Hamari Adhuri Kahani Title Song – Arijit Singh
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ggaajjz13Mc
you are the spark i’d only ink. permanent.
you deserve the world, where my soul freely wanders. naked
Comments closedA boy's journey through words and the mixtapes. I write every Thursday.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ggaajjz13Mc
you are the spark i’d only ink. permanent.
you deserve the world, where my soul freely wanders. naked
Comments closedyour search for that pitch perfect lifestyle,
your search for the perfect life partner,
your search for the perfect, perfect selfie, the photograph,
your search for the perfect social media shams,
the search for that free exquisite travel tickets
the search for fortune,
the search for power,
the search never ends, does it?
mum says, “life’s imperfectly perfect; it makes you want more, that gives you purpose, the dawn, the dusk.”
Comments closedlove is not a choice,
you can’t force love.
love’s not a dream,
it happens with eyes wide open, taste of heart mouthful
emotions ever so gold, feelings ever so true.
love’s an echo,
it finds it way.
it comes back.
love’s a wildfire,
it spreads.
Comments closedi am looking for you.
i am not looking for the ones with plastic handshakes, the replacables,
mouth full of advice, hands full of vices,
sick arse attitude, hollow platitudes,
quotes and suggestions,
shit talks and crap guts.
…
…
you see, i am looking for real souls.
Comments closedi will show up out of the blue,
i’ll borrow some of your time. asked.
all i ask is, you be with me nothing asked.
we will talk about everything,
fearless, be us both unprepared, be us both rusted, with trust.
we’ll open up like parting clouds,
be us both with grudges and doubts
we’ll spill like sands of stars,
with no finish line, no boundaries that divides.
…
…
that’s the only how,
we’ll be friends for life.
Comments closed
Running Late.
I was heading for work.
She calls me.
Wishes me, “Happy Belated Birthday Babu!” (In Nepali)
Adds the most sincere, “I LOVE YOU, at last, after she had sobbed her heart out for having forgotten my birthday.”
This is my granny.
My first love, as I call her time and again.
The lady who took me with her before i even knew who my mom was.
The woman who raised me with utter love and care — the one who pet-named me
‘kancha‘.
Comments closedyou reveal too much about yourself by writing real shits —
matters otherwise profoundly personal, risking to be judged.
you don’t talk at all, you enjoy the beauty of solitude and silence and peace —
and they complain, they put you aside, and you get judged anyway.
one way or the other, you are the tasty biscuits dipped in their tea talk, and a charge-free salt to the dinner served.
so, remember, you have always been free, you always have a choice to be.
Comments closed
she likes him,
she won’t tell.
she loves him,
she can’t ask.
he is like the blowing wind, the shooting stars,
fresh, free, wild, wooing, thrashing, speaking.
he is the one,
who can maker her heart beat mad ,
the one who can make it lull.
she dreams about him,
she can’t let slip.
she want to scream his name,
she can’t explain, express. she fakes. she’s helpless.
Comments closed
the greatest distance between you two
is the silence,
is the ego,
is misunderstanding.
Talk!
Comments closed