Rising from the ashes

By: Ali Rasheed

I always wanted and still want to be someone people call exceptional. I wanted and still
want to live a life of a legend, a life lived by my heroes of both the fictional and real world. I
want not fame but reputation, that would keep me alive even after I am dead and power that
would help me fill the voids of the world, help me fulfill the dreams resting in the restless
eyes of my countrymen. So that I could stand up with something in my account in front of the
hand that feeds me. But lately I have been passing through bedlam.
I was always engaged in good reads and so was an uncle of mine when he was of my
age. I am studying in the same splendid college he did. He never lacked that capability, nor
the intelligence, nor the skills, to be one day called exceptional, but he got struck by slow and
steady mayhem. The bricks were laid in the most undesirable way and fixed with such
sophisticated mortar, that led to the perfect construction of an imperfect man. A man who
quarrels with the people he loves and gets reactive knowing all values of proactiveness and so
do I with my parents and siblings in the most moronic way even on the most ignorable
matters. He's addicted to his prostitutes and drinks as I am to my fetishes. He has his
addictions and I have mine. Still having quite a good status and salary, he changes six jobs in
a year and is still at his home with nothing in his hands and so, am I with nothing in my
hands. Will I end up like him?
Is that really the bitter truth. No! Our hands might be empty but still we have something
in our hands and that's the power to change ourselves. Inside out. I still haven't lost me nor
the situation and I think he might think the same. Its never to late to start again though Its
never easy but its always possible.
" A sign on the door, it read 'fate'
Two arrows pointed to two gates,
Am I going to heaven or hell?
A question I have always asked myself."
(Rare Americans: Brittle Bones Nicky)
Its often quoted that when a Shaheen becomes aged, when he can't glide in the sky the
way he used to do in his juvenile days, nor can he snore or prey the way he did in his graceful
youth. He resides to the rocks in the mountains far away from anyone's approach. There he
pulls his aged feathers out of his scalp. He breaks his weak beak with the and then he
salivates and preys for new feathers and beak. God bestows upon him new feathers and beak
and he again glides, prays and snores as he did once.
What the Shaheen does is that he gets out of his megalomania. He redeems and bows
in front of his God and against his pride and glamour. He shows spirit for change by
removing his feathers and breaking his beak and so, he gets his reward. Can't I do the same,
can't my uncle do the same and can't you do the same. Is it to hard to understand the dire need
of now or is it easy to let our lives waste and dreams die. We are the pilots of our planes. We
have the free will to chose the right and wrong way and if chose the wrong we still have a
chance to go back to the crossroad and start again. We may have to fight with ourselves but
for the greater good we will.
 "You won't know your worth son, until you take a hit
And you won't find the beat, until you lose yourself in it
You will never learn to fly now 'till you are standing up at the cliff
And you can't truly love, until you have given up on it."
(Rising Against: Satellite)
With our pure hearts, we can still do the best of bests and leave the rest. All would come to a
decent end some day or night. Slow and steady, losing and claiming we will cross all the
hurdles and obstacles and we will still rise, as a phoenix rises from ashes.

(Credit: Depositphotos)