There was a hunter.As his father had left hefty fortune,so his avocation, pastime and hobby,was hunting. He rose early in the morning, took breakfast and went for hunting. He knew the season and passage of birds.so he calmly sat under bushes. The humid air of summer soothed his bearded craggy face.he lit a cigarette. Waiting is the part of hunting, so he waited.everyone knows that waiting pays meed,so he waited and waited well.Hunters have some amazing qualities: they never get bore of waiting, they are never crestfallen, they are never dispirited.a novice will weep of nudge but hunters are acclimated. He sat for four hours. He saw an old man coming towards bushes. He knew that fellow. the old enfeebled destitute has poverty stricken wife and they lived in nearby hut.Once this old fellow was a soldier. Now he has nothing except a worn out gun.Pakistan government never paid to the British Army retired pensioners. So he lived on alms,or sometimes by doing petty jops.the old fellow met the hunter almost everyday. They will exchange the salutations. And then like always,the old fellow will ask for a bullet, which hunter will always refuse.
Today,the hunter hasn't fired single bullet. So he gave one bullet to old man.who always wanted one.he had told the hunter that he will hunt a night-giant bird.the hunter always laughed and told the old man that there is no night-giant bird.the old man will always insist and the hunter would refuse but today the hunter gave him one.the old man accepted the gift delightedly. The hunter thought that it has been a year that he is beseeching one bullet but I always refused. Now its better that he won't bother me over bullet. The old man looked at bullet like he has found treasure.
Next day when hunter passed near hut.he heard a woman mourning. When he looked inside hut the old man was laying his head open.he had shot himself directly in head.he had shot the giant-night bird,the hunter thought.


Written by...Qublai khan

Short story: Rise of Phoenix

He still remembers that day,and how can he forget it because that day changed his life.he was going for suicide. This self-immolation was different. A thoroughly contemplated and cerebrated suicide.he cogitated, for a whole year.so that suicide wasn't usual or customary.He was an abject, contemptible, and destitute creature,as he thought of himself.he was an outcast,a derelict living in his moral gaol.how all that started, from life of loving guy to morally corrupt person.two factors contributed to his agony,desertion of friends and his own follies. Truancy of friends was expected.he was deserted like a dying monarch is betrayed or fallen warrior is left behind in war.His own follies were colossal. He started taking drugs,loans from moneylenders on heavy interest rate.His parents would always scold him.his remaining blood was squeezed by his relatives.so thought about suicide. Like little bricks make a big room,his plan for suicide was made by little contributions, from his friends.relatives,parents,neighbours and class fellows.All of his kin and kith bequeathed in his destruction. But what was his fault? A mistake,a sin,a misunderstanding or call it a crime.he went to a prostitute,he was swayed by newly aroused adolescence harmonies.somebody told the police. The police came.Apprehended and handcuffed him.he bribed the police. They let him go.but to his bad luck, the news reached his home.he wasn't the first person on the face of earth to do that kind of act but according to his parents he brought shame to his family name,he brought shame to his village, to his nation and to his country, yes,to his country; that was what they thought. A year passed but no one will accept him.suicide is better than life of misery,he thought. So he went to famous suicidal bridge. He stood upon the bridge. Gathered his strength. I am not afraid of death, he thought, I am not coward. Than an old man appeared on bridge, smiling,wearing worn out clothes like that of shepherds. He came near him smiling and said,I think you should give another chance to your life.just one chance.if that fail,then I will assist you in suicide. He feebly opened his mouth, why? I think you deserve a chance.start your life from new end. Go to some another city,or I suppose big city.no one knows no one in big cities. Give me your hand,come and I will drop you at bus station. Some inexplicable force brought him down of that bridge. He came to Karachi.he worked,prospered,married. Now, he is owner of chain of hotels in the big cities of Pakistan.he regret his suicidal thoughts even today and pray for that Shepherd everyday, when he see his eldest son going to school in morning.


Guys,that's a true story,he told me in murree.I cannot reveal his name.but I took permission to write his story as an inspiration. Many of young folks,when confronts some serious situations in their life,they think that their life ended there.but there are always other options.


