سفر لاحاصل

(افسانہ)

 

                

                 اُ س نے دھیرے سے سرگوشی کی ، میں اس کی ساری بات نہ سن سکا، تاہم جو کچھ سمجھا،اُس کے مطابق جواب دے دیا۔ وہ دھیمے سُروں میں پھر گنگنایا،اب کی بارمجھے سب سمجھ آیا، میں نے اُس کو بتایا "ہاں بالکل اکیلے ہی ادھر آیا ہوں‘‘۔ اُس نے حیرت زدہ ہو کر پوچھا: ’’زمین سے اس قدر پرے، اس کونے میں، اِس ویران بستی میں، اِس قدر بے آباد ، پْرخطر اور طویل راہوں سے گزر کر آئے ہو، وجہ جان سکتا ہوں ؟‘‘ میرے اندر خوشی کی ایک عجیب سی لہردوڑ گئی،یوں لگا گویا سفر کی ساری کلفت یک لخت ختم ہوگئی ، میں نے قدرے بلند اور رعب دار آواز میں جواب دیا ۔ " شوق کا کوئی مول نہیں‘‘ ۔ میری بلند آواز میں جوش اور لگن کا ملا جلا رنگ تھا۔ میں نے ایک لمبی سانس لی اور کیمرے کی آنکھ میں ایک اور حسین منظر محفوظ کر لیا۔

                   جاتی شام کے دھندلکے میں ، جب آدھا سورج جھیل کے نیلے پانی میں ڈوب رہا تھا اور باقی آدھا دور اُفق کی سرخ لکیر کے اُس پار اور کسی اور دنیا میں طلوع ہو رہا تھا، میں تیز ٹھنڈی ہوا اور صاف فضا میں لمبے لمبے سانس لے رہا تھا اور وہ میرے سامنے کھڑا مجھے غور سے دیکھ رہا تھا۔ مجھ سے کہنے لگا " تم جیسے لوگ یہ حقیقت جان لیتے ہیں کہ ہم سب مسافر ہیں ، ہر کو ئی اپنا اپنا سفرنامہ لکھ رہا ہے ، یہ اور بات کہ کچھ لو گ اپنی کتاب میں وہی کچھ لکھتے ہیں جو تقدیر نے پہلے سے ہی لوحِ محفو ظ میں لکھ ر کھا ہے ۔اور کچھ سر پھرے تقدیر کی تحریر خود لکھنے کے لیے قریہ قریہ پھرتے ہیں۔

               

یہ کہہ کر وہ خاموش ہو گیا، میں کچھ دیر تک اُس کی اگلی بات کا انتظا ر اور پچھلی بات پرغور کرتا رہا    میں نے دل میں سوچا، کس قدر خوش فہم ہے یہ بوڑھا۔۔۔ پھر قدرے تیز لہجے میں پوچھا گویا اسے بتا رہا ہوں ،تو آپ کے خیال میں مجھے اِن پہاڑوں، ندیوں،اور جھیلوں میں کون سی تقدیر ملے گی؟ اب کسی دیوار تلے خزانہ دفن نہیں کیا جاتا ، کسی ندی میں موتی نہیں بہتے اورکوئی پہاڑ سونے کا نہیں ہوتا۔ میں اگر بچہ ہوتا تو شاید اِن باتوں پر ایمان لاتا مگر میرا تجربہ کچھ اور کہتا ہے اور یہ وہ آڑہے جو آپ کی باتوں کو محض کتابی حیثیت دینے پر مجبور ہے۔                

                    میں نے ایک طرف منہ موڑا ، سائبیریا سے آنے والے پرندے ایک لمبے سفر کے بعد جھیل کنارے اُترنے ہی والے تھے کہ میں نے منظر کی تصویر لے لی۔وہ بوڑھا دوبارہ گویا ہوا ، ’’اچھی تقدیر صرف دولت مندی ہی کا نام نہیں۔" میں نے ۱س کی بات کو جھٹلایا، پھر وہ اُداسی سے گویا ہوا،’’شاید تم 

