By Mushtaque B Barq
The gloom of momentous stillness, venomous monsters, those unaddressed and unfathomed fears, lethal and low in mirth, a few exhausted wrinkles, weird and broken worried faces carved out of human touch, delicate and decent in texture and within these deep down ruthless lines of life, few untrodden caves, those hollow gigantic fissures, those lively edges and sharp and blind ends invite sensitive minds to explore the very gloom that otherwise exhibits peculiarity, mannerism to say–engulfing the world, intense and murky —darker than devil, drills and drains the pouring of brow to devoid a trainer from the luxury of peace. Mysterious moments are delicious for those who know where to hit the rock for the maximum.
Love alone acts as a streak of light, they say, amid the deepest buried hatred. Oppressor for that matter of fact multiplies or to say corrupts the flock of the same barn, their hands add to hypocrisy which for recommended reason remains veiled beneath the folds of the face. Appearances are deceptive. Well! They look holy, their behavior seems polished and perfect, but skin deep wickedness damages much- earned trust, confidence and regards. They touch the treasures; they snatch relief from the hidden wounds, and they distort images. Images are reflections of hard-earned status, but to those only who know what Images are, what they are meant for and what they serve.
Hatred, misunderstanding and heartlessness only tow you to the never-ending tunnels of ignorance and serves injustice behind the folds of distastefulness, set up innumerable piles of dust encouraging devastation; it fuses and fixes your personality with muck of malicious malignancy, turns you into a formless statue for the innocent kids to scare them like a scarecrow in the fields, cheating the birds to serve the human mind. The mind behind the making of scarecrow is what a scarecrow exhibits. This ugly disguised creature wonderfully cheats winged fairies and cheats us too; we fix it for the flying machines with the thought that it can prevent and scare the little birds, but we forget a lifeless creature carved out of human mind can only stand under the sun and shower without serving. Hatred is scarecrow; it only occupies an insignificant place in the field but harasses tiny birds that fly only to find a grain or so. A symbol of malignancy, a man fixes it to exhibit his own manifestation, his cruelness and control. The grave for grain is the policy, let a tiny bird take its share, and deprivation brings death.
A goldmine of worthy wisdom must be discovered within your mount of negligence. Peeping is power, peep and find, ponder and discover, penetrate and preserve are tips of wisdom. Love alone can wreck mountains tops bedecked with misapprehensions and hatred can and has always added layers after layers to turn mountain tops, those lofty peaks into edifices, serving devils and feeding monsters, nursing vampires and hatching serpents of hell that only lure but leads to never-ending suffering. Love is the only wisdom that encourages velvety verses of ethical scripts and hatred for that matter erases and amends. Modification, they say has tenacity, but short-lived, it only leaves the hollow chanting in the caves which never reverberate but conceals it for ages together. Love has resonance if you leave it even at a cell, so tiny in appearance, but it responds and reverberates. The added music is what hatred lacks. Hate none; it only tears down rich tissues of human sentiment that creates a sense of fellow feeling, a delightful blessing one should cherish. And hatred can only reduce the lump of this flesh into rotten and decomposed debris leading to moral death. To live a moment in love is better than thousands of days fashioned and programmed by hatred. Life is short, love makes it eternal, decide for yourself.
Mushtaq B.Barq is a Columnist, Poet and Fiction Writer. He is the author of “Feeble prisoner, “ Wings of Love” and many translation works are credited to the author like “ Verses Of Wahab Khar” and “ Songs Of Sochkral”