Archive for August, 2009


Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.

From Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

August 24, 2009 at 10:23 pm 3 comments

Na Fikr-e-Ferda , Na yaad-e- maazi

Na chain dil ko , Na beqarari

Na had say guzra hua janoon woh

Na khamoshi wo pehlay jesi

Bus ik udasi he dheemi dheemi

Bus aik khamosh si be-qarari

Jo zindagi ke adhooray pan ko

Hadon say agay berha rehi he


Socho to sab insan kitnay aik jesay hotay hain. Khushi , gham, udasi, chahat, mohabat… sab jazbay aik jesay. bus shayid farq he to jazbon k izhar ka.

Kabhi kabhi kesay kisi aur ki kahi baat ap ki soch ko bayan ker deti he. jesay yeh pyari si nazam.

Aasim bhi to mujhay aisay hi yaad atay hain na. Halka Halka sa dard her waqt, her pal.

August 16, 2009 at 8:33 pm 3 comments

Recent Comments