A Beautiful non-Dream

I had told her earlier that I do not want a cake and she had confirmed that she knew it. She had assured me that it was just the two of us eating out like any other day. But it wasn't just any other day. And I had no idea about it either. Absolutely nothing. Keine Ahnung. Zero. Zilch. 

Our final evaluations were already over. AN and RP were already back home by then. MR and I... we were still there in the town - both of us had some additional work. We used to meet up every now and then, but the frequency had reduced a lot even if we were in the same town, just a little over a kilometer's distance away.

So, on my birthday, MR asked me to go out for lunch together. I reminded her again that there can't be any typical celebrations (cake and dessert stuff). She affirmed that it would be just a simple lunch. 

There was no reason for me to expect anything anyway - an out of the blue event or any surprise of sorts. I mean, it was just me. In addition, it's always difficult to hide things from me. I kind of had a knack for sensing out things like that. Plus a surprise event for me was even out of imagination.So, unaware of anything, without any clue, I entered the restaurant - one of my preferred places in that town. Oh my, was I wrong? And how?

******

I love planning surprises and/or events, because I know how to do that. Most often than not, I would know everyone's preference: of food, of gift, and how best to execute everything that they would like. It always made sense to me.

Noticing or observing minor details about people's expressions while listening to them, what makes their eyes shine brighter, what makes them smile unknowingly, and thus knowing what they like had always been my thing. I have always believed that being that attentive was my self-assigned duty of sorts.

But you see, I had never been in the receiving. And I never imagined or believed myself to be worthy of that sort of privilege. For starters, others hardly ever knew anything about me or my preferences. I never imagined that someone else too can be attentive towards my jibber jabber and get to know about me from that. But they did.

 ******

Guess what... MR wasn't alone in the restaurant, AN and RP were there too! For me. For several minutes, I couldn't believe that they had come all the way just for me! Why would anybody?! I mean, it's just me! 

RP had travelled some 100+ kms, some 300 kms for AR, and even though MR was in the town, she had taken out of her work to plan this. They repeated it, in a non-chalant yet in an utmost caring way, to make me believe that whatever I was witnessing was actually happening... in this universe ... and it was not some crossover from a different universe where I can be made to feel so special. Till date, I wonder if it was just a beautiful summer fever dream.

We had lunch... together after a month. After lunch, they gave me the gift they got for me. I mean how much more could one expect... this already was far far off from any expectations I could possibly have. 

As I unwrapped the gift, I saw that it was something I had passingly mentioned months back, unintentionally. I wasn't even planning to purchase it myself. It was just mentioned in a breezy conversation and that too not explicitly. 

It was like somebody mentioning that they used to paint earlier and probably should give painting another chance, and you end up buying them a set of fine brushes and paints. Brushes and paints were never mentioned, it was just a casual conversation about painting. (It wasn't paints and brushes. That's an example to not reveal what the actual gift was.) They observed, remembered, and searched for it: exactly what I would love and use. 

Since it was a first for me, I didn't know how to express what I was feeling. And there was so much of it... the emotions. Such gesture was new... towards me. I never knew I was even eligible for such warmth. I kept wondering if it was right. 

When you put in effort for someone else, someone you care for, it doesn't even feel like an effort, but when you are the one receiving it, it means the world and more.

After talking for a bit, MR returned to her work, RP to her home, and AN stayed at my place (since returning the same day wasn't an option for her). She left the next day after breakfast. 

That was not the last time we met...the four of us together. It was once after that, the same year after a few months. Now, all of us are awaiting for our next meet up. It feels like a distant dream. But you know if something that wasn't even a dream (a non-dream, if you will) could come true, this surely will. 

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Rain and Broken Bones

It took me years to realize where the broken bones really were. I did not know there would ever be a story I would be telling when I reached that small town for my university admissions.

All I could see apart from the airport, which looked like a makeshift version of an overnight constructed luggage carousel, was the rain soaking every bit of earth it could see, while dampening every inch of whatever zeal I had left from the shortest flight I ever had. 

If you noticed the unnecessarily long and dragging single sentence, that's how the first day felt to me. Anyway, let's start from the start. 

The sun was on the verge of setting down. As I waited for the cab that would drive me to the small town where I was headed, I called a friend. The usual greetings later, I told (complained mildly) that it was raining. Heavily. Continuously. The reply was yes. I was as perplexed as you probably feel now. 

They elaborated further, saying that upon asking around about that place to people who had been there before, they heard that it rains there almost every day...round the year. Every nerve in my body must have witnessed an unnerving malfunction upon hearing that. 

