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Rage – Musarat Ali

ImageThere are days when I mask myself into rage, out of pain. A constant pain. Of your wait. Of your surrounding. Of your aroma. Of your delicacy. Of your beauty.

In those days, I turn to oceans. Look at them with naked eyes. And grow a feeling of you holding my hand. Those oceans then rage into my eyes. My troubled eyes. My awaiting eyes.

And then those questions, those unanswerable questions. I drown in them. Carrying my own fault. With my own luck and your very soul. The depth grows every second till I touch the soil. And become a star. A dying star.

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Random

To the wonder & beyond

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Greetings again from the darkness. Director Terrence Malick makes films that typically fall into the “love it or hate it” genre. He has a very loyal group of fans (of which I am one) who appreciate the unique mental and emotional ride that his projects provide. To say that his films are not accessible is understandable. His objective is to challenge you to access your own beliefs and thoughts, rather than the characters in his movies … they are simply the tools he uses.

Less than two years ago, I was struggling to put thoughts into words after watching Malick’s The Tree of Life. Now, in record time for him, he releases another film that is even more impressionistic … actually abstract is not too strong a description. The usual Malick elements are present – nature, uncomfortable relationships, minimal dialogue, breathtaking photography, and powerful music. Where The Tree of Life focused on Creation and Family, this latest takes on Love and Faith.

Water imagery is a frequent key as we see the personal relationship mimic the changing of the seasons. Neil (Ben Affleck), an American visiting Paris, meets and falls for Marina (Olga Kurylenko), a free-spirited local filled with light and energy. Their love affair moves to the stunning Mont Saint-Michel before settling in the drab plains of Bartlesville, Oklahoma.

It’s not surprising that the relationship suffers as the newness wears thin. The interesting part is how Malick presents it. We mostly witness bits and pieces … he shows us moments, not events. We easily see that Neil’s aloofness and sullen looks don’t jibe with Marina’s effervescence. When she returns to Paris, Neil easily falls in with an old flame played by Rachel McAdams. When she later accuses him of making what they had “nothing”, we all understand what she means … and why.

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While Neil is proving what a lost soul he is, we also meet Father Quintana (Javier Bardem). He has lost the light of his faith and is in full crisis mode, even as he attempts to console and guide Marina. There is no secret that much of this film is autobiographical and that Malick is working through wounds he still carries these many years later. As a movie-goer, there is little to be gained from Alleck’s disconnected character or from Kurylenko dancing in the rain. The real prize is awakening the thoughts and feelings many of us probably buried over the years to hide emotional pain. Malick seems to be saying that it’s OK to acknowledge your foundation, regardless of your ability to succeed in a socially acceptable manner.

If you prefer not to dig so deep emotionally, this is a beautiful film to look at – thanks to Director of Photograpy Emmanuel Lubezki (a frequent Malick collaborator), and listen to – a blended soundtrack with many notable pieces from various composers. While this will be remembered as Roger Ebert’s final movie review (he liked it very much), it will likely have very little appeal to the average movie watcher – and I’m confident that Terrence Malick is fine with that.

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Poetry

Gham e Ulfat

Kuch aur bhi tere waady thy,
Kuch aur hi teri qasmen theen,
Kuch aur bhi tere qissay thy,
Kuch aur hi teri baaten theen,

Un waadon men jo ranjish thi,
Un qasmon men jo ansoo thy,
Woh saary qissay ishq ke thy,
Woh saari pyar ki baaten theen,

Lo chor chaly hum wadon ko,
Lo torr chaly un qasmon ko,
Woh rog bhi hum ny laa hi liya,
Jo paath tum hi parhaati theen,

Iss jog jagat ki baaten kya,
Kya afsaany kya parwaany,
Kya tum ko haal bataaein ab,
Kya hum ny jot jagayi thi..

Jo likha tha woh bech diya,
Jo chaha tha woh paa hi liya,
Har ek qadam pe tum hi magar,
Iss dil ko bohut yaad aati thi..

Har shy ka badal mil sakta hy,
Har daaman pur ho sakta hy,

Bas ek kami reh jaati hy,
Jab yaad tumhari aati hy,
Har saans pe bhaari hoti hy,
Har nabz pe taari hoti hy..

Woh waady qasmen qisson men,
Pyaary toh bohut lagty hen magar,
Iss dil men hamesha chubhty hen,
Ban aansu aankh men rehty hen..

MusaratAli

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Random

Trois Moments

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Eyes, sealed, thoughts, convulsion, your facetiousness, reconstructed, every word, every moment, every laugh, constructing. Your epicures, your impertinence, when fills your expressions. And when the lights of laughter, kisses your lips. Feels like, jasmine flowers, half drowned, in the aromas, of flower streams… Idolum.

Ballads of the dreamless, clueless conversations, hopes, stories, emotions, truths, lies, laughs, tears, meaningless… Meeting.

Silence, promises, convulsion, separation, solitude, hopes, meanings, undefined, unfinished, untold, reconstructing, smiling… Leaving.

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Solitary, hope & you.

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In the late afternoons, when the yellows of the sunlight turns orange. When the venoms of loneliness baste the walls of my home. Far… beyond the skies, your shadow glows and dims. Far… beyond your shadow, there is a fog of my hope. Hope, that glows and dims. 

Now, that hope has turned grotesque. It’s dress has been befouled. It’s face has scars.

Or perhaps, it is about to die. It is about to betray me. And leave me in Solitary.

In the loneliness, that dark, afflictive loneliness. Another hope scares me. It scares me with its love. And makes way into my heart. Perhaps, I’ve forgotten to love.

In the loneliness, and in its venom  That old, unattractive hope distracts me. Confuses me. And the new hope fights for it’s survival, fights for my attention, fights to be owned. But it might betray. It might ruin my heart with it’s beauty and perfection. It may shrink the shroud of my honesty.

Or perhaps I don’t understand it clearly. Perhaps I underestimate it. Underestimate it’s significance. Undermine its power. Undervalue its love.

All these thoughts and many fill me up. Ask me someday and I’ll tell you about those. Ask me someday and I’ll tell you about my new hope.

Someday, should it ever come.

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Love Story

Grenadine


Angels falling out of love in due
Some deeds undone some missing clues
Real times and some instances not so true
One and one forming me and you…

In light, in darkness lies the dawn of us
Some great things, some moments treacherous
Pawns standing high while the King’s being crushed
It’s not a game, just a life being frivolous…

Inside and out, but with an order backwards
What we felt, what was done – completely traversed
Our hearts in our eyes, saying words we rehearsed
Time changed us, leaving our story preserved…

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