Written by...qublai khan

Sent from my LT750 using Tapatalk

Short story...illimitable Love


Obsessed with story writing, I contacted my ninety years old mentor.he told me to go to the hospitals and prisons, you will surely get some good material for stories. When enquired,why prison and hospital? He smiled,looked at me and said,‘most of the stories ends at prisons and hospitals. So without delay,I texted my doctor friend that I am coming to see you tomorrow. He was busy with patients.he would look at patient a cursory glance and would swiftly rub his pen over paper to produce some ineligible alien words.he greeted me surprise and affinity. Left patients and brought me to an air conditioned room.after some formal conversation, I came to my point.so tell me do you know any special patients, who have imprinted their memory in your mind,I said. He smiled, no yar,nothing special, all patients are same,he said.Anything which may have angered you,I enquired. He sipped tea for a while, then said,yes! There is couple, married for 10 years.they fight every second day.Husband would bring his wife on bicycle, bruised and injured. Sometimes they pique me.I wanted to see that husband and wife,so I asked my doctor friend. Fortunately,or say unfortunately, husband had beaten his wife on that day and they were in the hospital.I asked my doctor friend to arrange my meeting with that couple.so he did.when I saw the man,I didn't noticed any maniac or psychopathic marks.he looked educated and refined. When I asked him why he beat her wife.he said she make me beat her.when I turned towards his wife she said,he beats me that's why I irritate him.when I said,why don't you divorce each other.they said together, we are fine,we will manage it someday.
How is that possible. How can they live with daily beatings. Does love comes in different forms?

Sent from my LT750 using Tapatalk

Am I allowed to criticize?

__________________
♥ Alis volat propriis ♥

Yes of course,you are profoundly welcome here....

Wait for new short story,the coconut

Okay, the first story. The Giant Nightbird.
(Ignoring the grammatical errors). It is my favorite so far. The old man's struggle with depression is portrayed nicely and I like the general idea but I wish that I had gotten to know the characters more. At least I should've liked to peek inside our protagonist's head I mean how did he feel when his bullet killed the old man. Did he feel guilty, did he care at all?

Second story is a good one. It is got a bit of humor in it and sadness and inspirational stuff. Good stuff but you need to format it like a story.
No, it doesn't. They don't love each other. They are a bunch of cowards afraid of the unknown which awaits them after divorce. And No! Maniacs or psychopaths are not the only ones who inflict abuse. They are normal among people, charming, funny, all around family men. I don't like this at all.

Eagerly waiting for the coconut.

__________________
♥ Alis volat propriis ♥

Well,thank you very much Nazish.I appreciate your interest,and your precious time.I will try to overcome my mistakes. I am grateful that you honestly evaluated my stories.
I will try my best in writing The Coconut.

Sent from my LT750 using Tapatalk

THE COCONUT
It always bothered me that folks attribute only a single characteristic to a personality. They will see a good person as good,like always,anywhere.we take many things for granted,like a villian will be absolutely bad in every situation,as presented in movies and novels.This kind of stereotyping is inconsistent with real life.we all have dark as well as bright sides.sometimes, affected by T.V and commercial novels,we attribute a character to a person on whim,on guess or appearance.For example if we attribute a person as drug addict,we will only view him as an addict, taking drugs twenty four hours but even if he may be sober most of the time.or for example if we attribute a person as a tyrant, he will always look as a tyrant.we won't try to figure that it has family, friends, relatives, and in some cases even lovers.For instance, the most notorious of the recent history tyrants,Adolf Hitler;He had a large chunks of friends, and numerous love affairs and he was prolific writer.Now,the proverb that ‘First impression is the last’ seems meaningless and incompatible with daily life.As I personally found that this proverb has lost its credibility. In this story, as the name suggests, I acquainted a person who was a coconut. He wore an outer hard shell but was soft and fragile internally.His appearance, disguised his soft inner self. He wore a hard shell of coconut, which made him seemingly tough and resilient guy.but in reality, he was a tender heart and facile person.
The first impression was formed in university's canteen.A group of boys laughing joyously over some incomprehensible joke,entered in canteen. A novice would have easily judged that who was the leader of the group. He was center of attention. Like Akbar the Great with his ‘Nau Ratan’(famous nine companions of Akbar).Wearing latest fashion Goggles inspired from Dabbang of Salman khan,he waved his iPhone, like General Raheel shareef waving his cane of command.one could have easily guessed that he represented the elite class,the one percentage group of capitalism ridden country. My attraction towards him was natural. I was sipping my tea and was exhausted by the two hours long lecture.so,revolutionary ideas rushed in my mind.the capitalism and socialism, both has failed to deliver; socialism being irrational and incompatible with human nature,capitalism has also enslaved humans,so there should be a system which can diminish the negative effects of socialism and capitalism. Islamic system could have proved best option but the term ‘islamic system’ has thousands of interpretations by our mullah brethren from different sects. I was cerebrating about the income inequality in Pakistan, that suddenly my attention was diverted by a bang.The leader,the elite capitalist has slapped the tea boy.the tea boy was whining, mumbling sorry.he callously looked at him and barked some inappropriate words.the tea-boy had brought tea without sugar.so he hit tea boy.After a momentary pause,the laughter of the group continued. And I resorted to my previous thoughts. Who is responsible for this,i thought ,Liaqat Ali khan; who delayed land reforms and gave us landlord Aristocratic society, or Ayub khan who spend billions on agriculture while forgetting the Education.A flood of allegations gushed through my mind, blaming politicians, judges,and military men alike,and all it came from a single slap from typical aristocrat. Beating of poor workers is common and acceptable in our society. When we see any rich beating poor,we tacitly agree with the situation and voice comes from our soul which say, “o poor! Your crime of being poor is unpardonable, so you should bear the grunts, you have committed such a grave sin that your generations will rust in this filth.
After tea,I lighted cigarette and moved with slow pace towards bus stand.
Sometimes, when you see a person, you have an unconscious feeling that there is an unfathomable attraction with this person and you have something common and he or she will be your companion in some way or other.Like sometimes, when you visit a place for the first and you say to yourself, o! I have been here before. When I saw him for first time in canteen,a bell rang inside me ringing. “you know him for centuries ”.
First semester passed in a hustle bustle. My knowledge about Him increased manifold. I came to know that once he tried to strangle his girlfriend to death due to her fickleness,and he was notoriously drunkard,drinking sometimes even in class.he always keep fire arms His uncle was a renowned politician and he seemed to be apparent heir of their family politics.Every news about him was more horrific than the previous one.Despite in same department, we never encountered each other in these six months. Later on,we met by chance. I wanted to participate in the annual ceremony of our department and he was the chief organizer. So we met in his hostel's room-cum-office.There was a gigantic sound system touching the ceiling,showing pomposity and riches.my salutations went unnoticed in loud music as he stretched his hands towards me.he met me with solemn indifference.one of his so-called friends massaging his feet and another head.Both boys were massaging His Highness with diligence like solving a matter of national importance. I didn't shake my hands with them because they were drenched in yellow mustard oil. The leader looked at me like a monarch watching his subservient folks.the massage boys were students,like me,like him.this kind of students are common in our educational institutions, who will degrade themselves,merely for drugs,loaves or even lodging.this situation perturbed me.those students were not here to massage some bloody landlord,they were here for their future, their parents,their career.than why this drudgery and enslavement.my thoughts started rebelling me.but it was imprudent to say something about someone's personal matters, especially when you are a guest.In short,I discussed my speech with him and he approved.

