"The last when I saw myself in the mirror. I contemplated about all the stories trapped in my mind. I asked mirror if I'd forgotten who I was born to be, and my mirror showed me all the times when I survived death just to snatch my share of light, when I ran along with fireflies to get a glimpse of the Northern lights, when I learned surrealism poetry to argue with Rimbaud about symbolism and the time when I cried to the moon in hopeless. obsession to turn me into a lycanthrope in sinfully long nights, so that I can remember how beautiful it is to be human."
"You, a science lover. I, a philospher."
You, a science lover.
I, a philospher.
You see moon as the only natural satellite of the earth, and I see moon as someone drowned in the waves of the ocean.
You tell me stars are million light years away. I tell you they are sitting beside the moon
whispering their love in his ears.
You tell me the moon's gravitational pull is strong enough to cause the tides in the ocean. I tell you ocean is tired of living apart from the moon.
You tell me even light can't escape from the black hole. I tell you about the bird whose wings are cut in a cage.
You tell me season changes beacuse of the earth axis of rotation being tilted. I tell you about the bloosom in spring, a jealous sun in summer, the dancing clouds in moonsoon, the pain of falling apart in autumn, and the cold of heart in winter.
You tell me to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I tell you about how karma works.
You tell me the clouds form when the water vapour in the air condenses into water droplets. I tell you its the pain of sky that takes the form of droplets.
You tell me how the gravity pulls two objects close to each other. I tell you how your smile is enough to pull me towards you.
You tell me rainbow is because of the refraction of light in raindrops. I tell you its the ecstasy that heaven feels on touching the earth.
You tell me a shooting star is a meteoroid falling into the Earth's atmosphere and burning up. I tell you that a star is leaving its home to grant us wishes.
You talk about facts and
experiments. I talk about poems and stories.
"Words scattered on the parchment Choked to death is not what I am. Love, death is what I am."
If I told you I were a catastrophe,
Colluded to shatter the
Bells of serenity
To start writing a new
Messed up piece on you.
Would you still look for your
Serenity in me
And talk about your gradual
Crescendo of misery?
If told you I were a grenade,
Obsessed to destroy our
To rectify you from
All worldly ties.
Would you still write me
In prose and poems
And consider me the
Beautiful piece in existence?
If I told you I were a venom,
Choked the melodies of
To hear your voice in
Would you still listen to me
During our midnight talks
And call me the rhapsody?
Words scattered on the parchment
Choked to death is not what
Love, death is what I am.
"तूफ़ान ए मोहब्बत को कुछ ऐसे संभाल रखा है। कि हवाओं ने भी मुझे तुझमें गिरफ़्तार रखा है।"
Will restore all stories present before deactivation.
It may take sometime to restore your stories.