Serendipity - Poetry, Articles and Life Stories

इन खाली रातों में अक्सर , गूँज उठते हैं अधूरे ख्वाब वही , जिनकी शुरुवात तुमसे थी , और अंत का अब तक मुझे इंतेजार हैं . मेधावी 20/08/18

कहने को हो चुके हैं कितनी बार हम किसी  और के, बस ज़िस्म के आगे कभी बात बढी नही. मेधावी 21/08/18

बस एक दफा  मिलना है तुमसे, ये कहने के लिए, वक़्त गुज़र गया लेकिन, वक़्त गुजरा  नही. - मेधावी 21.08.18

Just a story ... We loved each other. We did. It was all beautiful and rosy in the beginning. Dates, long walks, conversations over coffee, long drives, late night phone calls, early morning excuses to leave home and what not. It felt as if we completed each other. Now after 7-8 years, when I look back and think about it, I still smile but there are things that I'm reminded about that I still haven't forgotten. He was the best thing that ever happened to me but at the same time, the worst too. It took years to understand that sometimes love can be manipulative, manipulative to the extent that it disables your basic sense, instincts and thought process as well. It's funny how he could manipulate me to cut off with all my friends gradually so as to assure that I had nobody to talk to or share with what I was going through. In this society when you are ambitious, intelligent at the same time a woman as well, there are different kinds of struggles that you go through. My pare...

You came to my life And became the poetry That made me smile And forget the dark thoughts You became the door That always had enough light Crossing across me giving me strength You became that hope That ignited new dreams Moving through my wide awake sight You became that thought That moved with me Like a perfume that just had it's own kind of smell You became my 3AM reasons to smile That put me to sleep and Made me forget all the pain You are still my poetry But things have changed Now when I read you I find glimpses of my past Abandonment, giving up, Betrayal and indifference. Maybe you haven't changed Maybe nothing has And I'm back Back to square one Writing again a sad story In form of my poetry This time it's you who broke me heart But still, you are my poetry.

You'll be mine one day and I'll be yours, that's how we will at least assume while narrating our story to others.

When I sent him songs over the phone, To listen with me as we were apart, It made no sense to him, but he did. I had to ask for surprises, And request for flowers, Wait for holding hands, And expect hand written letters, But he wanted me to express, What all I wanted, And I wanted him to know, That I was old school. While I was loving him with all my heart, He was busy calculating the pros and cons, Now we don't talk, Now we aren't together. After thinking over nights, Analyzing over days, I realized, I was an emotional fool, And he was just practical.