  اُس دنیا کے باسی ہو جہاں کا خدا ہمارے خدا سے مختلف ہے۔‘‘ میں اُس کے مافی الضمیر کو سمجھ گیا ، میرے چہرے کا بدلتا رنگ دیکھ کر اُس نے اندازہ لگایاکہ بات میرے دل کو لگی ہے، اُس نے ایک اور چوٹ لگا ئی: ’’مادہ پرست خواہ ابھی سفر کے آغاز میں ہی کیوں نہ ہو ،وہ جان جاتا ہے کہ وہ انجانے میں کس چیز کو خدا بنا چکا ہے‘‘مجھ میں تھوڑی سی شرم عود آئی، ایک لمحے کو میں گھبرایا، فوراً ہی دماغ نے دِل کو سمجھایا ، ’’ارے بھائی ، ایسی باتیں کتابوں میں ہی سجی اچھی لگتی ہیں ، یہ دنیا ہے، یہاں کا قانون اور طرح سے چلتاہے۔‘‘ مگر جو اُلجھن تھی سو و ہ رہی۔

                 میں اِسی کشمکش میں تھا کہ اُس سے تقدیر کی تحریر کا مفہوم سمجھوں ،جس سے مراد دولت بھی نہیں یا رہنے دوں کہ کہیں وہ دوبارہ میرے طرزِزندگی پر طنز نہ کر دے۔ ساتھ ہی ساتھ میں اُن پردیسی پرندوں کو دیکھنے میں اِتنا مگن تھا کہ معلوم نہ ہوا کہ وہ بوڑھا نہ جانے کب غائب ہو گیا ۔ اندھیرا زیادہ ہو گیا تھا ۔ جب تک چاند پوری طرح نیلے پانی میں نہ اُترا ،میں جھیل کنارے ایک چٹان پر بیٹھا رہا ، پھر اِس منظر کی ایک تصویر لی اورواپس مُڑ گیا۔

                  میں کئی برس تک ملکوں ملکوں پھرتا رہا۔ دولت اور شہرت ہمیشہ میرے ساتھ رہی۔کیمرہ میرے رزق کا سبب بنا رہا اور میں مظاہرِ فطرت کو محفوظ کرنے میں لگا رہا ۔دُنیا اِن مناظر کو دیکھ کردادوتحسین کے نعرے بلند کرتی رہی اور انہی نعروں کے شور میں ،میں اِس بات سے بے خبر رہا کہ یہ کتنے ہی نظارے میں اپنی آنکھوں سے نہ دیکھ سکا نہ اپنے دِل میں اُتار سکا۔میری کتابِ زندگی کے اوراق سادہ ہی رہے اور سفرنامہ تحیر سے خالی ہی رہا ۔ میں اپنے خُدا کی پوجا میں اِتنا مصروف رہا کہ اُس بوڑھے کے خدا کو کسی منظر سے نہ نکال سکا۔ گو وہ میرے ساتھ ساتھ رہا اور ہر مقام پر اپنا اِظہار کرتا رہا۔

                                               تاسف کا احساس لیے جب میں خیال نگری سے ہو کر اپنا سفرنامہ پڑھتا ہوں تومعلوم ہوتا ہے کہ من کی دولت سے تہی دست زندگی میری تقدیر تھی اور خضرکا سا رہنما ملنے کے باوجود میں اپنی تقدیر نہ بدل سکا

Tick Tick

Twilight, where the light hugs the night. It is not a tryst, for the day announces vividly: “Look!  My reign is over now. The center of power is moved.” The scene speaks of itself. There is gloom in the light, shine in the murk. The whole audience looks, many notice, some muse. There are others who immerse so deep in thoughts that it is impossible to tug them out. Once hemmed in, they are lost for all eternity. So, he was there.

The flight of ideas knows no bound. Time and space have nothing to do with it. Nurtured in an outpost, having all the ends of the world within its surroundings, no one could stop him to think broad. He was not a mere farmer like others, sowing all their out efforts to harvest the dreams every season. Rather, he was quite a relaxed person with small land to farm and a lot of space to think. Thoughts neither occupy the acres nor currency bills; they are somewhat free of cost. Independent of every necessity, they just need an observing eye and a listening ear. He was rich in both, hence rich in philosophy.

