Mere kadhi chawal

and you have met thousands of people on your way to London, and I know they like you, you are quite fun. you must’ve smiled at dozens of them. but you still love the one who’s stuck in this weird city. oh, what a shame on you for loving the hot coffee girl. the one whose heart is of stone, but face filled with pearl. the one whose eyes you look for in a crowd, the one you told your friends and professors about. and you’ve met hundreds of girls on your way to London, and I know they like you. you are so, so fun. you must’ve made a sick joke to make them all laugh, but their smiles must’ve cut you into halves and reminded you of the girl you left behind. the one that dropped your brain and made your heart blind. all your friends told you you will move on, you both will kid in love. you thought you knew a lot, but it never was enough. they’re so wrong, we both know. it’s been forever, we’re still stuck here. so even though you moved to London and I found ...

  सोचता था पत्थर कैसे बन जाते हैं खाते-खाते ठोकर ऐसे बन जाते हैं हम भी निकले थे दरिया की तलाश में प्यास की कमी से लोग समंदर बन जाते हैं कुछ बातें दिल में रखना भी जरूरी है वरना लोग मील के पत्थर बन जाते हैं ..... To be continued

There is a deep desire in me about love, THE DESIRE TO LOVE TOO MUCH AND LOVED BACK TOO MUCH .  Since childhood i felt a lack of deep love or acceptance for myself. no one i say, no one deeply loved me and even when i love the person , he/she never really loved me back with same intent and same emotions. that does not mean people never loved me , rather they do loved me in various forms as my mother loved me ,my friends, my neighbours, my teachers , but they never loved me completely.  they never loved me fully , there is nothing as deep love which i ever experienced . i think, not being sure, but till that extent which people let me in ,i love people too much. when my love become suffocation , i pull back myself. there is deep desire entrenched in me to love too much and loved back too much . this desire become a form of void that remains in my heart. this desire became the source of suffering in my life .  someone who gets close to me, i expect from him/her to fill that...

I won’t wait for you, and I carry no grudges. If you come back, I won’t stop you. If you stay away, I’m already nothing to you. The only thing I can offer is a final chance. But love now has to be worth something. I can love what meets me halfway. Unreturned love wears me thin. I’m living my life, open to what’s ahead. Someone out there will choose me without hesitation.                                      -Shinakht 

You said you miss me, but you never called. I saw you downtown, in City Mall. You were holding hands, they were grasping yours. Did you miss me out of force? You said it’s been hard on you when it’s the middle of the night and you’ve got nothing to do. You stare at the ceiling, I stare back at you. You said you wonder what if all we had wasn’t true. And your chest clenches, your heart burns. Is it me, or affection? Your heart yearns, and yet, you don’t know. You never lied to me. But how could you turn to someone else when we’re broken like this? You said you missed me, and your hands shake when you pick up the phone to call me. You feel a little fake, because you know what you did. And you know you can’t turn back, at least it’s not accountability that you lack. You said you missed me, but you never called. I saw you downtown, in City Mall. You were holding his hands, they were grasping yours. You surely missed me out of force.       ...

इश्क़ के मरीज़ का कोई इलाज नहीं, टूटे दिल के लिए कोई साज़ नहीं। तुम्हें लगता है, हो जाएगा इस बार कुछ, कहाँ पहले कभी कुछ हुआ था? तो आज भी, कोई इम्तियाज़ नहीं। ये लाइलाज बीमारी है, दर्द-ए-दिल की, दिल को उम्मीद है, पर किसी से आस नहीं। कोई आकर भर दे ग़म, खुद से तो, इसका कोई मयार नहीं। प्यार, मजबूरी से माँगा जाए अगर, इससे बड़ी, कोई मक्कार चाल नहीं। बस खुद को बाहर से रखो, इतना सख़्त, कि अंदर जलो भी, तो बाहर निकले आँच नहीं। आख़िर में, बस रज़ामंदी बचती है, इसे स्वीकार करने में, कोई हार नहीं। न तुम्हारे हाथ कभी हल आया, कितने आकर चले गए राँझे  फिर भी रहा, इसका कोई हिसाब नहीं।                                                       - शिनाख्त