After that day,we met several times.he was quite nice to me and always call me sir.he had developed a high regard for me.sometimes, his cronies would say,Bhai don't give such respect to teachers as he gives to this novice, pointing towards me.
He asked me several times for the dinner but I gloriously declined.one day he texted me to come to his room.it was 3 am of night and i was preparing notes for next day test.when I reluctantly went there after his dozen SMS,I was astonished to see that he was crying. There was no one in room except him.he was whining like a child.when I entered the room,he hugged me like a lost child meet his mother. The situation was unexpected and quite gloomy. I let him cry for few minutes, then I seated him on sofa and sat beside him.what's the problem Jelly!what's this,what happened? I said.
He didn't reply. He straightened his head facing towards ceiling. He laid in this position for two hours.I remained silent to let him calm.his tears kept running. I gave him a glass of water,which he drank.
‘sir,do you think that I am a good person ’he whispered meekly.
‘Of course you are Jelly’,I said like a matter of fact.
He replied with a sarcastic smile.lighted a cigarette. And lay there gazing in air.
You know sir,I have everything in my life,everything for which a young man would crave.but the reality is,that I am the most unfortunate and ill-fated person.I yearn for the love of my mother.she don't consider me her son.she thinks I am the result of my father's ambitiousness.she hates my father.my mother is right.my father killed her lover and than pressurised her family for marriage. She never accepted that marriage. My father never gave her place of wife in house.and what can you expect from a drunkard man,who spends nights in company of dancing whores.I was grinded from both sides.My parents would always fight.I don't remember a single moment in our family when we all laughed together, or sat together or even ate together. They left me at the mercy of maids and servants. I was dozens of time abused by servants at an early age.so sir,do you think, with this kind of childhood, I could have developed a normal personality like you.My past made me devil.Now I don't believe in any love or any emotions like this.I know that all the cronies will vanish the day my father stopped supporting me financially.

His harangue ended with deep breath. I remained silent,speechless.

That's how we judge the the individuals. We look at the surface and say,wow!what a life.but we don't know how much tears are there behind a smiling face.Just like when we see or meet a successful person,we assume that if this person with such an average personality and looks can become successful, then I will also be one but we don't bother to enquire about the hardships and struggle, which this successful man has endured.


It always bothered me that folks attribute only a single characteristic to a personality. We should see things with different angles.when Jelly told me his story,about his bleak past,I felt sorry for him.this was the pity when you see a patient on deathbed.



Written by qublai khan

Its amazing that you can come up with such ideas for the general writings and these short stories. Very impressive. Will hopefully be reading your books someday

__________________
There is no one to stop you from succeeding other than yourself