His Perception...

My rebound had the audacity to tell me that I didn’t love my ex-fiancé. That all I looked for is mere togetherness, that I just can’t take being on my own, that I always feel the dire need to give out the love inside my heart to someone, anyone – or so he believed. That’s when my patience gave in. Who was he to judge me? Who was he to decipher my feelings for me and to try and put my personality as he saw it? What did he know of my mirth or gloom?

I gave a hollow laugh as I read the text message and decided to give him a piece of my mind.

I told him very clearly that because I don’t casually talk of ‘my undying love’ (as one might dramatically put it) for my ex-fiancé, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love him.And that my having to call off the wedding was entirely based on my intuition of the future, but not because I failed to feel for him. In fact I very much love him. To this very day. And even as I write. And perhaps in the years to come too... Because when I hold another’s hand, I remember his very instinctively – the artistic fingers, the almond-like nails. Remember them so clearly, that had I been an artist, his fingers I would paint with half-closed eyes!

And when I look in the other’s eyes, I remember his – the hazel eyes, with a grey halo. So peculiar. So enticing. And so seemingly honest! Hadn’t the faintest idea, the very eyes could lie! But to hate them? I don’t think I shall find such courage within my heart. Not today. Not ever.

And people say I love him not? Surely not, if the grass isn’t green!

Her Question...

She sent me a poem. A poem that I took as a sign of her cursing 'fate'. I told her not to do so. I told her that, we, being young and passionate are more than likely to commit mistakes. I told her that I was a living example - having planned and failed.

I repeated to her the quote around which my life now revolves: "Man proposes, God disposes".

I told her about my wedding dress, that now lies in cupboard, folded neatly in a box. The elegant red and gold box, I love. The one box, I would hate to see tattered and dust-ridden. The box that contains my most prized possession - the pink and grey dress I chose the embroidery for...
She thought I was being materialistic and she replied: "I don't want a dress! I just want to be his wife!"

That's when I told her of the significance of that dress. To me, that dress meant a wedding. A lawful wedding, that would make him mine for the years to come. The dress that meant I would be his wife, that I would belong to him, that I would wake up next to him, that I would smell and breathe in his scent every night...

Ik Nazm...

Garr titliyaa'n ye pyaari,

Karein gardishein tumhari,

Tou kahen shookhiyan ye saari,

Baazi ye dil ki haari...!!

Ye aadatein humari,

Jo lagen hain tumko pyaari,

Bigrri hain tumse saari,

Phir bhi hai tumse yaari...!!

Naaz..!

Mujhe hai naaz lafzon pe,

Jo dil k qaid khanon mein,

Ubhartay aur paltay hain,

Barasnay ko taraptay hain...

Mujhe hai naaz ankhon pe,

Jo dil ka saath deti hain,

Tumhe awaaz deti hain,

Tumharey chaand chehray ki,

Bohat ye daad deti hain!

Tumhare reshmi gaisuu,

Inhe betaab kertay hain,

Ru'h shadaab kertay hain,

Teri khushbu ki raa'naii,

Bohat hum yaad kertay hain!!

Why do eyes dream, knowing that its just wishful thinking?

When reality hits, dreams shall change to a blur of nothingness...

The Last Letter...

Dear Love,

So much, had I thought of a lifetime together...

That I would wake up next to you, thank my God for such a blessing, plant a kiss on your cheek and go make breakfast for you. Then, I would help you get ready for work with the hope that you shall return to my arms by the end of the day. But as a tear trickles down the contour of my face, I realize, dreams are dreams after all. Not necessarily meant to come true...

How...!?

How can a girl forget the enchanting glow of her skin or the blush that spreads upon her cheek when her beloved's name lights up her memory? How can she forget the radiant smile that plays upon her lips as she envisions the contours of his face?

How can she forget the longing within her heart as he gently kissed her nape? How can she forget the fineness of his fingertips as they stroked her tresses and his eyes that searched the depths of her soul?

How can she forget the first cup of tea that he made for her? Or the pasta that he slightly overcooked?

If someone has the answers.... I'm the one dying to know.

In this life, i've learnt ... Even those who say they love u & who probably do, are not they when u need them most. In such times, i hate 'love' most.

PriOrities in Life!

Coming to think of it, what exactly are one's priorities in life? The answer varies from person to person and is in most cases a bit too vague.We as humans, tend to change our priorities based on the difference in situations and time. But some of us like me, unfortunately, can not do so. I really wish I could. Having kept my relationship at the top-most of my priority list, I now understand the drawbacks. The foremost being "concentration." Once you lack concentration, the rest seems a haze, doesn't it?

His Sketchbook..!

In his sketchbook

I find, so many empty pages

That I wish time would fill

Or perhaps I could

Do it for him

So even when i'm not by his side

He could feel the warmth

Of every letter that I scribble

Across the pages that are left untouched.

I wish to be music to his ears,

The voice of his soul,

The hand that fits the spaces between his fingers.

Take away every element of emptiness,

Loneliness that lies within him-

And fill it all with a love so pure,

Purer than the smile I have,

Purer than the eyes I have...

Nahin Acha... !