I could just think... what? All throughout the year? You can't be serious. And I am here, almost committing two years of my life to this place! 

Despite every fit I should have thrown, despite every resistance I should have shown, despite the small voices in my head asking me to take the next flight back home, my body moved towards the cab...like clockwork. I was heading towards that small university town... the very one that I wanted to run away from even before arriving there. 

The hotel I stayed in, the mountainous roads, and the drenched green trees in that town were asking me if I was really going through the admission process that was scheduled the next day. And then among contemplations of various kinds and forms, the day, or whatever was left of it, ended. 

Early in the morning the next day, I decided to just check the campus and if still I couldn't find anything that I find agreeable, I would not join the university. After a while of looking around, as I was going towards the waiting room, I thought (was I thinking or was it something else?)... 

almost every student here has a fractured limb. Probably because of the treacherous roads. The rains were not making it any safer. I must be careful in these two years not to break any bone. 

What? When did I decide that I was going to stay the 2 years here? Was it some kind of indication? And just like that...abruptly... I knew I was going to stay. And I did. 

Every day was passing by fast. And slow. And every night I would thank the universe for letting me survive another day without a broken bone. I changed my footwear too. I gave up on any and every kind of heeled footwear and chose the safest ones. I counted each step more carefully than I had ever done. I alloted an additional 10 minutes than it was actually needed to walk from the classrooms to the hostel rooms. 

Whenever I wandered on the streets, even though I wasn't mindful of my thoughts and my existence, I was mindful of my steps. And a semester ended - the first one. I was ecstatic to go home and exhilarated to stop worrying about broken bones for a month. 

The night before leaving for home I received a text from a friend asking me if my semester was fine. We chatted for a bit over text...about plans for the vacation, my flight timings the next day, their university's semester schedule, their travel destinations, and the like. 

When asked about the top 3 things that I was looking forward to during that vacation, I remember excitedly replying : not having to worry about broken bones, not having to wake up that early, and being able to sleep early. Yes. That was my list... I didn't realize it then and not even for the next few years. The reply I received for that list was in the form of a combination of laughing and wondering emoticons. 

Anyway, they wished me the best for the last few hours in that place before vacations and I went off to sleep. The next morning, thankfully, was a sunny day. I took a cab to the airport, happily if I may add. 

Just before boarding, my friend again texted me to wish me a safe journey and to take care. Not TC or a a shortened version or a sentence without the ending punctuation. Take Care. With the period punctuation. Those were the last two words, ever, in that chat window. 

I survived. I survived the next 3 semesters. Without a broken bone in my body. I was careful enough... more than enough perhaps. Even though I was aware of the 'broken bone theory', I perhaps never took it seriously and I am not sure if I still do. Perhaps, I overlooked it without even realizing.

The rains in that place washed away that realization... perhaps. Even though it didn't rain everyday as my friend had mentioned, but it did for most part of the year. And that was sufficient enough to wash away many things that I held dear. And...

It took me years to realize where the broken bones really were. 

=======================================

A Little Something:

1. This is a fictional story written from a first person perspective.

2. The 'Broken Bone Theory', which can be considered an urban myth, suggests that if a person has never had a broken bone in their life, they may face duress/challenge in their emotional or spiritual aspects of life which will be similar to the physical pain of a broken bone. 

3. In this story, the protagonist was busy in avoiding the physical pain of a broken bone/fracture, but had to undergo a similar (or perhaps more) pain emotionally, the pain of losing a friend being one of the many aspects. Just like physical pain sometimes numbs the body (if it is too much to bear), emotional pain too can numb an individual to an extent where they don't realize the extent of the loss and pain.

=======================================

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

आसमान

अब बस...

अब बस रुक भी जाओ

खुद को और मुझको अब ना और जलाओ

कुछ पल के लिए ही सही

अब बस बख़्श भी दो 

देखो मेरा आसमान बिलख के रो रहा है ।

/ 6

: 63

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Nothing To Read Here

So, the other day, I ditched "real" food again.

Why? I wouldn't know. I do not have reasons for everything my brain wants me to do.

But I had to include rice for atleast one of my meals. So, I decided (or my brain did, I don't know at this point) to make a porridge of some sort for lunch and udon for dinner.

The tuna porridge with barely anything in them tasted like the autumn air with whiffs of nostalgia. I couldn't figure out what was so nostalgic about it but got glimpses of an era (or a world) I am not from but felt the familiarity. It was strange... how the unfamiliar felt familiar. The sesame oil fragrance from the toasted gim (seeweed sheets) brought me back.

