Tu kisi rail si guzarti hai,
Mai kisi pul sa thartharata hun…
Tu bhale ratti bhar na sunti hai,
Mai tera naam budbudata hun…
Kisi lambe safar ki raahon main,
Tujhe alaav sa jalata hun..
Rough English Translation:
“You pass by like a train,
I shudder like a bridge under it.
Even though you don’t listen to me a bit,
I keep murmuring your name.
On a long journey,
I light up your memories (to keep me warm) ”
What a lovely song this is, with such marvellous lyrics. ( From the movie Masaan.)
Around a year ago, during one of the most difficult phases of my life, in between an episode of terrible migraine I knocked on his doors. My head was bursting with pain, and I wanted to shut myself away from the world, distant from anything that produced any light or sound. His small, dingy room in a secluded space was a perfect place to crash down. After several bouts of nausea and vomiting, I was in a bad shape. As the headache subsided a little, my stomach was growling with hunger and all I wanted to eat were potatoes exactly the way my mother makes them. Not his way. Not my way. But the way my mother cooks them. With almost no expectations I told him the recipe. In his one room apartment, while I rested in his bed, he toiled in the kitchen to cook something he hadn’t even tasted. After half an hour or so, with almost a frightened look on his face he asked me to taste the food. I took a bite and smiled. It tasted exactly like my mother’s. And, for the thousandth time, I fell in love with the same guy.
After several years of being in a relationship, I understood that love is not just the butterflies you get in your stomach when you hold each other’s hand for the first time, or your first kiss, or roses on Valentine’s Day, or a romantic night under the sky.
More than being just a warm fuzzy feeling in your heart, love is a verb.
And in love, more than what you say, what matters more is what you do.
Inspired by: Discover
Claps of thunder and bolts of lightning
Wind comes howling through
Sometimes love is just a kite string
And a heart shaped tattoo
And holding on can be so frightening
I know she’s frightened too
But I’ll go dancing out in the thunder and lightning
If she will too
If she tells me she will too…
(Words from a song by Passenger)
Because it’s his birthday today. And the only thing I bought for him was this cake. Apart from that, I lied to my entire family, made up great excuses so that we get to spend one day together.
Love is hard, especially when you have to hide your relationship from a lots of people, when you both are broke, unmotivated, and in a mess. But I can still say that all our miseries are nothing compared to the love we feel for each other. Our tragedies turn into comedies the moment we meet. We laugh, we fight (a lot), we clean and cook together. We prefer lying in our bed, than going out and enjoying a day in the sun. We bitch about people we mutually hate, and sympathize with the same people sometimes. We are completely different yet so alike. I don’t know how to say this but we are very wrong for each other but we are wrong in the right way.
Orange nominated me for the Black and White Photo Challenge and I am so thankful to her for that. I can’t remember the last time I blogged so consistently. And even though I broke all the rules of the challenge, I am glad that I completed it today. Yay!!!
Qutb Minar, Delhi
Yeh Delhi hai mere yaar, bus ishq mohhabbat pyar… ❤️
All my life, Delhi was a place of transition for me. It was the city that came midway while travelling from my hometown to both my colleges. It was the city, where I met my long distance boyfriend in bus stations, railway stations, airports. We roamed around its unknown lanes, aimlessly, just to spend time with each other. And two years ago, this city became an abode for both of us. Our long distance relationship, became short distance and I finally realised what it feels to be in a relationship. Delhi made me fall in love again, with a guy I was in love with since five years.
Delhi is my “love” city.
( I was nominated by Orange for the black and white photo challenge where I had to post pictures without any explanation but I bended the rules a bit. I believe every picture somehow tells a story and I like writing a few lines about each picture. Rules are meant to be broken, right?)
Conversations between us…
He: *after sending me a couple’s picture* My friend is getting married.
Me: Everyone except us is getting married. Tell me something new.
He: Like what?
Me: Like tell me when someone is getting divorced.
He: Got no such gossip. Oh yeah, got one, I am not talking to my brother.
Me: That’s lame. 😏
He: Okay then, I am going to wash my clothes.
Me: OMG!!!! Now, that’s breaking news. How did this happen? What made you do so? 😱😱😱😱
Me: hehehe 😂😂😂
(Chit-Chat: A series where I record conversations between me and my guy. Read the first one here. )
The place was unusually quiet for a college reunion. Or may be, I wasn’t listening. My mind was overflowing with the thoughts of the times I spent with these people- friends, acquaintance, foes all gathered under this roof, seven years after graduation. I wondered why I was there.
Did I really want to see him after all these years? While my brain wanted me to storm out of that place on the first chance I could get, my heart wanted me to stay for just a little bit more. Just enough to see him once. Jordan, my friend, my secret keeper, the guy who fell in love with every girl he laid his eyes on. The one with all kinds of dating stories- funny, disastrous, steamy. He was my love guru, my go to person for every sexual query, my only contact on speed dial. We made fun of everything under the sun, the lonesome professors tired of their life, the girls mad enough to like him back, the guys I went to dates with. We were a team who judged every person we had to deal with. We were so different, yet when we talked, time passed in the blink of an eye.
He was the charming guy, girls fell in love with. Not me, though. I was aware of his tactics, his moves to win over everyone. I wasn’t foolish enough to fall for his charm. Or was I?
Atleast, not until the night on the porch…
To be continued…