’s not ending. After all it’s about all the bad choices. A never ending punishment. It’s not like a 14-year or death sentence because both ends.

The trial is not even explainable. Ironically, all the characters are dependent on the protagonist – one way or the other. Even those characters who live far apart but the roles are so deeply defined that antagonists have taken the story to another level. Protagonist is the antagonist now. Not invited anymore anywhere except when needed.

Still unexplainable. Too confusing.
Bad to worse to worst. Disappointing.

Now that’s the therapy. That’s that. Too relieving. Isn’t it? Who needs another shrink – paid or unpaid – for this? Not His Highness.

Bad decisions define us. Pains define us. The words that are decorated with blood don’t come out of the stars in heaven. They come out from the inferno of heart where a fire burns all the time.

So let that be. To be. Not ‘not to be’.

All rise! And pray! “Those who keep the flames high – may peace be upon them too“. Amen!

Session dismissed. You may pay at the counter.

The Eternal Nightmare of Being

No one can know what it is to be you.
No one can know what it is to be me. To me.
How hard is it? How bad? How tough? How rough?

Can there be happiness? Eternal sunshine? Perpetual peace? Silence?

We are defined by the choices we make. And the choices we let go. Both. I wonder what the un-opted choices would have brought? Must be better. After all, you know you make the worst of the decisions.

How can you know this one is going to be the best one when you don’t even know the remaining options?

How can you choose when you have only one life? How can you evaluate the two when you are one? How can this all work, with all the blame falling on you? On us. On me. The dispensable!

This is how it is but it’s wrong. Would you do it again? Yes. You are going fine. But people don’t really mean yes. Never do.

You are not asked before life. But you can’t take one. Not even your own. The absolute slavery defines you. You can be conceived in a pit or a bed of roses but you ain’t the choice. You never were.

Have you wondered why suicide is not allowed? Because it is pleasurable. Just like all the sins in and around alcohol and sex. Banned. Because suicide is next to ecstasy. A final ride up in the air. A never ending ride.

Imagine your wrist. A cut. Fine one. And blood gushing out. Beat by beat. Gradually slowing down the flow. Along with the rhythm of the heart. Dhumb dhumb. Snoozing out. Zooming out. Eyes seeing the other side of the coded world. Everything decrypting right in front of you. And it all shines on. Like the moon. Like the star. Like the sun. Sorry Lennon!

How dare you think to get out of your enslaved body? How dare you think to get out of pain? Freedom is banned.

Once a prophet asked God that he wants the whole prophethood lineage through him until the last prophet. God accepted. This is a divine acceptance of dynastic rule. Or monarchy. Yet, you can’t… I know… You know… Resist.

Even when the greatest of prophets knew a lot, and had direct contact with the God, they couldn’t resist. Musa couldn’t resist his questions. Khizr couldn’t bear Musa. The two great men had to part ways because the two were incompatible. But we – the imperfect ones – are not allowed to part ways. We are blamed. Judged. Stoned. Punished. Labeled for life.

I am Musa. I can’t bear myself. That’s the whole point.

How bad it is? How worse could it be?

Sometimes you connect the dots backwards. Reverse engineering. Going reverse in mind and yet there is no apparent contingency choice. Until or unless you go backwards in time so deep that the Butterfly Effect happens and you cut your own umbilical cord inside your mother.

After all, you cut your umbilical cord all the time. Only that you just don’t die because you are not allowed to die by choice.

Do you know what hospice is? Do know. There are ways to reduce pain without cutting the wire. But I do believe that concept from ‘You Don’t Know Jack”. There must be a choice. At least when the pain is unbearable and there is no hope ahead. The hospice system should enhance for all age groups.

Isn’t it too frustrating? Let’s cut the cord for now. There are times when we all wish there was no time. No existence. No existential crises.

And no words.


It’s not just Bhera. It’s Raja Porus’s Bhera. Alexander the Great had his meeting with the Raja here. It was a victory but towards a downfall.

Down the road, Bhera is back. Not on horses but among donkeys.

Communism (Laal Band) was standing in capitalist McDonald’s (it’s a joke) to witness the revolution. Every ideology was kinda mixed up. Women in western clothes were taunting a man in eastern clothes for being imported. And all were there for imported meat. What a meet? McDonald’s in itself is a separate country with GDP over… let’s not embarrass ourselves with halal capitalism.

Those were jokes.

Such nuances are ugly but we are trained. We used to pick tens and hundreds of dead bodies regularly for over a decade in bomb blasts. We are trained for the worst. Right now we are in talks to have a deal with those who killed around 70k people. How cool are we?

Bhera happened. Nothing much. Ahsan Iqbal faced it well. With fame and power comes this. But yes, it was ugly and shouldn’t have happened. Ugliest rivals with opposing ideologies don’t fight this way. These two are of the exact same ideology and manifesto yet they fight for their turn on lap.

Communism was consuming capitalism and witnessing the political chaos where one democrat was being thwarted by the supporters of ousted democrat. That’s how it all was. Twist: none was / is a democrat.

Take a note of ignorance. It’s a matter of stupidity and cult mentality. This won’t lead to anywhere good and we are not demanding good. We are fine with the status quo with only one condition of my lap dancer.

Solution. Yes. It’s like the monopoly game. Do not pass Bhera. Do not go to McDonald’s. Don’t merge homies and commies. And don’t fight for two sides when they are exactly the same.

There’s no Solution

Military + it’s pimps + inappropriate use of religion and hallelujah!

The debacle of Shehryar Afridi and his lies in the name of God, and his life goes down with a smirk of Fawad Chaudhary.

But he will sustain. Liars do sustain.

The incumbent pimps are no different. They lied too. They lied about missing people. Sat with them and made promises.