The dinner was uneventful, in comparison. With just 3 toppings (which included the leftover tuna from lunch), I made some Yaki Udon. It tasted like it has always tasted... blast of mystery with a hint of umami. Even though the shitake mushroom was not added, like I always do, but the umami flavor profile was still there... obviously I do not know how. I guess some tastes leave their ghosts behind to fill that void.

And that's how another day was ... uneventful enough to not have any photographs and eventful enough to scribe a story in the pages of my memory. Does it not remind you of something?

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Nameless

Take my ideas,

my words,

or even entire concepts

birthed in my brain.

Call it emulation, copy, mimicking, 

or even nothing at all.

Clothe it with

the facade of your name

or bejewel it with

accessories of pretense.

It's been done before and

would be done henceforth too.

I will silently acknowledge

that minute of recognition

my thoughts received

in the pits of your green brain.

Peace.

/ 17

: 67

Written on June 08, 2025 00.06 AM

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Things That Found Me

I went through few of my old things.

Something hit me... 

Let's call it nostalgia, for I don't know a better or more appropriate word.

(Funny thing with words haan!)

Old notebooks from classes

Strange how I remembered the color of the ink each one was written in.

But didn't remember that 

my handwriting was far better than

what it is now.

Preserved Letters

I still write letters but never realized

I used to write so much just a few years back.

What hindered me, if not the shadow 

of my own thoughts?

Did I grow up ? But then what does 

growing up even mean!

Tagged in as #UnsentLetters, they sent me

on a journey I never knew I needed.

Collection of leaves and the stories

I wrote about each one of them.

I remembered the stories, each one of them.

But strangely enough, I never realized I still would remember them...

even after all these years.

I remember the trees and how they looked.

What would they be doing now? 

Would they remember me, or the leaves 

they have parted ways since?

And the hundreds of drafts I will never post

I have nothing I could do for you 

and words have gone haywire 

in my existence now as I see each one of you

I wish we meet still, 

perhaps in another dimension, 

in another universe.

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

An Unnamed Story

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

चयन: Choice

कभी मन किया है? 

कभी मन किया है - मीठी रूई जैसे उन बादलों को थोड़ा चखने की?

कभी मन किया है - उन मुलायम बादलों पर लेट कर उन्ही बादलों को ही ओढ़कर उन्ही पर एक मासूम झपकी लेने की?

लेकिन याद रखें, ये फुज्जीले बादल नरम, हल्के और बेहद मुलायम दिखाई देते हैं, लेकिन इनके अंदर भी एक महासागर की क्षमता छिपी होती है।

यह बादल अगर गरजने पर आ जाए तो सारी दुनिया ही पिघला दे, लेकीन धीमी आँच पर बरसे, तो धरती को अपनी सौंधी खुशबू भी याद दिलादे। 

कोमलता एक चुना हुआ विकल्प है, कमजोरी नहीं।

/ 6

: 99

#D5June

====================================

A Loose Translation: 

Have you ever felt like tasting those sweet cotton-like clouds?

Have you ever felt like lying down on those soft clouds, covering yourself with those clouds and taking an innocent nap on them?

But remember this - these fluffy clouds may look soft, light and squishy, but they have the immenseness of the ocean hidden inside them.

If these clouds thunder, they can melt the whole world, but if they rain gently, they can remind the earth of its sweet fragrance (petrichor).

Softness is a choice, not a weakness.

/ 6

: 87 

#D5June

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Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Pause

Die unerwartetsten Überraschungen erleben wir, wenn wir nicht darauf warten. 

Das heißt aber nicht, dass wir die Hoffnung aufgeben müssen. Wir können einen Moment innehalten, wenn es sein muss. Manchmal ist eine Pause wichtiger und kann, wenn sie richtig gemacht wird, von Vorteil sein.

Pause ... um der Duft zu sein, der eine Weile verweilt, bevor er sich bemerkbar macht. Pause ... wie die Wellen, bevor sie zu nie dagewesenen Höhen aufsteigen.

Die Überraschungen, die die „Pause“ Phase mit sich bringt, sind erfreulicher und aufregender. Warum? - Weil wir Erwartungen (die Bedingungen sind) losgelassen haben und dennoch eine hoffnungsvolle (bedingungslose) Lebenseinstellung beibehalten haben.

Nicht jeder Tag ist gleich, und das muss auch nicht sein, denn genau darauf kommt es an, um ein sinnvolles Leben mit schönen Überraschungen zu führen.

/ 9

: 126

#D4June

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A Loose Translation: 

The most unexpected surprises come to us when we are not looking for them.

