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Come alone or bring your stone hearted friends ;  For once let’s show them how it will end.

Shying away from what your end will be is stupid. So, don’t be stupid — Come, for once, come visit my grave.

Stonehearted turn soft when they visit this compound, of dead men and women, lying breathless – waiting for their final journey towards beginning of another end. I am not warning you, I am requesting you – for many stonehearted came here and I could see tears in their eyes.

After seeing their final resting place, some cried like babies, some still could not let go of their masks and pretended to be ‘normal’ and fought with their eyes, who wanted to shed tears, but their image would be ruined — ah, the mask!

Here on my right lies a famous fashion designer, who designed expensive clothes for rich women, but now lies enslaved in simple sleeveless cloth. He did not wear cheap clothes, for it was a sign of poverty, but now this very simple white piece of cloth covers his body.

And on my left, a businessman, whose pharmaceutical company made millions selling drugs to sick but none of his drugs could save him. He used to brag about his riches, and was never satisfied with his house, so he kept building new castles to accommodate himself but he now lies here beside me, buried under ‘cheap’ stone.

In front of me, a spoiled brat from the elite, who had nothing to do in life, so he kept racing and it eventually took his life. His daddy bought him new cars whenever he requested – Oh those fine pieces of metal, the Mercedes, the Buggatis, the Jaguars. But the poor fellow rode a wooden box as his last car – when he was buried here few years ago.

Some here, in my new neighborhood, did not learn to serve, did not learn to give even when God gave them the worldly blessings. But now their time has passed and they cannot move an insect from their noses. Oh here lies those whose only purpose of living was to tan their faces, and be social in the ‘hip-crowd’ but now they have died and disappeared from their social circles, without making any difference.

Some here were big bosses, who used to roam with their heads high in their black suits and carrying branded leather briefcases. They used to hire and fire people daily but see if you can spot them? Who is who? And whose is what?

I came to know the one lying behind me did not like to eat cheap food, now there is no café to visit nor no food to eat.

Time clicked, tick a tock and that was it. All that we thought we possessed was left behind and here, only moments of truth live.

More about the moments of truth later…

Dead Man Talking Part I

Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi | Plastic Teaz: An Insight

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