Monsoon..
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 ecstasy, 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 whole season entirely, but you can't.
It comes with the package of Islamabad, where great monsoon weddings are held.
Bringing colossal Loss.
It exists, lurks and defines, the beginning of the ends and the endings of the ends.
Marks the parameter of the Ones you Lose, which clearly puts the full stop.
To friendships, sisters, lovers and Vacation.
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 ecstasy, 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 whole season entirely, but you can't.
It comes with the package of Islamabad, where great monsoon weddings are held.
Bringing colossal Loss.
It exists, lurks and defines, the beginning of the ends and the endings of the ends.
Marks the parameter of the Ones you Lose, which clearly puts the full stop.
To friendships, sisters, lovers and Vacation.
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