Author Archives: Maham Suhail

About Maham Suhail

My journey through life takes me to strange places, within and without of me; and everywhere, the strangeness melts into sweet familiarity! I am a Light-seeker.

Wo phir, tum se mujh ko ghairnay lagay hain:
Nazron mein, munn’h hum se yunn phairnay lagay hain…
Tiray intishaar ke nashay mein simtay kuch iss tara’h,
Durya kinaray zinda khwab bakhairnay lagay hain.


‘Mission: De-Complicate the De-Humanization’

Note 1:
Anything, and just about ANYthing, when pursued purely from the faith centre in thought and in action, has the potential to reach maximum potency in terms of this-worldly manifestation; let alone other-worldly manifestations (at more advanced levels).

And if you ask me, how does one reach that faith centre? Well, it’s already within you. Just direct your conscious thought to it, a little at a time: It’s that simple! 😊



Gazed deep into your misery:

Something white, cold,

shining, longing to be


to be free.

It was never black, your dark;

Never the black of death despair,

Never too blinding, never,

as I see.


Crumbling you, held in me:

My abyss, a whirlpool cradle

carried your absence

more wearily, than

the presence of your trials,

the salt of your tears.


I couldn’t see, what was to be.


Never too strange to appear

strangers, to the ever-speculating

eye: in unison of mad hearts;

in a flight of minds, minds

wearing out in chains

of amplified awareness.


I can be you one day.

I’m in the becoming

of your evolution; never meant

to leave you alone with

your demons: now my demons too;

forces raised from graves

l locked eons ago; presuming

I, the warrior, the mother,

had lulled them into forever slumber.

But, they dug tunnels to you,

to manifest yet again, to me.


In this chapter though, there is no fright.


Embrace you and our demons, till

they all turn human, till their venom

loses potency, in the womb

of this Reverend Mother.



Coming of Age


Dust-storm Selfie


The curls, Mother,
they get more troubled each day.
The black quietly fades into stranger grey.

A whisper evades….

Prayer as a melody:
a wordless melody of the aching heart,
escapes into infinite pastures of the gods.

The throes of longing were always,
That Glory of White, dazzling,
as water crystals in the summer sun;
Whoever said it’d ever be easy!?
Whoever did, a fool in vain was one!



How do I tell what it is
when it is, and it is
How is what, that ought be,
…but is not.
We know what it is:
we know not
The little we know,
suffices for now;
fulfills not.
Satisfies desire,
satiates not
the thirst that breathes
beyond desire.

I live here;
does not imply,I live there not.DSC_0010

Celestial Transitions

Celestial Transitions

In the sunlight, there is noise: an unharmonic noise of a turbulence above me, as I am deep into layers, buried beneath pressures that seems to defend me. They defend me as walls, which I am not sure if are choking me further or helping me break the ruthlessness of the storm.

In the dark, there is silence. There is silence of Nothing, a nothing reaching out to me in hope to be seen & felt as something.

In white light dimming drowsily beneath sheets of smoky silk, I am following footprints from a life before.

The light steals me from a self-knowing best achieved in a tranquility of perceived ignorance. In the pain on this ignorance, I may have known myself better. But we have to wait now, for another day to pass; we have to wait a half-life or so, more.

I See

Escape from an escape, into an escape yet more magnified than the last: And here I am, being in a place which I do not know.
This is what was predicted; this was prophecised in dreams that I forgot when I had waken to the bigger dream of Reality.
It was always grey, it was always grey. Who am I to say I have learned to see!? What I see may not exist the way I see so; or, what I thought I saw may never have existed.
It is what we choose to see, and what we are made to see. Or, what we see and never register in memory; conversely, what we register though we may have never seen so.
Seeing is believing? Not any more. Knowing is believing: And, what I never saw with the ‘naked’ eye of this body of clay, I may know better, having seen with the eye of my Spirit.