Bilalwal promised. Maryam promised. And both took the opportunity of being Zalims. Tortured the already tortured souls with the same police force which they hated a while back.

There is no solution. So stop asking for one. For now, just know the problem. Identify it clearly. Knowing it is the first step and the only step for now. And next time, vote for new faces. Absolutely new ones with a vision and a manifesto.

But with the boys in town, even that’s not going to work.

Even if you will fulfill requirements of a strong case, you will end up in dick chamber of Retard Justice Javed Iqbal who is into oral exploration more than his desk job. The filth behind the tables is too much. Too many. Fat pigs with impotent tails between their legs, but eyes and tongues as lusty as a young boar.

There’s no solution. Not for now. Identify the problem. Know it. And wait for the time when you will have to come out to follow a genuine lead to burn the cruelty in ashes along with all the cruel pigs.

Shall disapprove of what you say, but will defend to the death your right to say it

Even if a person starts voicing your voice, he/she isn’t trustworthy because of his/her opportunism and change of circumstances. Though, not in all cases. People change too.

But truth doesn’t change. Truth stays intact.

I have always been an anti-establishment due to their political gimmicks and making this country a living hell. Always.

Long before us were some giants who gave us similar sense. First one was Jinnah himself who didn’t like the political interests of Ayub. He warned him. He warned other men in uniform. Because Jinnah was for democracy.

Then there was Habib Jalib. Unshaken. Took Bhutto, Yahya, Zia and military to his poetic criticism without taking or changing sides. Because Jalib was for people.

Then there was Asma Jahangir. From Zia to Nawaz to Musharraf to Zardari to military; she didn’t spare anyone. Fearless and brave. Because she was for the rule of law.

There have been international voices too. Julian Assange. Edward Snowden. Arundhati Roy. Many others. They didn’t take side with people in power. They took side of people. Of truth. Of the unvoiced.

Now, just because someone is echoing your tone doesn’t mean his slate is clear. He will change his stance sooner than you think. Just wait for his environment to change. He’s a bluff. You know his other views.

People were asking for proofs. Proofs? He has his channel on YouTube. Search him on Twitter and you will find what you are looking for. Always look for yourself. This is age of Google. You can get things with smart taping on your screen.

And even then, you may disagree. It’s fine. Similarly, you may disagree without labeling others with treason and anti-nationalism too. Just because the roles are reversed, try to have a grasp of the whole situation for future evolution of minds. It’s important.

Intellectual honesty is a crime in any totalitarian regime. Orwell said that. This country has always been in totalitarian mode. If one was happy with one totalitarianism and unhappy with the other one, he himself is a question mark. Con artist.

His Highness stands corrected regarding Imran Riaz Khan. Stunts work and he knows the game well. Stunts, acting and some talent with mouth. Wonder why you guys hate TikTokers?

P.S. Handling of Imran Riaz Khan by the state police is uncalled for. It’s wrong, ill-targeted and disgusting. Disagreement with him doesn’t mean this. The same is the ideology for others… Ali Wazir, PTM, people of Balochistan, families of missing people, and all others who are not into violence and just want to speak and heard.

Ok herd!

First IV

First IV in life. The world is different from the other side. But not bad.

Prick. Wrong prick. Prick. Tapes. Fluids going inside making your life better with one drop at a time.

Old ones. Young ones. Very young ones. The very young ones make you angry. Question. Question the whole process of SOPs since evaluation until you realize oh! This is all random. Just randomly random messed up shit of the world.

Fused brain. Fractured leg. A pipe going inside from nose to stomach. A pipe coming out from bladder to genitals to the urine bag.

Oh! His Highness had a bad throat. Very bad. Kinda choking the pipes with a swollen tonsil. The problem with a bad throat is not the bad throat itself but the curls of smoke that still come out. Very sad.

Not bad.

Some patients just break your heart. So young and so messed up. Clueless trigger somewhere inside. Imagine a 16 year old with a bad brain. And then compare. No major problem till now. Not even now.

Empathy. Empathy with a needle is the road to awe. Be it on a hospital bed. Be it on a green belt. Empathy!

And those who prick. Those who prick must prick your heart too. Otherwise it hurts more.

Happiness is Compulsory

Happy. To be happy is a compulsory subject. To be hopeful is compulsory too. To lose patience is optional with low scoring probability.

But to be happy is compulsory. Even if you are not happy. Even if you are suffering. Because suffering is life. Both happiness and suffering are comparative.

Everything is comparative. Health. Wealth. Pain. Gain.

On Instagram, everyone is happier than you. No. Just wait and let the system fall. Delete pictures. Delete. Delete. Delete.

In real life, everyone is more composed. No. Touch the wrong cords and you will hear sad songs. Sadder. Saddest. Like Marla. She had testicular cancer.

Make happiness compulsory even when you are unhappy. Walk around a hospital. Public hospital. Random corridors. People running cluelessly here and there to get the right directions finally to the vein of their loved one. Visit an ICU or CCU. Or a ward. Comparatively, you are very fine.

Dialysis patients have to get their dialysis done twice or thrice a week. Forever. Till death in most cases. Comparatively, your kidneys are very happy.

Or visit an orphanage. A mental hospital. Or a darbaar with tens of people lying around. Or a road with green belts and people sleeping on them and dreaming about cars and big homes.

Even dreams are comparative. I get bad ones. Always bad ones. Struggling so hard to run and chase and be on time and getting frustrated and tired.

Even life after death is comparative. Better than those. Layers. Hierarchy of heavens and hells. 70 times of this. 3 times of that.

Or you can switch off the television altogether.

Be happy. Even when you are unhappy. Comparatively, you are finer than others. Way finer than the majority. And you know that already.

Don’t be a Jack with breast cancer and Marla with testicular cancer when things are not that sequential.

Suffering is optional. Happiness is compulsory.