Exam ke beech padhai? Naaah
Nyi hobbie talashni ho to btao
and in 20 days college life will end.
End of the honeymoon period of life may be
Main gira, phir sambhala khud ko
Khak hokar bhi uthaya khud ko
Har shab lafzon ko hamraz kiya
Aur tanhai me baant aaya khud ko
Tum samajh hi na sake veerani aankhon ki
Deewaron me simat kar chhupaya khud ko
Raat der tak charagon se guftagu karta raha
Subah hui to andheron ne phir bulaya khudko
ro.eñ na abhī ahl-e-nazar haal pe mere
honā hai abhī mujh ko ḳharāb aur ziyāda
I am afraid, One day you'll pass me and my eyes won't bother to notice you,
The butterfly of my stomach will die, and the rhythm of my heart won't let my ears find the echoes of your laughter, I am afraid one day you will be like the flower that blooms but does not give sensations.
I'm afraid someday you'll mean nothing to me and I'll just walk away, I'll walk away from your symphonious walk.
and when everything goes wrong,
rain purifies you for another battle.
As the competitive exams are approaching, I don't know who needs to hear this, but this is for everyone who is feeling low,
I understand the very reason of your introspections,
but there are days when you are nothing,
there are days when you're flying above seven skies,
and there are days when you endure the monotony between the two.
and the most important things that you overcome whatever you endure,
and evolve into much more resilient.
Lessons are learnt when there are collections of bleak clouds above,
as you examine how the rain purifies the soul and give birth to a layer of nature, so endure the bleak nights for it invites the magical stars and trust me your magical stars are on the way approaching you even more enthusiastically than you!
Had a really fun conversation with you. I learned some new perspectives as well.
Love you people 💕
Life is the mist of many dilemmas,
yet I have lived mine with only a few commas.
and on a random thursday college ends.
Miles to go ahead 🙂
Some evenings feel heavier than others,
the sunset spills like spilt tea across the floor,
and the birds once small dancing flipping metaphors of freedom now seems to march towards away- the cliff of my room is quiet- they don’t sing to me anymore to amuse.
Or maybe, I’ve just forgotten how to listen when they are beside.
I sit in a room lined with pages, glued with cards which are meant to shape my future,
but none of them know my name yet I have crammed my heart.
I read, grasp and skim until my bones ache with borrowed ambition,
and still, I cannot tell
if this is growth or quiet erasure.
There’s something folded inside my chest
not sadness or hopelessness, not quite weariness either
just a question that refuses to speak aloud.
Something like:
am I building a life or abandoning the one I had!?
like I’m running towards something
and away from myself, all at once-a paradox I'm glued into.
I used to name clouds in the sky,
trace dreams with the feathers of sparrows,
but now, even sunsets pass like a to-do list, even the birds go like a hum but I don't find it shrill.
Not because it’s no longer beautiful, or melodic
but because I don’t know
if I still belong to that kind of wonder.
The world claps for the ones who make it,
but no one sees the silenced constellation
who slowly stops watching the sky
because it reminds me of the things
I don’t have time to feel.
Everyone talks about the finish line,
but no one asks
what we lose on the way there.
I wonder
how love would feel at night,
when it slips out of letters
just to find my lips.
To my future daughter.
Dear daughter of mine,
I hope you're astounded by the experience of this new world and flying with one of the cutest smiles.
Nothing can stop you from shining in your own defined line.
I wish you are glad to be a part of your mum and me,
and I believe everything around you will be fine.
My future radiance,
the grace of the moon,
a reason for my solace.
My star shining in the twilight.
My sun merrily achieving milestones in the atmosphere
With the accolades of accomplishment and triumph.
You can't visualize how deeply I admire you
In the rain of unspoken bliss,
I am the soil and you are the sapling of my wish, infatuation and devoted longing.
I can glimpse your eyes that glow in the gloaming
and your startling presence in the crowd of a waking morning.
I can feel you sitting beside me here in my solitude,
Your aroma that carries the aspect of your mother,
While you're playing cheerily in the sky with all the angels,
You remain a wonder,
carrying the grace of both of us.
Like your mother, you are more than magnificent and meaningful,
and in your own way, uniquely wise
just as I imagine you to be.
For once, I'm certain
You'll be a newer version of us.
I know your heart will be filled with compassion.
I am sure you'll be full of zeal, following your passion,
You'll always be mine, forever and ever.
I will admire you in the dusk and dawn
Whether the rainbow is colourless or too dark.
And one more thing, sweetheart
if this feels like a dream written too early,
forgive me.
I was only sixteen,
and you were already real to me.
Would you mind if I compose poetry for you forever?
in a way you have never witnessed yourself before?
Let me take everything out of me and blend it into a vase of ink,
and compose things about you, your essence and its eternal grace, all the randomness you carry, all the scars you hold and hide, all the wilted flowers resting on your shelf that you despise, yet never found the courage to bury and forget, the memories that shattered the mirror you once adored, all the tiny frocks in your wardrobe that remind you of your childhood essence.
I know how strings of sensitive emotions remain attached to them, and how you never truly wish to let them go.
The moments when you stare blankly at the sunset with messy hair, gloom resting in your gazelle eyes, and little drops of warm tears passing down your cheeks, burying themselves with all your agony.
The moments when the world forgets to appreciate your presence, never realising what a precious pearl you truly are.
Let me dive into all your insecurities and take out everything you despise, only to remind you how precious you are in the wonders of my existence,
a sun for a sunflower,
a cloud for the rain to caress,
a fence protecting wandering goats,
a gardener for a garden,
a precious reader to a writer,
a melody in the morning,
stars meant for stargazing,
a roof beneath which your wings realise how beautiful they are,
a night where daisies dance beneath the shower of your ethereal grin.
The way you sleep at night,
the way you hold a bouquet,
the way you dance,
the way you randomly begin singing your favourite songs,
let me gather every fragment of your essence and tell you about the precious pearl I wish to hide gently from the world.
You,
a naive soul with gold-glimmered skin, carrying wilted flowers in the rhythm of your heartbeat.
But let me put the metaphors aside for once and tell you this plainly:
you are a bouquet carrying pearls and the tranquillity of night within itself.
Would you let me compose metaphors for you for an eternity?
Bhaisahab aaj jo headache ne wild card entry li exam ke dauran, kya btaun 🥺
Kisi ne to pakka nazar lgaya tha
You taste like a dream
written in Braille.
I trace my fingers
over the shape of your being,
and
our lips tasting faintly
of unfinished rain.
the snow lingers
along your neck,
hills and valleys,
and the stillness
of your body,
I touch with
my fingertips,
I realise
I have always been
an illiterate,
blind
to what I could touch.
I spent years misreading my scars as ruin, until I learned they were only the terrain of becoming.
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I mean, how cruel we become to ourselves,
that we turn ourselves into graveyards of secrets.
and what is love, if it isn’t writing hundreds of poems for one soul, then burning every page in silence?
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Autumn weeps in ominous silence
at the departure of its birds.
It sighs-
a constellation of memories
loosening from its sky,
a canvas of scattered breath
that no longer knows where to settle.
the wind hesitates,
as if even it cannot follow
what has chosen to leave.
and the empty nests learn
the shape of absence.
If the stars ever wept,
they must’ve wept
at the thought of someone
loving like this
slowly,
sacredly,
as if touching the soul
was a forgotten art.
But to have someone who writes you a letter on the random days>>>>>
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One day life will end abruptly,
but before that I'll build the cascading happiness around my senses.