                Curious about the sun and the days, a group of youngsters found it a better idea to talk to the sagacious figure of their society. He was the only thinker in their world, an unparalleled personality among all. “There is something on the other side of the mountains, probably some aliens or a state of talking animals;” he often told them. And they all envisioned the same for long times.  No one could dare to oppose his hypothesis or prove practically, for he was universally considered as the right person. The other reasons were the woods and the mountain ranges extending to infinity which clogged them to go along the river.

                “Every day is different. The yesterday can never come again, nor do the other days. What is this series of sunrises and sunsets?” “Where does the indefinite period of time extend?” He often thought for hours, similarly the others did. They had never counted the days; these were same as unregulated water of river. The age of a person was an unrelated question, for they just worked and enjoyed the short span of life.

 A saint by nature, he never considered himself as sage. This was not what he wanted; he had his own questions which were still unanswered. “Wiser is he, who can solve the mysteries which confuse me,” he often mused. Directionless, he used to find his answers from the questions of those, who venerated him a lot.

On a fine evening, when the people were returning from their fields, some boys encircled him in the way. He greeted with an affectionate smile and sat on a small cliff. The conversation on general topics continued until one of them said, “Where do the fresh days come from?” The short-heighted chap who asked the question, had just stepped in his youth. “You are not the first one to ask it my dear, but it is a mystery. Probably, these are destined to emerge like fresh leaves, like flowers that are always new, and like every new gush of water in our river.” He sighed as he was helpless. “Just as we cannot locate where the river goes, because of the adoption of its tough path, similarly days come from a world inaccessible to us.” He responded hurriedly, to have a fine escape from the topic. But this question was not new for him. It haunted him since long, when he was a child. The days are enigmatic, so does the age. In their culture, the realities of life and death were disguised in some myths, but not too much advanced to stop the queries and the thought process. They were free people because they could think liberally. The spectacles of nature were not yet hijacked by priests to have their bread and butter. However, the limited resources and the race for survival had restricted them to think frequently. A society is alive as long as it strives for its subsistence. When the basic needs are fulfilled, it has to hold the hand of cultural progression to show that it still has the existence.

Those who love to know cannot stop thinking. He returned home with a burden on his mind. But the question was not about the emergence of days. He strongly believed that it will be answered by a series of people with time. Someone will manage to go along the river to meet the external world. The other one will try to climb up the skies to look at the top. This will continue till man will be able to respond to the teenagers about the days and the time. But what can he contribute to this stream was the real question. People come in the world, live and go unnoticed. No one bothers to remember them except those who have given something to the world. An idea, a thought, or a way of life. These people are admired, loved and honored afterwards. He thought it a duty of every man on earth to contribute something for humanity.

On the very next conversations, people learned many new things from the man.“Everything is in a flow, towards some ambiguous world. The place where death is not death. It is mere flow of things, a metamorphosis probably.  Our days, our life period and our world are part of a great game, we cannot understand. But it will be clear one day.” “What we have to do till then?” the same small guy asked who had initiated the debate. The spiritual father smiled and replied in a sweet tone, “We have to try for the sequence of discoveries, to think out of the box which will lead to some outcome. It will happen only if we stop living for these days and nights. We have to live for ourselves. Our lives are too short to be counted. We have to achieve many a goals for better understanding of the nature.”

The days passed as they are destined so. The seasons changed abruptly. The trees were wrapped in more annual rings. Many died and new beings were born. The teenagers became fathers and grandfathers. No one could forget the spiritual figure of their world. No one could even dare to cross the mountains. People stopped thinking wildly. They were now more concerned in their animals and farms. The rain cycle was much improved to provide them enough yields. Prior to this, they had to fetch water from the river to irrigate. People had more than they needed, so they indulged in upgrading their culture. They left their huts to shift in well-designed houses. The clothing was improved. Modern dishes and new etiquettes were devised to show their promotion. The thought process could not be revised, for they were busy in new things. However, the philosophies of the man were still admired. They were much happier in a finitely timeless world. They did not bother to measure how much they have lived, and it made them free from many worries. They enjoyed conversation as long as they wanted, worked as long they had energy and passed their last days vivaciously, for they were ready to enter a new world. The code of morality was exercised as it was devised long ago.

