Write For The sake of Writing Something

So here comes the mood swing of the age. It is normal. Relax.

Be more than happy or be more than sad. This is what Rubab needs. But this is not realty, is it?

Happiness is only happiness, not extra and sadness only sadness, not more than sadness. And the tragedy is most of the time we are stuck between, not more than happiness and more than sadness, but between happiness and sadness.

Isn’t it a tragedy?

And the tragedy which makes it remarkable is that nobody considers it a tragedy. And the tragedy which seasons this tragedy with even more bitterness is those nobodies include our loved ones only-those loved ones with whom we want to share our tragedy.

So here she goes.

Rubab had the tragedy. And she shared. She shared with the one who once had dreamt her. Was he her true love? He was the one who promised to share her life. And life does not include happiness or tragedies only. It also includes most part of our life that hangs between the two. So she could share. And she shared the tragedy with the dreamer. And she said:

“We call a day, a day

And night, a night

But there is a part of time between the two

We do not recognize.”

And he said, “No, it is night time. Can’t you see the clear black sky?”

He was right sky was blacker than black.