The island

He was desperate for getting attention from his childhood. It is thought that the first word would be "listen" from his mouth. But he still feels after 25 years that he hasn’t been heard yet. He knows that there will be some people for whom he has an importance but couldn’t make himself believe that. In simple, he doesn’t know from when he started feeling complexed.
This situation could have only two reactions. Fight or silence. He adapted the second one. He became silent. He doesn’t remember that he has wished for anything in his childhood from my parents but this silence is only of tongue. In his subconscious fight continued. He tried to come near the people but his subconscious always makes him believe that he emits radiations which repel others from him.
When he started to go to school, nothing changed. He couldn’t make friends. The fear inside him did not allow him to go near someone. The lack of self confidence pushed him to get support but from where he could get self confidence for getting support.
Finally books became his support. He read every single available thing. It ranged from temporarily emotional satisfying poetry of "Amjad Islam Amjad" to symbolic mental strength giving lectures of " Allama Muhammad iqbal". The liberalism of "Manto" was seen along with grip of words of " Qurat-ul-ain- Haider". As a result, he has got the mental strength form these books but couldn’t find the emotional support which he was searching. He remained alone among so many people around him.
In the final years of his university, he has changed his reaction. He broke his silence. He has started using his knowledge as hammer. Whoever came in front was being smashed by that hammer. That brought few people near to him but ultimate result was the same as that of silence. Running away of people. After university while doing his job in industry, he has seen life in its real colors. Unlimited busy life has taken both his silence and arguments but couldn’t snatch his loneliness.
Then he decided to get more experience of life and came to Germany for higher education. Here he has used another tactic. He has decided to recognize himself. It was not as easy as it looks. Fortunately there was river nearby. No one knows why but it is considered that one can think about himself sitting near river or ocean.
He couldn’t recognize himself but discovered some of his powers at least. Not only discovered but used as much as possible. He met a lot of people from all over the world. He attacked them with his discussions. These discussions include everything from discipline of Germans to the reasons of racism in South Africa in past and from signs of Arabs in Spanish people to the love of arts in French people. (incomplete) Written on Dec. 2005

Addition on August 2006:
Then bomb blasted inside him which splitted him into thousand of pieces. He vanished. After seeing pieces, one can guess that there was building here but can’t know about its shape and structure. From few days He is trying to construct new building by collecting pieces. It is not possible but still there is a faint hope that people will be able to see bad conditioned building whom one can give the name of Faizan. (Still incomplete)

Addition on April 2008:
An year has been passed since he has came back to Pakistan. Many baots have been landed and many ships have left meanwhile. But an island remained island. (completed)

The Crazy Artist

I never claimed to be a personality analyst or even writer. If I am still trying to play with his personality by the words, it is just for a reason that he is the only person, whom I know, who will not mind anything written on him. The matter is not that he is a very kind and humble to forgive but that he just doesn’t care what others think of him.

My interaction started with him when we worked together in Magdeburg to represent Pakistan in a festival arranged by University.His style of work has drowned me into thoughts. What kind of thing he is. How can one be creative as well as dedicated at the same time. If he is an artist by birth, why the hell is he not in front line to take the credit. I didn’t know at that time (maybe he himself didn’t know as well) that his dedication, concentration and all his effort was for one reason. Distract the attention from his unsuccessful love. I am saying this “Unsuccessful” in worldly words as usually people think that love has only to do with getting exactly the thing one loved and wished for. For me, his love has proved very successful. He couldn’t get the girl but has got the dedication, courage and effort to cause creativity. Wait! I have to go bit behind to make the situation clear.

Born in the not very much developed town of Layyah, he was blessed with so many powers. The ground of Layyah was proving to be small for the energy he was finding in himself. He didn’t know where to use his directionless power. No one knows why but it is like that one has to get deep injury first in order to get direction for powers from nature and to enter in the field of creativity. The history has proven this fact too that most of the artists, writers, scientists and philosophers have to experience injuries in order to create.

He shifted to Multan in search of the injury. He fell in love with a girl in search of that injury. He has made that love “Ishq Lahasil” (Unattainable love) in search of that injury. As soon as he realized it is time to get that injury, he closed the eyes and jumped from the top floor.

When his eyes become opened, he was in Germany. No need to mention with all his powers that can be given direction. All the lands were shouting that I am the one you should step into conquer. He has selected the land of Photography. Not only selected but attacked with all the powers and abilities nature has bestowed upon him. He has started living photography. He ate photography and he drank photography. He slept in the lap of photography and he woke in the arms of photography.

If I will be allowed to use the Mufti’s (an urdu writer) words, I will say that he was a genii who needed Aladin. On starting photography, he felt the need of Aladin who will rub the lamp so that he can use his powers. He turned the head towards all the directions in order to seek that Aladin. Unfortunately or fortunately, the person near to his sword was me at that time. He didn’t think for a moment, take his sword out and attacked with full power. After killing, he has taken my soul into trance, picked up dead body and started roaming in the streets of Magdeburg. After stepping a bit, he realized that his Aladin was Genii himself and using his limited powers on the shoulders of few other Aladins.

He stopped, thought for a while and adapted a clever approach. He has accompanied those too whom shoulders I was using. Now only One genii was playing a flute and all snakes were dancing on the tone. The other Aladins/snakes were either innocent or kind not to realize this but I have registered my hidden protest sometimes. Whenever he smelled the sense of revolution, he took the sword again, tied the hands and kicked in the direction he was defining.

After coming to Pakistan, I have realized that he has made me so habitual of his sword attacks and I can’t follow any direction without involving him. Even now when nature has snatched genii from Aladin and vice versa, I wait for him to come to Pakistan so that can dance on his flute.

What is he doing now? After conquering the lands of photography, his powers have become directionless again. He needs another injury but he is more clever now. He has selected an unattainable love rather than making it unattainable. He thinks that he loves a magdeburger girl after shifting to Rostock but in fact he is searching new field from the side of his eye. No one knows which field will offer the services to his sword but from few days, he is holding a brush instead of camera with an excuse that he is making portrait of that Magdeburger girl. I have said it an excuse as I m seeing that in this way he is tempting the painting field to come under his attacks. Oh poor “Painting field” I feel mercy for you.