Wish once and for all one could take off that facade of civility & shout or abuse on the top of your voice,

Scream out loud! Like really scream out loud!!

& abuse & say whatever comes to your mind.....

    In the midst of everyday life,

    I see a halo
 
    A sense of dejavu
 
    Is this what they call an illusion

    I hear your expressions.....

   What you would have said.........

   How you would have reacted.......

   At the end of a long, tiring day I hold u close to my heart in my imagination

    Tell you all my worries & sorrows

 And sleep carefree....


   

Yaad

 Jo rahain hum cchor chale
 Un pe palat ke dekhne ka faida kiya

 Jo dareechey band kar diye
 Un mein jhankne ka faida kiya

 Tumhaari yaad bhi us band kitaab ki si hai
 Jo dil ke taak ke tareek goshe mein hai

 Jis tak rasaae keliye
 apni zaat ke aasaibon se
nazar mila kar chalna parhta hai


Jo mere bas mein nahin..

True Love

True love exists. They find each other, support each other through thick and thin and live happily ever after...

But true love does not exist...Or exists only in books or movies.

In true life,  they find each other, love? are attracted to each other and then by some twist of fate (read inconvinience) are seperated from each other.

But then, wonder of wonders, they break up and are perfectly happy leading their lives as if they had not known each other at all.

Perfect Strangers..

Tumhaari yaad..

Ek aisi band botal hai

Jis ko ik band kitaab ki tarha dil ke kisi kone mein chhupaye baithi hoon

Aur jab tumhaari yaad aati hai to

Is botal ko khol ke mein is ke itr mein naha jaati hoon

Is ki khusboo meri rooh to masroor hi sahikar deti hai

Aur phir…

Mein tumhaari yaad to qaid kar ke

Waapis dil ke usi kone mein rakh deti hoon

Garche tum nahin to tumaari yaad hi sahi

Kyunke woh tumhaari tarha bewafa nahin......

How does  withering of love feel like and what does it look like to the outsider?
A full-bloom flower suddenly gone withering?
No.
A flower slowly withering, losing its beauty by every passing day, its hue the hue of rust, of death.
It does not scream and drop suddenly on the ground. as if stabbed in the heart.

It just slowly, imperceptably fades away. Like the love that has learnt to live without its beloved, who has resigned itself to its fate, is now companions with loneliness and is used to the indifference shown its way.

It reminds itself of the love that was, the fragrance it emits, diminishing. It can feel it, but it can not express it. The epicenter is there no more. And still it carries out, unknown to the world, pretending every thing is under its feeble control....