By Mushtaque B Barq
Blows of the early morning zephyr nearly inaudibly and unnoticeably passed over the freshly bathed leaves. The overloaded buds are lured to utter mystic verses without sonant breath for some reasons known to morning mist. May be it is only to steer clear of traitorous thorns licking the same dew meant to foster the live roots that in reciprocity ascertains growth. Who knows the objective of breeze, the conviction of quietude and intention of conspiratorial yens of autumn? A bedecked backyard under the blistering sun is flogged callously like a culprit on the dry sweltering sand of a vast desert for his transgressions by the one who is overloaded by felony. All this is granted to the one who breaks his sleep with the first streak of light as a souvenir by eerie environment and awesome preternatural presence of the idiosyncrasy of mystic music. The one who keeps his eggs of imagination and ignorance under his comfy and outcrop tummy to anticipate pullets of myriad manifestation, may not even in a distant dream be adept to make it true. His intriguing romance under that petal polished comforter all the way may lead him to be an astonishing citizen of utopia to manufacture dreams that are treacherously murdered by a stroke of rationale fury. All what he gets hold of is a mound of debris of his own imaginative junkyard being pulled down with a stroke of truth. The somber silence out there in the garden amidst distilled favonian wind is booty to eremite who lives to love in privacy to obtain sanitization from corporeal requirements to make a purchase of a kernel of his own ‘being’ to comply with Divine will.
The heaving of verdant meadows, the rush of brooks and towering virgin peaks of mystified mountains are indeed a voluminous corpus of pity for those whose ablution is assured by anonymous seraphs who fetch the water of holy well like morning mist carries over its massive wings the early whisper on the earth, making a devotee to respond merrily. The wide open blue eye of the nature, although seems shrouded in the emaciated mist of mysteries and the one who is out to handshake with the dawn can find the means to delve into the substantial enormity of the peripheral globe being controlled by the nature. This try-out may lead to achievable aspiration to acknowledge autognosis, opulence to noble soul. Genteel composure of blooming runner on one side and the harmony avowed by sentient annotations on the other hand is a welcome gesticulation of contentment attained after an earnest exertion of perking up the threads of love to darn dilapidated hems of humanity. Like a fresh dew drop at the tilt of an arched leaflet geared up to cherish its own roots, one has to be on toes to let go the whole lot of concern down to his own spring of which he is simply a skimpy drop. The responsibility of this sort enshrines compassion equipped with fellow feeling, a righteousness that only gracious souls hold for the welfare of the humanity. Being responsible means being loyal to one and all. Loyalty is a God given gift and those who are loyal must stay so not as an epitome of love, but as a true guide to motivate and lure the rest to follow him. Being loyal is an evidence that one knows how to nurse and nurture the greenery of love. It is on the sure cards that a man who posts himself in the pleasing coverlets may tag these efforts as tosh for his languid and putrid performances. Only those who dare not to dig a well in their own compound goes out to get a hold of a glass of fresh water early in the morning only to display their masquerade posture governed by laziness. Owing to this ineptitude, they drift off and barely eavesdrop under the shades where birds carrying myriad tunes copied by devotional singers to be in a queue of stanch followers to please the Lord unlike late risers for the grounds of their contiguous musing devoid of meaning. Their strings break into bits only when birds leave their nests to earn a grain after roving from field to field. For a sensitive mind, these little flying machine are inspirational angels moving all over the globe to deal with newer heights of obtaining that vital grain which they carry back to their nests to nosh their little ones and never show signs of exertion for they move and move till crimson romance of dusk waves its frill and lifts up a placard reading : “Enough for the day” and they brood over intensely before drooping their necks and wait for the first streak of light to join the orchestra arranged by co-workers of nature only to sing a song to persuade entire humanity to break the sleep and join the congregation who in their sonorous accent say their prayers to please the entire cosmos. One who comes out to greet the early sun, he may for better reasons enjoy and perceive things around him for self analysis. He reads not from the books on the desk, but from the freshness on the blades of grass and stays connected with nature as a representative of it.
Those who toss the quilt and enjoy the luxury of dew like a devotee whose rosary runs like a rivulet till it reaches the sea of immense depth are the ones who take pleasure in getting lost in the loneliness to earn that preternatural bliss which promises peace. To attain peace is to attain glory and glory is attainable if at all one is ready to glorify himself. He is like an early bird who effortlessly uncovers his prey, unlike others who have to put everything on to satiate the fire of their bellies and arrive, only after consuming what all they have earned and left nothing to fall back upon.
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”
