How much must one adult
to live in peace if you ask,

"There enough to let
the brain beat heart
and unapologetically say,
Idgaf."
_____________________

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Who would know
how to not make me feel small.
Who would never grow
old in making me fall.

Someone who would call me
an endearment loving,
"My dear darling,
you're absolutely slaying!"

But with hair grey
and hands shaking,
"Am I pretty?" when I ask_
With love & happiness
who would make me glow,
whilst 59's on tow,
to make a 60
in row!
_______________

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C'mon, pop!
I feel like maybe...
doing an AMA?!

-

I need to read, write, and travel.
A lot. To not loose myself.

If not love, will you try to understand me enough
to know why I need these,
to sustain?
Will you ever be able to give me that time
and patience?

For now, I've grown tired,
of hope.
_____________

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These palm lines,
both by friendship & love,
felt hit & run.

But will there come a day ever
when they shall be held?

Oh, tell me in my dreams, dear God_
I wish to sleep sweet, tonight.
_____________

-

Emotional mushiness
with neither peace nor comfort,
is ambush.
Not love.

___________________

-

"The Ramayanam" - An everlasting controversy.
_________________

Men like Rama of Valmiki Ramayanam are lords.
Born good sons. Make great brothers. Decent companions.
And as much as beautiful people pleasers they are,
might even make much greater rulers, leaders,
fierce warriors. Worshippable in all aspects.
But as a spouse?

// Captioned //

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सारा जहान तारीफ़ -ए- तर्जुमान मेरा।
मगर आंखें मेरी आज भी,
Muntazir बन ताकता राह तेरा।
_______

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साहिर नहीं, अगली दफ़ा, तुम मुझे
इमरोज़ बन कर मिलना।
पहली जैसी मोहब्बत शायद ही कभी कर पाऊंगी तुम से
मगर वादा रहा, आख़िरी जैसी मोहब्बत ज़रूर कर जाऊंगी।।
_____

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Some days, I look at my guitar and keep wondering. With every day that I pass or walk by, hustling around day & night, at times setting bag, at times shuffling books, at times searching stuff_

Oh how badly head over heels I fell for it when I fell! But how did time, with time, drag the passion such apart that now, all the markings its strings left off the pulp on my fingers feel like a memory bitter sweet?
The longing, now, like a love lost, like a yearning. Embrace lies just a footstep ahead but why did I even today, look at it still, while it leaned onto the wall?
I preferred writing, over taking it in my arms & playing it like yester years, Why?

And how did it end up being a musing, I wonder, at times. But then again, truth is that, "Love's action. It needs effort, day by day, moment by moment, it needs consistency, patience, perseverance. Not like blink of an eye but like a job of life, for life. Or else, lost."

But musing, my darling, is like pain, is like that bourbon of a shot or two, gulped down the throat to write a poem one or two, only to sleep over the memory & wake up 'morrow as if the night never existed_
_________

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