Sheen - The Insomnia Diaries

THOUGHTS Peerzada Muzamil " As Bertrand Russell puts it, ‘’If you wish to know what men will do, you must know not only, or principally, their material circumstances, but rather the whole system of their desires with their relative strengths.” Here, in the Indian Administered Kashmir, authorities often desperately try to use the maneuvers of utopian politics, flawed tactics and abhorrent reactions against what is and what has been happening. It gets even worse when they try use the yardsticks of the statistics to put forth the dubious statements wherein they try to claim that they’ve estimated the number of people who perpetrate violence, but when they get a reply, statistically sound and unambiguous – it depicts the picture exactly opposite –that only 7% of the people admire them, ironically, they remain silent and denounce these outright statistical figures mysteriously heretic.  But mere statistics are not enough to understand what the people of Kashmir ex

Short Story Peerzada Muzamil " Although, he can, no longer, see the world, but his dreams, still palpable, are vividly haunting. " They say, ‘wars never end’. They are just draped by illusions of peace. Ever since the Garden of Eden housed Adam and the ensuing The Fall, there have always been wars; sometimes as outrageous as the great war of the twentieth century; sometimes as silent as a sigh of a lovelorn soul. Every time there is some apparent triumph, there, inevitably, has to be a defeat; the entire process submerging mankind in a sheer delusion of victory or even loss while the truth remains that there is no end to the war. People rise again to fight for their nations or their untamed desires, to again portray the end in red; in the bloodstained streets, or the rubble of massacred emotions – the cascading spate of blood and tears, a spiral of insanity and the abyss of sin.  You see, how frail and silentious, yet too grave, the first ever war was – fough

Peerzada Muzamil THOUGHTS      "It was the day when children went to acquire the light of knowledge and faded to the eternity of grim darkness; when teachers were giving lessons and received bullets in wage" It was one of the darkest hours of the human history. It was the hour which broke our hearts, which made the entire world aghast. It was the hour of disgrace which gave a chill to the nerves of humanity. It was the winter of bloodbath. And it all began that morning – morning of that December, the winter of which was less harsh than what it was going to witness; when the kids left their homes for school and never returned. It was the day when children went to acquire the light of knowledge and faded into the eternity of grim darkness; when teachers were giving lessons and received bullets in wage. It all began the morning when a bunch of terrorists, laden with lethal arms, misled by their distorted religious ideologies, committed the ferocious atrocity that

A Short Story Peerzada Muzamil "Let me dig more, let the more scorpions come out, and hairy spiders too, let me keep digging till the edge of my shovel hits the inhumed corpse..." I am coming for you, riding on this black stallion, in the moonlit night, and I am at the steep hill, just a few gallops away from your resort. Do you remember that cursed night, when I beheld you on the furthest of the churchyards, on the bleakest of nights when the wolves howled and the screaming ghosts hastened out of the distorted graves? It is since then I am craving for you.   The craving – craving to kill you – is consuming my soul just like a black hole consuming the fiery stars in the remotest of the cosmos. How iniquitous is it to kill an old stooping man, too weak to stand for even a while? But see, I am wistfully restive, for to obliterate your existence is my fervid desire.   See, now I’m exactly there, nothing could stop me from reaching the ceme

A Short Story Peerzada Muzamil "A stone knocked me down unconscious, and slowly and slowly, I bled to death..." I had always felt that my love affair would not remain draped for ever, knew that they know about it and lash me. But they'd stone me to death, I hardly gave it a thought, it didn't matter whatsoever. You see, I was as intrepid as a lone bear on hunt, any consternation hardly bothered me and nothing prompted to change the course of my mad heart. But, you see, had I known I would be killed, I would have been more cautious and clandestine. How does it matter now, I am dead anyway, but allow me to  tell you, every night, I would melt away in her arms, making love to her. Every night she would clasp me into her arms and rejuvenate my soul; her moist lips would inebriate mine and till dawn we would make love to each other and stare into each other’s eyes.   I never knew why I loved Najma, but I knew I did and did so with exuberant intensity. Pro