Skip to main content

Humari khataah kya hai?







Humari  sharaarat  zara  kijiye   ga  maaf,
magar  churake  kahun  chand  lafzon  mien  saaf  saaf...
toh  samjho  nahi  ye  koi  khayal  naya,
ki  unhone  jaise  hasske  dekha  humara  dill  unka  ghulaam  ban  gaya..

Samjhao  toh  hume humari  ghustaakhi  kya. hai,
vo  sikha  gaye  ki  tadpaane  ki  adaa  kya  hai...
tair-e-bismil  toh  hum  qaraar  hue  hai,
toh  isme  tere  roothne  ki  vajah  kya  hai?

Gam-e-hayaat  se  hume  parwah nahi,
iss  paagalpan ki  taa'zir  milegi  toh  bass  yahin..
Humare  lehje  mien  musalsal  uska  ziqr  bayaan  hua  karta  hai,
unse  dur  kare  hume  khuda  bhi  uss  gunaah se  darrta  hai...

Bayaan  karu  unhe  qaid  jo  khayal  rakhe  hai,
unki  nawaazish  ke  saamne  meri  zabaan  chale  itni  meri  jurrat  kahan  hai?
Dur  se  hi  unpe  hum  aise  fanaa  hue  hai,
asiir  ho  gaye  unke  pyaar mien  toh  isme  humari  khataah  kya  hai?









Until next time,
Love always, always
S


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Miles of space to play with

People like to believe the universe is some grand orchestrator, shuffling fate cards like a moody blackjack dealer. But sometimes, it just sits back with popcorn and watches two people fumble their way into a slow-burning disaster that smells vaguely of espresso and unresolved tension. Enter Nat and Miles, two souls with more chemistry than a freshman lab fire, and just about as much common sense. By now, I assume you know Miles a bit. So allow me to introduce Nat. Nat. Now there’s a piece of work the universe clearly cooked up on a cheeky day. All sharp wit, unreadable playlists, and the kind of elegance that doesn’t try, it just is. She walks into a room like she already knows the ending but still watches everyone else catch up. She’ll dissect a business pitch, write a blog that punches through your chest, and still look vaguely annoyed that you haven’t figured out how she takes her coffee (strong, like her opinions, with a splash of skimmed milk and quiet judgment). But don’t be foo...

When the stars gazed back at us.

  When the stars gazed back at us,  it was not about beginnings; it was about recognition. About that rare, almost fleeting moment when the universe did not feel distant or indifferent, but attentive, almost complicit. ;) I woke up remembering you, All your words, old and new. Of dreams I hold of lands unseen, As if your name’s the hum I’ve known, your face the only thing I’ve seen. Even the sun bears your name,  Without you, rain feels strangely tame. They may call me mad, broken, or even wrongly built, I’d still reduce to dust all that may keep us apart, without remorse or even a speck of guilt. You and me, we took an oath, To be each other’s home through misery and gloat. If I were to do it all over again, I would, of course, I would, Wouldn't change a thing even if I could. I’ve held you through your sin, you’ve seen me through my crime Miles and miles I’ve carried all your shadows; you have borne witness to mine.  Across all lives, though you forg...

Notes from the Aphelion

There’s a story I’ve been carrying inside me for a while. Not a plot line or a pitch, but something else, something that feels like memory but also like myth. And it’s not about love, not the kind we usually talk about. It’s about Time . Yes, Time . That ever-present, slightly dramatic character that haunts everyone’s calendars, under-eyes, and birthday cake candles. Except in this story, Time isn’t a villain. It’s.. well. It’s something closer to God. And this girl I’m going to be telling you about, let’s just say she wasn’t born for chasing trends or hurrying through moments. She was more of a dusty piano in a world obsessed with bluetooth speakers. A little out of place, a little out of sync, but stubbornly intact. This story isn’t a love story in the classic sense. There are no stolen glances or sweeping gestures. But it’s still about love - the strange, slow kind. The sort that grows without asking. The sort that isn’t always easy to see, until one day, you realise it’s be...