Aaj bhi hum unhein AAP ker ke bulaien

Muhabbat woh lafz jiski awaz bezar kerjaye,

Dil jab kisi ka inkar ker jaye,

Humsey izhar kerwatey they, qasmein leitey they, wadey kerwatey they,

Muhabbat ke nam per tuhmat lagtey they,

Jism se kheiltey they,

Jazbat se martey they.

In zakhmon ko arse se hum bhar na sakey,

Is jism ke nishan mit na sakey,

Zehn o Dil per cha ker woh, humein akeiley

andheirey meh rulatey they.

Is andheirey meh rahat si milney lagi,

Unki yad humse dur ja na saki.

Humari muhabbat ko zalil ker ke woh,

Rab janey kiski bahon meh gaye.

Hum beithey hein idher sitaron ke neechey,

Badlon meh unka chehra bnaien,

Dil too gaya, jazbat mer gaye,

Magr aaj bhi hum unhein AAP ker ke bulaien.



For Ando, the Church of Light is architecture of duality – the dual nature of existence – solid/void, light/dark, stark/serene.  The coexisting differences leave the church void of any, and all, ornament creating a pure, unadorned space.  The intersection of light and solid raises the occupants’ awareness of the spiritual and secular within themselves.



The One line drawing on the ceiling of Mills College Art Museum. 2010 installation by Chris Fraser is a horizontal aperture. Through the day it rapidly changes the effect of light on the space of size, 17 x 17 x 10’ (LWH).



The church of St Pierre in Firminy. The building is ever-changing with accidental waves of light projected across the walls from refracted sunlight that appear at certain times of the day and year. There are much smaller, circular openings that emulate star constellations twinkling and shimmering as the angle of sunlight changes and as the natural light becomes diffused or direct.

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“A plan of a building should be read like a harmony of spaces in light. Even a space intended to be dark should have just enough light from some mysterious opening to tell us how dark it really is. Each space must be defined by its structure and the character of its natural light.”

The “mysteriousness” of shadow was also closely linked to evoking silence and awe. For Kahn, while darkness evokes the uncertainty of not being able to see, of potential dangers, it also inspires deep mystery. It is in the hands of the architect to evoke silence, secret or drama with light and shadow – to create a “treasury of shadows,” a “Sanctuary of Art.”

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Light Grain is a minimalist residence located in Osaka Japan. The structure is characterized by a mesh metal grate that provides the residents with natural lighting without visual transparency to the pedestrians below. In addition, due to the proximity of neighboring homes, the architects created an interior courtyard to allow for additional illumination and air flow.



 The design of the building uses slits in the roof at the joining of two slabs which leads the formation of apertures leading natural light inside the building in a way that it has a cooling visual effect as well as an abstract light and shade effect.  Light comes from many sources, from the walls, the windows, and even the water. There is a play with reflection and refraction as a result of the water’s effect on the textured walls and the color of the walls. The light then creates an atmosphere that is serene, healing, and luminous; almost mysterious as to where it is coming from, similar to a cathedral.


 The design aims at creating a welcoming world which associates lights and shadows as well as shimmers and calm places in a serene atmosphere. It also aims at emphasizing the fascination generated by rare encounters.  It is rather unusual to find a built archipelago in the sea; it is even more uncommon to see that it is protected by a parasol flooded with a rain of lights. It is both a calm and complex place which clearly stands out in a series of museums that make a point of maintaining their differences and their authenticities.

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Aisa kyun hai ke aajki zindigi mein insan her kisi se aur her chiz se tang hai.

Koi humse bht pyar kerey, hum usse tang ajatey hein.

Koi humse bht nafrat kere to hum usse tang ajatey hein.

Koi humara bht khiyal kere, hum usse tang aajatey hein.

Koi humme poochey, humse sawal kere to hum usse tang ajatey hein.

Koi humaray kaam kerey to hum usse bhi tang ajatey hein.

Aur koi na kerey to usse bhi tang rehtey hein.

Itni ghutton mein zindigi guzartey hein. Kisi ka hal poochney se pehle bhi sochtey hein. “Kahin woh mujhse tang to nahi ho rha.”

Pyar mein bhi sochna perta hai.

“Kahin mein koi had paar na kerdon. Kahin woh mere se uljhen mehsoos na kere. Kahin meri muhabbat uske liye ghuttan na ban jaye. Kahin mera sawal usse door na le jaye.”

Kash aisa hota ke yeh sab sochey bagheir hum apni muhabbat ka ozhar ker saktey. Phir chahe woh muhabbat aik ustad keliye ho. Maan Baap keliye ho. Behn bhai keliye ho. Dost ahbab keliye ho. Ya us insan keliye jisko hum rozana door se deikhtey hein per usse bat kerne ki himmat nahi rekhtey. Ya us dost keliye jisse shayad hum dosti se berh ker mhbt kertey hein per keh nahi saktey. Ya us bachey keliye jo humarey ghr mein kam kerne waley ka hai, aur isiliye hum usse galey laganey se katratey hein. Ya us hasti keliye jisse lafzon mein qaid kerna bhi mushkil hai.


Accused of being what you are not

And that is what you show.

For the real is fake; and the fake be real,

Assumptions, presumptions everywhere

You fight for a chance, a second, a minute.

Never hoping for beyond an hour.

But seems to be that those who say, a beautiful mind is all that matters.

Would watch the shapes and forms from a far; as your heart freezes, breaks and shatters.

And then those tiny pieces, reflect origins never explored. The negatives make the outer realm, but the inner was so unknown.

You work so hard to hide the existent, the result is a gossamery, groundless extinction.