Muhabat laffz* nahi acha,
Chalo tabdeel krte hain...
Barra hi dard deta hai,
Boht azeeyat bhi hoti hai,
Kisi ko dil mein rakhne se,
Khalish kuch barrh si jaati hai,
Kisi ka hath jo thaama,
Vo pal mein chhoot sakta hai
Kisi ko apna jo jana,
Paraya pal mein hota hai...
Muhabat laffz* nahi acha,
Chalo tabdeel krte hain,
Iss jazbay ko ab se hum,
Chalo taqdeer kehte hain!

* laffz = word

The Wedding Ring...

The wedding ring was similar to the one on the right.
However, his name was only engraved on one side...
He asked her why she was so keen about the placement of the name on just one side?
She smiled and told him that she wanted to wear the ring such that, whenever she looked at her palms, she would see his name and that whenever she raised her hand to prayer, she would see his name...

But she never knew that time shall turn and she would be left thinking about the name engraved on her wedding ring, as she used her palm to wipe the tears on her face.

A Random Thought...

I'm of the point-of-view that bitter words hurt far less than the sweet ones that were said out of love, but were never acted upon... I feel tears sting my eyes when I read something out of the past, where every letter holds intense emotions that stab at my heart. I then question myself: 'Why does one say things he/she never mean?' But I guess that's how it goes... when you're in love, it feels like you've the world in your hand & everything else seems hazy. At that point, you say things out of passion but as time goes by, the passion seems to fly out of the window. And then you're left with several stupid msgs in your cell phone that remind you of what you once felt.

Ankhon Mein !

Neend aati kahan hai ankhon mein,

Jaagta mera jahan hai ankhon mein..

Khushk koozey liye phirtay ho,

Dekho aab-e-rawaa'n hai hai ankhon mein..

Aatish-e-hijr mei jaltey jaltey,

Boht sa dhuaa'n hai ankhon mein..

Ik yehi aas salamat rakhna,

Vasl ka gumaa'n hai ankhon mein..

Ghazal !

Shab ki ra'naiyaan hen pukaren usko,

Sab hi veraniyaan hen pukaren usko...

Vo jo zehn-o-dil mei sama sa gaya hai,

Meri parchaiyaan hen pukaren usko...

Sukoon-o-qaraar sab le gaya hai voh,

Ajab betaabiyaan hen pukaren usko...

Ye um'r, aur shaukh-e-tanha safri,

Ku dil ki galiyaan hen pukaren usko...

Dost..!

Meri zindagi k iss safar mei

Ik dost aisa mila mujhe

Meine jiska haath thaam kr

Usey apna 'Khuda' maan kr

Ik naya safar shru kia

Jal utha chahat ka dia

Phr wehshato'n ne janam lia

Mujhe betaha'sha bekal kia

Meine socha usko keh hi dun

Jo kashmakash zehn-o-dil mei hai

Phr khayal ayaa ke

Yun usay na pareshaa'n karon

Haal-e-dil bayaa'n karon

Ya ussay kuch na kahon?

A Way Out...

This picture makes me want to write about it. I think the creativity within it is what actually makes me scratch my sweaty head (thanks to the increasing electricity failure in this scorching heat), and ponder upon the true essence of this picture. So here goes my discussion to myself...

'Do I happen to like because it's different?'

'Hell, yes!'

'That all?'

'Umm... well, there's more.'

'And that is?'

'The fact that I can relate'

'Yes, now we're talking'

'It makes me believe that there's always A WAY OUT :)

TuM...!

Mujhe tum achey lagtey ho
Boht hi pyare lagtey ho
Tumharey honton pe hai jo khilti
Vo shoq o chanchal si muskurahat
Mujhe betaab karti hai
Rooh shadaab karti hai..!!
Tumhari ankhon k dhundlakon mei
Nami ki halki si jhalak bhi
Mujhe to maar deti hai
Ajab azaar deti hai..!!
Haan jana, ab kabhi jo
Tumhare dil ko chott pohanche
Qasam hai tumhe na palkain bheegona
Hazaar chaho mager na rona
Tum bas ab ke ik kaam karna
Tamaam ansu mere naam karna!!

MuHaBaT...!

Muhabat meRa masla hai
Isay mai hal to kar lungi
Hisaar-e-zaat ko torongi
Us yaad ghur ko chorongi
Mager jana
Tum apni socho
Kuch apni zaat ko khojo
Bin mere
Har sans ulhaaj paregi
Har yaad tumse lareygi
Aur us par..
Ghazab mere khatt
Jinka har ek lafz
Tumharey zehn-o-wajdaa'n mei
Ab tak to rach basa hai..
Ik jaal ban chala hai
Tumse jo keh raha hai
Ab k in yadon se
Kachey pakey wadon se
Pyare kaisey nikloge??

InsOmNia

A sleeping disorder - that keeps u up all night long. that's what a lay man would think of it. for me its a lot more. its a state that makes me shudder with the intensity of unshed tears, that makes me want to shout YOUR name to the walls that stare at me in the dark!

"Why, O Why?" is what I keep questioning. but there isn't any answer. all that is visible is blackness. a space that nags at my soul, a voice that haunts me over n over...

"Should I turn to you for help?"