बरकरार है सिलसिला उनकी यादों का,
महज़ याद करने पर उमड़ आता है ||
महफूज़ तो अपनी मुस्कान को रखती हूं,
हर मुस्कान पर यूं दिल जो भर आता है ||

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Caring for that someone
may state the underlying love
or maybe a lack of choice.
I wonder if the act of caring
gradually blinds human toward
their own fragments of dilemma.

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रोशन उसे चांद को सायों ने जकड़ना चाहा,
औरत की हर बात पर जग ने बरसना चाहा,
सच झूठ की आंधी मैं मिल गया है सब कुछ
उसे चांद ने फिर भी चमकना हर बार चाहा ||

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चली जो उनकी बात
खो ही गए बस हम |
जो देख ले वो मेरी आंखों में
कैसे रोक पाएंगे खुद को हम ||

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Hey gravity! Can we customize?
For the distance between us
is a little over 7k miles.
Funny, now we feel your pull.
Before, you were mere worth a tool.

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Maybe it's all unreal
that I'm loved by someone with
a full heart,
exquisite tongue,
honest eyes,
and a golden heart.
Maybe not!

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They say if you're with the right person,
"creativity" strives.

Is this why the little strand that held us weakly,
also let your ink dry.

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The voice of a common man in love
is often translated into two cups of tea
made by him, before you even wake up.

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There I was being a gardener sweeping off the fallen leaves at the closure of each dusk. And yet there I was on one fine day when dawn rose. The dew touched me barefoot and said, "A gardener must witness it all".

And then it hit me that every story has two parts: where one falls and one where they restart.

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That one bestie says
"I told you so"

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