And then when confusions sieze dreams and lives you have to just justify:

Depression, stress, hysteria and that is all what is left of life.


The shortness of life, the length of hours.
Everything gone before is a flashing moment.
Everything today is idle and still.
But as today turns to yesterday. Its again a flash, and a spinster of second.
Everything tomorrow is the unpredictable future.
We wait and plan. We make our hours seem like years. We watch needles of a clock now and again. Watching time hanging in the air.
Our minutes turn to years as the ticking of the clock penetrates our ears.
One day, which maybe our last.
We will see life as our past.
A series of blurred old images will run through our mind.
It will consist of all our memory,
and time is what then we will envy.
As it passes without a trace, in finess and grace

We tried and tried to prison it in numbers.
We tried to stop it with curtians and blinds.
But time had wisdom and power undefined.
It was long and listless. £t turned short as bliss.
but as it took us to its end. All we endured was now a memory.

I lay on my bed. The clock still exists. The digits change, the needles move. But now I know the wisdom of time. My yesterdays are a flash of memory. My future remains in non-existence.
My now maybe where I breathe my last. Without count and wait.

I shall live my last.


Tall and graceful, he walked into my life. It was odd to watch him from the corner of my eyes. Sitting their. Silent and still. Under the humid heavy air. I watched him as he looked into nothing. His sight travelled far into the universe. His posture strong, his hands resting on top of each other. Sculpted out of the finest clay. Uniqueness set in every particle. Elegant and desireable were all his ways.
He sat there with two others and another and again another.
The world moved in a lapse of time yet he stays in the present or far behind.
Its peaceful to watch the lazy, liesurely gesturs of remarkable youth in a space so nimble and a time agile.
His body Lithe as he rises off a seat which compromises. A glimpse, and my heart cheers. A step he takes and now hes closer. My body shudders. My heartbeat fastens. My hands shiver. and i have to lie. Its the cold that does so to me and not your eyes.
I look at the ground to hide my fright. Im unable to raise my head. i feel as though if I do I might embarrass myself. But I cant resist. Its way too difficult. My eyes wish to see him just one more time.
Reluctantly and sluggishly i raise my eyes. In hope to see a dazzling sight.
But thats it. that is all i deserved
the space is a rush of bodies with no souls. overwhelmed with noise.
Since peace has left it hollow with void.

Real need

She walked in an empty room, wrapped in blanket, and nothing else. She walked in slowly. Close to her bed.

She was looking for pleasure in pain. because the opium to mental stress is physical pain.

But no one was their not a soul to hear.

She climbed on to the bed. and lay down. Immersed in thought. She was blind in mind. she looked at the cealing. With its beautiful plains. Levels of plains. One below the other.

But that wasnt what she saw.

She visualised her life. Had a few flashbacks. All the visuals diffused in the air between her and the roof .

Hours passed as seconds, and second like hours. time was immeasurable. Time became infinity. Her needs grew stronger, her wants didnt matter. Their was nothing she wanted anymore but she had a need. A need of pain. a need of cure.

The room went dark. and a creek of the door shook her out of her state. The stillness broke as the door started to move. A blurred figure of handsome walked in. Or she thought. As her thoughts were dreams and reality a mirage

The door closed shut and all she could see was the blurred light of her eyes in the pitch black dark. It had no shape. It only had sounds.

The sound of a belt being un buckled. And slipped out of the pants.

And then their was pain. And exactly what she needed. Not sound except the belt whipping down her back. She had waited for that pain in patience beyond compare. She could feel herself getting warm in the cold wet air. Each second brought a blow. Which she wished would never stop.

Because now was the pleasure that every soul fears, she felt her blood seaping through her skin. It came to the surface blushing her body and relaxing her mind.

Soon it stopped and another stillness followed.

Life came back home. Where it belonged.


Sitting in my room I am alone. I think of death and I am alone. I breathe in air and I am alone. I sit in a crowd yet alone. I talk to stranger too familiar. I get advise from people who dont know me. Be responsive and You will not blast. Be easy and you will be happy. I tried all of this yet Im alone. I have freinds and they leave me alone. I have prents they dont know I am alone. alone in itslef is so alone. Every breath is a moment alone. Every night the moons alone. it exist alone. It dies alone. Dragon dragon the one who does not talk. A dragon Ill be to be alone. It turn out that existence is a word alone. And we in itself is a ‘w’alone and an ‘e’ alone. Every letter has distance. Every letter is alone. A passage has meaning yet every word is alone. In this world of existence your body is alone and in the mind of your body you are alone. And that is exactly why you and I are meant to be so alone. I live alone. I will die alone. My heart is a well filled with people. The plural in itslef is alone. My brain is a mine of thought so jummbled. Each thought in itself is so alone. Here in this room I have lots of things. Each thing is to exist alone. Time is a plural of seconds alone. but what about alone? Alone is the one who is never alone.

I Will Be Relieved.

thought & art

She sat alone, in a corner, in a big house. The house was big, because she felt small. As years had passed, she realized: her muscles weak, her bones brittle, her heart beating slower by the day, and silent by night. But there were times, when her heart beat fast, at speed of light. Those times did come, but as rare and as frequent as the full moon. And here she is, in her lows right now. Sitting peacefully at sight, but a grenade inside. Still as a wall. sitting on its axis, motionless. The only sound around her came from the powerful inhales and exhales of her breath. It takes an effort to breathe. ‘I need power I don’t have. I am so alone.’

And there she sits. with legs crossed at the knees. Her numb white feet in anguish and pain, not willing to touch the ground beneath…

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