Jalte hain jiske liye....

Talat Mohammad's voice is filling my room in this lazy sunday afternoon. The world is sleepy.. may be because of the summer madness that drains your energy. 

My shadow morphs into a memory . A calmness, stillness, a strange courage.

 That's my curse- I remember everything...

 Words that fell from tour drunken mouth 3 years ago. 

The colour of my best friend's nail polish on a random Thursday 6 years ago. The flavour of icecream my roommate bought 5 moons back. 

A starnger's eye flicker towards the door: fear... 

A name mentioned once, twice, three times in a conversationwe had 7 weeks ago. 

A leg bounce, finger tap, nervousness of a woman who shares seat with me in a bus ride.

Fast forward. The song is still playing. My eyes then water because I know. I know that the love in my heart will only dull, but never disappear. I know because I’ve been here before. I know how this works... for I have loved and lost.. 

Still,

 I have this life i imagine sometimes. I don’t talk about it. But it’s there. It has always been there. 

A life with someone. Not perfect in the way movies mean it...Perfect in the way that feels mine. 

Sunday moons with biriyani. 

Summers with mango juice. 

A shoulder I can lean on to. 

A coffee mug shared. Books highlighted in different colours. 

Fingers that automatically find in dark.

I have an entire life picture like this in the back of my mind. A love that doesnt make me afraid. Allows me to rest. Doesn't make me feel I have to earn it. 

And then I act like I don't believe in that kind of love. I say I have outgrown fairy tales. That am a realist. Am an adult. I have better things to do. I deny it loudly and firmly . The practiced detachment. The half jokes. The pretense of "not interested".

But, dear future beloved... 

if you are reading this...
I hope we meet one day . 

That we learn each other painfully slowly. 

 That we recognize the difference between the silence where we need space and the silence where we are secretly hoping that we notice we are hurting. 

That we cry infront eachother without apologizing afterward. 

That we admit we are scared, jealous, insecure, lonely, confused rather than pretending or being impressive. 

That we know each others favorite singer. That we know how much sugar we want in our morning coffees. 

That we know how our rooms smell after long monsoon days. 

 That we tell each others dream before it exists.
That we will love each other for all the summers,winters ,autumns and springs...
That we will ,one day tell each other " I remember that nights when you almost stopped trying . Am glad I stayed. Am lucky I stayed "


"Jab talak na yeh tere ras ke bhare honthon se miley, Yunhi awara phirega yeh teri zulfon ke taley Gaaye jaunga yehi geet main tere liye..." 

Until then, my beloved... I shall sing...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THE ART OF UNFAMILIAR ROOMS IN A NOISY CITY

 A city with a royal past and restless present—palaces that still remember crowns, streets that forget faces too quickly.  I arrived here 7 moons and 3 rains back,like a sentence unfinished, carrying myself in a bag that still smells like the place I left behind. A new city of voice and noise. The walls here do not remember me yet. They stand like strangers pretending not to stare. My hostel room is small—smaller than the thoughts that refuse to sit still. The fan above me keeps circling like a tired prayer, as if it forgot what it was asked to cool. I lie beneath it anyway.  There is a loneliness here that does not announce itself. It simply arrives, sits beside me, and behaves like it has always belonged. Outside, life is loud in unfamiliar languages. Inside, I learn the shape of my own silence again. The bulb light is my room is blank in that specific way new places are—polite, uninterested, waiting to decide what kind of person I will become here... And then— A...
Read more

The Unanswered Ring: Returning to Decision to Leave

Some films don’t scream.They breathe. Softly. Like someone lying next to you who doesn’t dare touch you. “Decision to Leave” wasn’t a thriller to me. It was a letter never sent.A wave that crashed but never reached the shore. I watched Seo-rae fold her silences like laundry. Every movement quiet, every word a disguise. And yet—every glance, a plea: “See me. Even if you don’t believe me.” And Hae-jun— he didn’t fall from a mountain.He dissolved, little by little, like a man walking into the sea,telling himself it’s just water. The film didn’t ask me to watch. It asked me to listen. To sighs. To footsteps. To hunger that never became desire.What kind of love is this? One that doesn’t kiss, but watches.Doesn’t hold, but follows from a distance. Doesn’t beg, but leaves quietly, hoping to be remembered...The kind that hides in plain sight. The kind that tells you,“You’re better off without me,” but still checks if you’ve eaten... A Scene I’ll Never Forget: (And perhaps, never forgive) Seo-r...
Read more
8.04.2026 Am in my late twenties..  so if you , ever ask me what this beautiful, long,tragic life taught me.. if you want me to point out a word of wisdom .. then i i will sit cross legged and tell you that, I have realized that everyone is going to hurt you. Not just once, not just in ways you can predict, but in ways that arrive quietly and stay longer than you expect. It is not always loud. It is not always something you can point out at. And it's no ones fault. People change. You change. Preferences change. Dreams change. Some people leave with reasons, with explanations that give you something to hold onto. Others leave without a word, slowly becoming unfamiliar until they are no longer there at all. And some stay, but not in the way they once did, not with the same presence, not with the same care. And somewhere in all of this, you get hurt... By people. By yourself. By everyone. By everything. Again and again and again . In different ways, but in a similar way. And weirdly e...
Read more