How if the soul wonders not: Shakeel Phullan
Thy each say and a single act are remembered, the moments when souls eagerly greeted for investigation of ultimate reality. The flashback reminds me the narration of a beautiful soul who remaked “A mad’s world is full of madness and stupidities in which one always loves to find the true meaningfulness of life.”
Forsooth, it was the hardest-hit for the Soul to bear the unbearable griefs. How unsafest and unsecured she was with unrestful days and nights, threatened with inflicted pains.
The reasonless and aimless even existed not at all, yet the stranger, whose silence permeated within monstrous society underwent from a great dilemma; was criticized by unbelievability of course of actual-existence of everything. Although her frankness speaks aloud, yet the outsiders blamed for nothingness in madness. The possessed-power of reasons, she had, superseded the misconception of unrealistic perception of what they believed doesn’t exist. Each arguement and claim that she opposed undoubtedly, symbolized by ruination of factual imagination and affirmed the bitterness of truthfulness,
Though it was apologetic about the spoken-truths, but what not she apologized with unforgettable reminiscence. Each word narrated with cutest smiles, full of mirths and later became heartless world for her. Ways disappeared, seized and locked-up with burying her alive; her each word, spoke the reality, super-sensitivity, awken one to always be unstoppable and opposed the nepotistic practices. In seach of purity of soul, she was in_regained consciousness, investigating God’s unsatisfactory presence that indeed was must-have appeared at, hopelessly unseen.
The disturbing illusion mattered the most in searching the best version of factualism. There exists, the soul believed, no afterlife and virtuous heaven; everything appears mumbo-jumbo that people are superstitious. It confuses how become we are what we think of, once indeed ends up being put to death.
She who utters what comes, directs them with knowing each angle, strongly compelled to follow-up them. The road to pathless destination consists never-ending quests. She lives in an unsatisfied world, full of bogus companions whose leading load has no role and road.
The people disagreed strongly, looked at her with wrong eyes, considering her the guiltiest and an unbeliever whose core foundation of valid reality was just factualness of the opinions. For its accomplishment, she stayed firm to die hundred times than one, but never let the wrong perception be permeated at all. The sad truth always hits and hurts the most, but she spoke that frankly and fearlessly. She got no companions, locked in darkness, tortured, and did what not, yet the actual desire of her never ended rather stood up strongly to fight against wrongful deeds and beliefs. The purity of soul exists, she always tastes the mortality, never refuses at all.
The writer is a freelancer and studies Law at University of Turbat.