We all are broken in some cases,
Seeking somewhere to escape the regular places.
Hoping to cross a path, where there is no pressure of finding your broken pieces,
Into those warm hugs, that ignite magic which never ceases.
You know, the want has always been simple,
This heart desires to grow anew and not make up those wrinkles.
The broken pieces packed in the bag,
and nurturing a new feeling, just a new tag.
It has never been looking for the glue to fix oneself,
Neither to unburden those shattered shards on some shelf.
The wish has been to sometimes keep some faces hidden,
To make a new you and let some stories forbidden.
To come back someday,
And crush the painful chunks to let the glitter make way.

So next time you meet someone,
Don't force to mend either of you in the run.
Just sculpt each other,
Accepting that not every broken piece needs to be fixed, they can be turned to glitter rather.

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कि कुछ इस कदर ये कोहरा छंटा है
उतरती धूप संग अब दिन शुरू हुआ है
सजे हैं सर्द से ठिठुरते चेहरे छज्जों पर
सुकून और तपिश का अहसास अब हो रहा है।

धुली है मैंने भी कमीज़ अपनी
सुखाने बाल मैं भी निकली हूं ढूंढने गर्म ज़मीं
कड़क सी एक चाय होंठों को सहला रही है
अभी तो आई थी, देखो अभी ये धूप वापस जा रही है।

सिकुड़ती ठंड में एक और इतवार यूंही बीत रहा है
शायद इतवार और धूप को विदा करना अब ये मन बखूबी सीख रहा है।

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Happiness is the kite,
hope is its string.
I am practicing to let it soar high
slowly with a swing.

I wake up from a dream,
I sleep on truth.
Juggling with responsibilities,
saving my tooth.

𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻.

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𝙷𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕,
𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜.
𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗,
𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎.




ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕝 𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕣𝕤.

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Amma,
The hard rock like ice that you kept
in my heart's refrigerator has become
too adamant to melt and I am thus
freezing from inside out each day.

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My heart has become a vase,
broken by the catapult of love.
It's fixed somehow, but
no flower rests in it now.

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• Evening, Music and KK •— % &Back then when life had only one definition: variety of colours, balloons soaring up in the sky, laughter and stories, KK had entered my subconscious mind with a lot of unnoticed depth.
My mother used to love his song 'Awaarapan' and almost every other evening it played in our house. I hated the fact of it being too melancholic for a child to listen. The other reason it being a 7 min long song to endure.
Little did I know it would rekindle those hateful memories with so much love and relatability at present.
— % &I tune in my Spotify and hum along with KK:
कहां किसी के लिए है मुमकिन
सबके लिए एक सा होना
थोड़ा सा दिल मेरा बुरा है
थोड़ा भला है सीने में
आवारापन, बनजारापन, एक हला है सीने में
हरदम हरपल बेचैनी है
कौन भला है सीने में...

Life has changed its meaning now and so does this song. Each chord, each word of the lyrics, jumps in my whirlpool of emotions and like a coin that finally finds a place to settle at the bottom of the water tank, the hearts settles with the acceptance of the fact that KK too took the literal meaning of this song and left behind a vacant spot.— % &Music has a different charm, to give words to your unexpressed swirl of hormones that makes you topsy turvy from inside. It is as you had been using a sign language to communicate your feelings but no one could ever understand and then music came to listen to you, to understand you and then express it on your behalf. KK was one such musician, who gave you the voice of completeness, when you could say:

"चंद लम्हात के वास्ते ही सही
मुस्कुरा कर मिली मुझे ज़िन्दगी"

— % &The cycle of life and death is a our truth and the journey that is covered in between is the truth that we have yet we don't have. But the only difference between that unpossesed truth and possessed one is that former reflects in the mirror of our spectator.
We take our truth with us but we leave the truth of our journey behind. It was as if we fill water in our cupped hands and then pour it back in the ocean. The duration in which we held the water, makes all the difference. KK not only held his water, he added pearls in it too and then one day he just returned all and flew to a new birth.— % &That's how an artist goes, but continues to live in the pearls of his art that he left behind. While penning this, KK still sits in my mobile phone, with a mike in his hand and singing,
दिल क्यों ये मेरा शोर करे,
दिल क्यों ये मेरा शोर करे,
इधर नहीं, उधर नहीं-
तेरी ओर चले।
— % &The evenings will not be the same for KK will not be here standing on the podium, but the evenings can never be dull for his music stills flows in every household.

~To the music, to the evenings, to the memories,
To KK.
"तुम्हें प्यार कब तक ना करेंगे भला?
जिंदगी
दो पल की।"— % &

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Words haven't and will never excite you,
so I will tiptoe behind and come along for you.

Reminders that you left for my last minute rush,
I need to manage well to prove wrong for you.

"It's just a matter of few days," you had said.
How do I tell you this wait has made me a ping-pong for you!

But texting missing quotes sounds too cliche to you,
I will act cool hence and stay strong for you.

Why do you think the spark seems to dull in separation, Ragini?
For the span of staying apart somehow just prolong for you.

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