My right! Sadda Haqq!

Kind of addictive song: "Sada Haqq" from the Indie Movie "Rockstar"

To come to terms with this "Sada Haqq" loosely translated would me "My right", I begin to ponder, in this man-made-God-in-his-image, rather than the faithfully known converse, shouldn't we be asking God the same?
After all, we were brought in this world, by our parents? by divine providence? by some mixture of science and karma? Whatever be it, shouldn't we demand our right for bringing us to see this light?

Perhaps its just the mood I am in, but either way, it's well known that once we know why we are here, we get to be "informed". But before we venture into knowing what we are here for, shouldn't we seek our rights for being here?


Let's ask our creator, Sada Haq Aithe Rakh!

November 9th

:)

Pyar...Love...Amour...Αγάπη...Liebe...Förälskelse...محبت کرنا

Secrets...

A secret dies with a person (negative)

A secret dies with A Person (positive)

A person dies with a secret (wasted)

Strangest of conscience is when an effective secret can be nonchalantly hid in the bizarre attitude of “I tried”!

Do we have “never to be shared” mementos that we know will remain with us for the left over of our lives? Perhaps we all have, and perhaps we dread having them.

Do we grow over them with the passage of time? Do newer memories reverberate the same resonance? Do they help in overcoming a hitherto weakening conscience?

There is more to life than camouflaging our true self with our perceived “good” attempts of self-projections. Historians, philosophers, men, women and children are aware that what goes around, comes around. Still, our attempt to ignore the consequences will never cease.

Perhaps we are scared of living our lives the way we want to. Perhaps we don’t want to hurt the others that matter! We prefer consoling ourselves with the notion that we all have our negatives. We all make mistakes. We all sin!

If we are careless we scale through this but not without affect in the later years. By then it will be late.

I see me..

Looking into a mirror

I see my reflection

Blurred by constant trails,

Distorted by unleveraged pure constancy.

What I perceive now,

Will perhaps, and regrettably, seem an illusion, a dream in future.

Perhaps, and prayerfully, though, I hope not.

Today, as I see,

A tear, drops

Alas,

The reflection is clearer

Confirming the consciousness of my being

Until, this clarity evades too soon.

Tomorrow, as I believe

Time will be,

Not exhausted eventually,

Constancy will return

When I remember triumphs

Hopefully please,

Even if it means it would be in my reflections only that I shall see.