Just a melancholy

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हमसफ़र

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 मेरे हमजोलिया मेरे बिछड़े हमसफ़र  कुछ ऐसे नाम लेके ये जहाँ मुझे छेड़ते सब यहाँ  किसे करूँ शिकायत ,किसे करू ये बयान  अब में जाऊ कहा  कभी मुस्कुराते हैं कभी सिमट जातें हैं   इस जहाँ की बातों पर और अपने जज़्बातो पर  तुम बस जल्दी आ जाओ  सावन गया ,  पतझड़ भी जाने को है  कुछ यहाँ कुछ वहां  कितने खुशनसीब हैं वो कान जो तेरी खैर रोज सुनते होंगे  कितने खुशनसीब है वो ऑंखें जो तेरा दीदार करती होगी  तेरे नाम लेकर लोग मेरा दिल जलाते हैं मेरा  आखिर कब होगा वो सवेरा जब तू  हाथ  थमेगा मेरा 
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About your smile

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I am always thinking about your smile. Recreating the corners of your mouth, the crinkles around your eyes. Your memory comes and plays on loop in my head and I leave my heart in places in middle of the things. Every chance encounter, every change you had, you walked by, you are the only thing I see and yet you are only thing in my life that I didn’t see coming. The stillness that night was just the sky holding its breath for us. That late night when I was walking by your sid e, you were walking right next to me, I thought that one day maybe I will write about this. I laughed within myself. Wild tansies grew in my chest and it was just a way for my heart to say that look here, I acknowledge how different I am feeling. So, may be 10 years from now we run into each other and I know we will, I will say that you know I only met you today, but I have been in love with you since yesterday. Words are the most dangerous weapons we have or the sweetest fondest cupcakes. Onl...
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Resurrection

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Before I begin, I would want to tell you that writing or saying this makes me feel very scared. I always had this strange fear that If I write about good things, If I put my happiness in words and make it concrete, then it can be taken away from me, But as a writer of all things sad and dismal, I owe this one to you. So here it goes; I was a person who never cherished life, like the one where everyone is supposed to be grateful when nothing is wrong in their life, Past few months I was lost in a blur. One minute I was flying to a new location to do this or that, one minute I was working like a machine to get rid of all thoughts I create. I walked into the streets, I got failure and breaking points but all of this mattered and didn’t matter in the end too. Life took dramatic twists, and you can call it an unbecoming of all sorts. And this time I let it in, felt it, without fighting back too much. And this has let me write this on a grey winter afternoon at home, under a bare blue sky....
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