Those Three Words. Are Said Too Much. But Not Enough.

It all started with a conversation. Thanks go to Mehrow Umer.

Today, I shall wax poetic about the wonders of the Urdu language.

You know how in English "I love you" is the phrase that is assigned so much weightage and yet so little? Let me explain. People throw it around like they are playing catch with each other, applying it to almost every facet of their relationships - making it slightly bourgeois. There isn't any development you know?

This is where Urdu comes in. In Urdu, there are literally degrees of love.

It all starts with Pasand (stage zero), which may range from the appreciation of form, to respect for someone's intellect or the affinity you experience for a certain personality. It is the most basic feeling you build on. It's not quite love but it's all about getting there.

It hurtles into Mohabbat, love in the most fundamental sense of the word. It's when you are overrun and awed by someone, when you look for someone in the corridors and gasp inwardly every time you discover something new. When you understand so little, yet are still willing to push boundaries. Magic, is what it is.

Then comes Pyaar, recognizing yourself in the other person - exploring the depth of that connection you formed when you first met or even locked gazes. It's about establishing an unbroken connection - solid and enduring. It's not having to say anything, while saying everything. It's just comfort - lacking the unsure spattered all over the beginning chapters.


Ishq is the third stage, which I think is the personification of passion - the point where you're ready to throw caution to the wind and just... leap. It's just the thrill... that passes through you and reverberates through your entire system at a mere thought. It's the trust between two people. It's falling together.

And last but certainly not least is Deewangi. When I write this word, all I can think of is madly spinning round and round in the pouring rain and just... losing yourself. You just cease to exist individually and meld. You're the same half of a universal whole. It's complete and utter surrender.

Fin.

There you have it folks. Until next time.

Musing Dipped in Lactic Acid

You look at them struggling. Thinking maybe you can do it better. 

You keep searching for something that isn't there. A face which by all means you should have forgotten by now. 

You wish you could draw the blinds.. turn away from this world of hurt and novocaine..

Who are you kidding?

You wonder what if? then shake your head and smile inconspicuously - don't tempt fate. 

You wouldn't change it for the world.

Dramatic Solos

You came to me in a dream

You came and it looked liked someone had beaten You up

You came to me and crushed me to Your chest

You crushed me to Your chest and said You were glad

You were glad that it was me You found and not that Khusra

That Khusra that wanders these roads at night

And knocks on Your door every so often.

Fin.

Shouldn't I Be Posting About The New Year?

You languish in your self created silences in the quad. 
You pretend to be not you for a modicum of time.
You ignore people's bodily functions.

You fantasize about the library.

You get through the day. 

On another strange note. I kind of got married. 

Well, not really. 

Ha ha. 

Anyways.

When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy.’ They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn't understand life.

- John Lennon

Now I know this quote is kind of cliched and overrunning Facebook as we know it (Oh the horror!) but it's my go to wish. Whenever someone points out a stray eyelash or a star zooming around in the night sky, this is the only thing I can think of. 

I think I just told everyone what my wishes are. Will they not come true now?

Dammit.

She's So High Above Me

Sometimes it's the climax you never amount to.

Or that shirt in your closet you never wear. 

Even that empty packet of those biscuits you loved so much.

Or that yellowed half of a picture you always keep in your jacket pocket. 

JUST TALK TO THE DAMNED CEILING ALREADY

Pyaar Sab Se Leke.

Life isn't living; it's living through something.

It's the arch in your back when you're jamming to your favorite Tool song.

You must have been high. 

It's your aching feet after you take off your dancing shoes.

Dekha jo tujhe yaar. Dil me bajee guitar.

It's the shades on the tip of your nose when you're lying around in your room. 

To Be Continued.