What I learnt from 3 idiots is if you let passion, hobbies and other chutiya things in life fuck off and mug up the definitions like a robot, you'll end up having a bungalow with maple wood flooring and a hot wife. Who the fuck wants to click pictures or teach Nepali kids for a living? Not me.

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He was the song she kept coming back to. She was the tune he never held on to. The mandolin lied forlorn as the paths never met.

Days later, he fell in love with the tune. But... the mandolin was already sold.

"I'm sorry." She said.

"Let's make an art bigger than music." He thought.

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She wanted him to be like boardroom meetings at 2 pm, quiet & unfeigned. Or ice cream dates in pajamas, unadorned & euphoric. Or a song in her playlist, choral & joyous.

But all he could be was a nightly spell of wantonness. Intimate by the dusk, effervescent by midnight and... gone by the dawn.

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The sky had red in it, wind was insober. Lost in reveries of love, he waited for his moment.

Little did he know, the heart had changed with season.

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I look at rest of the things in this world and wonder, why, none of them have, the fragrance, as sweet as you.

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Heaven is on earth,
If we feel it.

A touch of breeze
Or a kiss of love
An empty road
Or a tub full of icecream

A tall tree
Or a short working day
Smiling frames
Or a crying river

Heaven is on earth,
If we find it.

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"My life is all about you." He said, to the void. To the wind, the sky, even the seas. None of whom could convey it to her.

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He took him behind the hills, her eyes closed. Wanting to confess his feelings for her, he couldn't begin.

Finally, her kiss broke the silence.

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Be an eyeball
To your vision

Be a vision
To your dreams

Be a dream
To your efforts

Be an effort
To your success

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She looked at him, waiting a response.

All she got was silence.

And a kiss, that answered everything.

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