Turnings that make Circles.

I long to hear your voice. Just to wish you, once. I might, let this blog go now. Its about time, that i do what i said before. I am never going to write again. Although, i don't think that's possible. Yet, trying. Shiza, where are you? Happy birthday, sweet friend of mine. You'll be okay, you. =)

She was doing okay in whatever she was doing. Being all busy and trying to pay attention to the things which should've been top priority. She was listening. Then suddenly, she gets this happy news. After a long time, something she had wished for was coming true. Already written Destiny happened, it dulled her to tears. She couldn't pay attention any longer, the other's words seemed worthless. Mindless thinking. It could've been a rain, but cause of her efforts, it turned to little, tiny bits of damp droplets from her eyes. She could not afford to cry, not then, at least. She looked up, hoping after hope, they wouldn't pour out. They were wobbling so tremendously.. And she blinked. The tears, dropped in streams, unstoppably. Pretending to find something interesting on the wall, she turned. Wiped her tears with her bare hands, wetting the eye lashes slightly. You could have waited for just a little longer. She even got off early. Second or the last she comes in her li...

A silver, quick; a bolt in the sky. Luminating the sky bright for just a second, the thunder roars in its loudest and boldest manner. The windows clattered, the birds chirped into hidings, sheltering under the tree leaves. Silence prevailed for long. The monsoons have been here for a while now. They make the green foliage thicker and greener. Fragrance of geeli miti, wet mud, swells across the sky, giving a fresh feeling. I love the monsoons. The green, the grey sky, the drops of water, the frightening thunder; the sense of feeling it brings to convince you to re-dream the past that you love. The kind of sadness it provides, is the kind one can take refuge in. Monsoons. Like little kids, we run into the rain. Jumping in puddles, feeling such e cstasy, singing some old song you love. Chai Chuppa chai, Chuppa ke chai, ati hui lehroon pe jati hoi larki haii. I hate the monsoons The monsoons, used to be beautiful. Now, they are just another link to the past. Trying so hard to escape the wh...

How come your there, but not really? I feel your presence but I never find your full attention, why? Why can't you stay for real? Forever. I spend a life time trying to forget you. Trying to forget your love, our hopes and dreams. Then one night, we talk. Fears open in the wild, secrets voiced, united once again. Then? Then your gone. I search for lost pieces, I search for you. I was telling a friend. You learn to live without the people you love. Though you think the thread has broken, it never really has.When you talk to them again, it seems kind of a lifetime and paradoxically, it seems like a second's past, since the last time you spoke to them. That's when you realise, the thread's never really torn, it is all made up in your head. So make me understand, what are we doing? Playing a game of hide and seek? You hide when I seek your love? I miss you. Stranger.

Could i possibly be fading away? You think you own the world when your in love. Conquered the most beautiful, someone you call your own, entirely yours. You think wow, this is amazing. Nothing beats the beauty of love.Then before you know it, it crashes down. Everything you built, everything. I love you.In life. You gain some and you lose some. You don't realise what you have till you lose it. Your obsessing about the loss so much that you forget what you found on the way.I miss you.Just a few thoughts. Nothing Real =) Just WEIRD THOUGHTS!

She said she didn't understand. After all, how could she? She swayed her head, and said, " I am sorry, I don't come up to your expectations as a friend." The other she, cried on the other side. The could not look into each other's eyes. They both forsake each other, compulsively. The Other She sad in denial. Beautiful tears filled their eyes. There was nothing else to say. One said to Eight. Why can't we be eighteen. Forget our fears and live for the moment? Eight bounced, its two cirlces. Like a snow man walking. Walked away from one. She said, your blogs don't make sense. The other she smiled, maybe she had more to say, which would make no sense. Utter Confusion. She said she was a broken phrase. Can broken phrases be completed?

I sit in complete silence. I hear the english sir saying stuff i already know. I hear my family uttering words that have no significance any longer... My hotmail shows a sign saying one new email. No importance. It says, email from concerts@pak something. Concert in Toronto of Jal. I used to like Jal, till they became extremely commerical and Indian. The main guitarist looks as if he is a drug addict. His rival A.A on the other hand, looks worse than him. Rapid changes brought by time. We all changed to something we didn't choose to be; and yet we did. We break like glass and heal as soon as we can. Immunity, they call it. Ironically, immunity doesn't heal broken hearts.What are we here for? To tell each other that we hate each other when in fact, it's not quite the truth. Yet, we tend to say it.The pain is so huge, as if we feel like its going to burst open. No matter how much you try to explain the feeling, the words just never say it enough. Atleast, not enough for the ...

As a lonely soul i breathe, involuntry action. Can't stop it. Suffocation. Clausterphobia. Beautiful, little statues of gold; guardians of the Pharohs. Silly. Colossal amount of clay, structured finely into a prism. Covered by limestone, a type of lamination, protecting it from wind erosion. Now just a heap of clay, with tunnels, too small for a person to stand straight. Suffocation. Pyramids. Opposite blue wall. Three pictures hug. Two of me, one of my sister. Middle Picture. Smiling, mouth wide open. A U shaped mouth, a little tongue sticking out. Smiling, without thought, without any fears, without any lost dreams and people. A fountain on her head, covered withthick lush black hair. Khajjur ka darukht, Palm tree. Baby me. Choti Shellu. A black picture, incompleted white circles. A Traffic light, All three notches red. Stop. People always leave. Trees dancing rhythmically. Left to right, shaking their heads as if waving a farewell. Wind. I feel like a broken phrase, too complica...