Its been years i visited that shelf of my study. If i say that i was busy in shaping up my life, staggering for status, or was busy in architecting a huge magnigicant future, then it would not be cent percent true. Neither it was the fear which kept us apart for so long, because the honest love to my memories was resting in the citadel of heart and the intruder fear was not capable enof to bring me on knees to succint emotions.
It was raining the day it started and my unscheduled flyte to my oldest young born feelings was waiting when a sudden short lived heavy zephyr striked so hard that it not only dropped a diary of once being me, but also opened the gates of dam of memories. As i was alone in there so i asked myself "lets answer the courage and fight the danger" I closed the door and windows and picked up dat kaccha chittha of my short lived life. So before turning the pages of my unreadable writers skilled book of past, i thought of company, so i called whisky. Afterol m also a scion of the clan where all we need is a reason to surprise our lever. And in a sec i have two, one was the diary and the other one you all are aware of "mausam".
I & the whiskey sipped each other and the shiverring hands became confident to turn the page. Swayed back to the place where i lived once. Kept turning the pages and the face exercised every emotion. And most of the times laughter wrapped in tears of sepration, nd the unconditional love to the affable ones. Friends with whom i lived a life, very small if measured i.e 4 fucking unforgettable years.
Big fights... now a chapter to laugh on. Very short lived at max for hours and turned out to be biggest reason to drink and to celebrate.
First one sided love. Actually no sided... Preity face, alluring smile, thin pink petel lips. And tinkering with freinds "bhai bhabhi kaisi lag rahi hain"
And bhabhi wasnt even aware of this secret marriage. 1 look was enough to smile whole day. And she never noticed. There is a good percent of pages in it occupied by her smiling face and myth that she smiled today. She noticed.
Engrossed into those pages which once was just a hobby, aroused from hero's of our time is now became a source of survival. Sleet of sweat over forehead (might whisky was the reason) brought me to the study.
Why they came, why some of them stays and others left, where is dat love of my life, suddenly we had a little time to talk, living alone. Once cribbed about every little thing and now didnt even bother to discuss anythng. Are we happy??
The questioned vanished as it came ofcourse we are happy.
That novice and immature pages of my writings taught me the biggest lesson. It goes on. Nythng happen but life goes on.
No matter who ll stay. The mahogany Us, will keep on darkening ourself with oil of experience.
Afterol we are the puppets of destiny. All we have is paths and certain pages of diary of every road we took. Destination is something we cant predict...then her voice hits like squall. Yes dat very gal of my college occupying many pages n now my life. Today shez most beautiful then ever. Because those who are attached to the same thread of destiny will walk with us till the end. So we call them hamsafar.
It was raining the day it started and my unscheduled flyte to my oldest young born feelings was waiting when a sudden short lived heavy zephyr striked so hard that it not only dropped a diary of once being me, but also opened the gates of dam of memories. As i was alone in there so i asked myself "lets answer the courage and fight the danger" I closed the door and windows and picked up dat kaccha chittha of my short lived life. So before turning the pages of my unreadable writers skilled book of past, i thought of company, so i called whisky. Afterol m also a scion of the clan where all we need is a reason to surprise our lever. And in a sec i have two, one was the diary and the other one you all are aware of "mausam".
I & the whiskey sipped each other and the shiverring hands became confident to turn the page. Swayed back to the place where i lived once. Kept turning the pages and the face exercised every emotion. And most of the times laughter wrapped in tears of sepration, nd the unconditional love to the affable ones. Friends with whom i lived a life, very small if measured i.e 4 fucking unforgettable years.
Big fights... now a chapter to laugh on. Very short lived at max for hours and turned out to be biggest reason to drink and to celebrate.
First one sided love. Actually no sided... Preity face, alluring smile, thin pink petel lips. And tinkering with freinds "bhai bhabhi kaisi lag rahi hain"
And bhabhi wasnt even aware of this secret marriage. 1 look was enough to smile whole day. And she never noticed. There is a good percent of pages in it occupied by her smiling face and myth that she smiled today. She noticed.
Engrossed into those pages which once was just a hobby, aroused from hero's of our time is now became a source of survival. Sleet of sweat over forehead (might whisky was the reason) brought me to the study.
Why they came, why some of them stays and others left, where is dat love of my life, suddenly we had a little time to talk, living alone. Once cribbed about every little thing and now didnt even bother to discuss anythng. Are we happy??
The questioned vanished as it came ofcourse we are happy.
That novice and immature pages of my writings taught me the biggest lesson. It goes on. Nythng happen but life goes on.
No matter who ll stay. The mahogany Us, will keep on darkening ourself with oil of experience.
Afterol we are the puppets of destiny. All we have is paths and certain pages of diary of every road we took. Destination is something we cant predict...then her voice hits like squall. Yes dat very gal of my college occupying many pages n now my life. Today shez most beautiful then ever. Because those who are attached to the same thread of destiny will walk with us till the end. So we call them hamsafar.
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