Strumming a Guitar

 
Bial Khan: Bachana


Strum a guitar... strum away the emptiness... strum away the questions that find no answers... strum away the inexplicable hollow that perpetually resides inside you; lurking silently in the background while you perform your everyday actions that have become a habit and your way of life. Each strum, a release of sorts from the numbness that seems to have taken over your senses for the most part of the day. Your emotions and expressions taking their positions mechanically; expressing and pasting on demand - their foundation weak and tired from exhaustion of use through the tests of time which they have idealistically beared up until now. Now the soul is weary. It seems to have become so from constant rebounds off walls that have been erected in its course by destiny. Walls that should have at the very least worked as stepping stones towards a better tomorrow, but even that - tomorrow that is - has managed to evade every today, to date. The soul has thus resolved itself into a state of acceptance from all blows that life continues to throw its way. The now familiar numbness helps thwart incoming pain; pain which knows where to go and dissipate. The scars have become accommodating. They have begun to help new ones heal faster. The soul has settled into a silence of a restless nature; silently yet restlessly allowing selective sounds in. On a lost stroll about in the company of its intermittent thoughts, it finds a release through a strum. The strum of a guitar today, akin to its favourite beads of prayer.