But, the time had prepared them to present before the external world. Before the world of aliens and of talking animals. On a dark day, when the black clouds covered their homes, there came from nowhere a huge army. An army of men wearing iron, holding iron, and riding on a strange animal with extremely fast speed. They invaded, named the land as the new world, and introduced a small thing along with others that sounded tick-tick. The aliens had not only occupied their designed houses and the land, but their time too. They felt entangled in the tick-tick forever.

Dos And Don'ts

             

             Very often, we desire to get more than our status, we want to be the leader of fellow human beings and crave to be well-known in our society. It's not a bad thing, for man is the crown of the creatures and he is supposed to think broad and fly high in the skies. To ponder on a matter wisely before working on it is the only thing which differentiates  Homo-Sapiens from the rest. But, as far as this desire is concerned, we fail to contemplate our suitability. Our line of action is quite violent and we always behave as 'Mr. Right' for the leadership. For instance, we all are familiar of the people around us including us who talk high about their ideas how the government should do in this situation and what would I do if I were in place of this 'short-sighted' leader.

           Those who have high ranks, have to comply with great expectations.A man in the street is never supposed to be the Saviour of the nation. He is considered to toil hard for the bread and butter of his family, and die after a peaceful life.In contrary to it, if a person comes out of his home to lead his people,his obligations are increased manifold from the very first day. It becomes necessary for him to keep his own aspirations apart and die his own hand for the sake of others. It's just a glimpse of the life of a person having greater status than others. 

          Having a look at history, we find majority of people who got the chance to lead the nations, but failed to coup with the shortcomings and demands of the stature. It is crystal clear that such nations were ruined either due to the irrational decisions of their leaders or rein-less prostration of their desires.

         Making a long story short, one should realize that not every person can be the king of his own state or a commissioner of his city, since there are millions of such people who have the same target for just one or few seats. So, what each and every man can do and definitely achieve is the love of his fellows by serving them. It not only enables one to seek satisfaction and pleasure of soul, but also defines weather a man can bear the responsibility of a nation or not.

The Socrates’ Day

The door was knocked. It kept on bumping. The ice melted thousands of times. Volcanoes erupted along with. The trees grew, some rose and some destroyed by storms. Calendars turned to chronicles. Monarchs were founded and plundered. Characters always dimmed but the truths never. The ideas were not the thing which can be hid or forced to do so. So the emblems of reality lingered as before. The man heard the strokes at door. He was not alone to perceive. The truths are self-evident. So it was not the man, it was mankind who witnessed.  But there was no one to quote why it happened time and again. For this question was not mere as it seemed. It certainly had to do something with their minds as well; and no one was ready to accept the remedy.

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The shadow was sentenced to death. Execution would occur tomorrow or the day after. Not a joke. Most probably, the ship⁽¹⁾   would arrive the next day . The light in the shade would be heavy enough to be buried along with. There would be thunders and gales on the land of gods. An earthquake might hit them by its discrepancy. So the think tanks suggested filling the whole light in a crock and throw somewhere away. Seems a pun? Remember my dear, when wit is auctioned in markets, such pranks take birth. These are inevitable. Not a long after this, neither such wisdom nor these auctioneers survive. Just the tall tales exist for cautioning.

…………..

Glom after gloom. Like an onion, every sheath had the same thing. Darkness. A journey to nowhere. No signs of end post. Unaware of even what was the starting line. Darkness is actually the absence of light. But the travellers of night had just witnessed the dusk. What is light was an unseen problem. So they continued roving in utter blackout. Kept on moving about circles for centuries.

…………..

The knocks at the door will never stop. The rays of light will make their way through. The door will be flapped countless times until it gets shattered. To avoid disturbance, the sleepwalkers will try to fix its latches. They cannot, but they will act eccentrically. Their bizarre activities of burial of light will not be ended to keep the meanders on lusterless roads. But the door will be crackled and unleash the reality. The immortal ideas will rule one day. That will be the Socrates’ day.

1-In Socrates’ time, the person sentenced to death was given the bowl of poison on the arrival of a ship. There was some myth attached to it.