But that does not mean we must give up on hope. We can pause for a little while, if we must. Sometimes a pause is more essential and, if done right, could be beneficial.

Pause... to be the fragrance that lingers for a while before making its presence known. Pause... like the waves do before they rise to unprecedented heights.

The surprises that the "pause" phase brings are more enjoyable and exciting. Why - because we have let go of expectations (which are conditions) and yet maintained a hopeful (unconditional) outlook towards life.

All days are not same and they must not be, for that's probably what matters to have a meaningful life with beautiful surprises.

/ 9

: 129

#D4June

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Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

나는 너의 해바라기다! : Sunflower

내 존재는 땅의 어둠 속에 뿌리를 두고 있지만,

내 마음은 평생 하늘에서 널 찾아 헤맸다.

네 사랑의 빛이 내 마음의 영원한 인도자이기니까.

우리 영혼의 일부는 항상 서로 얽혀 있었다.

단지 거리가 어떻게 중요할 수 있을까?

이별의 긴 밤도 중요하지 않아.

새로운 새벽이 밝아오면 

너의 광선이 나를 비출 테니까.

나는 너의 해바라기다.

/ 9

: 129

#D3June

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A Loose Translation: 

My being is rooted in the darkness of the earth,

But my heart has searched for you in the sky all my life.

For the light of your love is the eternal guide of my heart.

Parts of our souls have always been intertwined.

How can this mere distance be of any consequence?

The long night of separation too doesn't matter.

For when the new dawn dawns,

your rays will shine on me.

For I am your sunflower.

/ 9

: 78

#D3June

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Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

ଚିଠିଟିଏ : A Letter

ହୃଦୟ ଝିଞ୍ଜାରି ପକାଉଥିବା କେତୋଟି ଶବ୍ଦ ... ସେହି ଶବ୍ଦ ମଧ୍ୟରେ ଲୁଚି ରହିଥିଲା ଅନେକ କୁହା ଅକୁହା କଥା। କୁହା କଥା ଯେତକ, ତା'ଠାରୁ ଅକୁହା କଥାର ଓଜନ ଢେର୍ ବେଶି। କେତେ ବେଶି ସେଇଟା କେବେ ମାପି ହେଇନି କି ହେବ ନାହିଁ ବୋଧହୁଏ। 

ଯେଉଁ କଲମ କାଳିରେ ଲେଖାଯାଇଥିଲା ସେ ଚିଠିଟି, ନା ସେ କାଳି ଅଛି, ନା ଅଛି ସେ କଲମର ଚିହ୍ନ ବର୍ଣ୍ଣ। ଯେମିତି ସେହି ଶବ୍ଦର ଭାବରେ ନିଜକୁ ଭିଜାଇ ହଜିଯାଇଛନ୍ତି ସମୟର ଶେଷ ଦ୍ବାର ପାଖ କେଉଁ ଗୋଟିଏ ଗଳିରେ। ଏତେ ଭାବନା କ'ଣ ଦୁନିଆରେ ଥାଏ! 

ଏମିତି ଗାମ୍ଭୀର୍ଯ୍ଯ, ଏମିତି ମାଧୁର୍ଯ୍ୟ ଯେ କେତୋଟି ଅକୁହା କଥା ଓ ଅବ୍ୟକ୍ତ ଭାବନାରେ ଥାଇପାରେ, ତାହା ଚିନ୍ତା କରିବା ହିଁ କାଠିକର ପାଠ। ପ୍ରେମକୁ ପ୍ରେମ କରିପାରିଥିବା ବ୍ୟକ୍ତିଟିଏ ହିଁ ବୁଝିପାରିବ ତା'ର ସାରମର୍ମ- ସେ ସୂକ୍ଷ୍ମତାର ଶକ୍ତିକୁ । ସେଥିପାଇଁ ତ ଚିଠିଟିଏ ମଧ୍ଯେ ସାଇତି ହୋଇ ରହିଯାଇଛି ସେ ହୃଦୟରୁ ଖଣ୍ଡେ ! 

/ 9

: 285

#D2June

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A Loose Translation: 

A few words that tug at your heartstrings shelters some unseen unspoken words. Those unspoken words are much heavier than those that have been uttered. It, perhaps, is never possible to appraise the weight that these unspoken words have always carried. 

The ink that penned those words in that letter have ever since dried up, and so has the stylus that housed it once. Immersed in the essence of these words, they have evanesced themselves- somewhere around the peripheral apogee of time's ultimate stance. Is it even possible for these depths of feelings to exist !

It's incomprehensible to imagine the sincerity, the sweetness that these words can encompass. Only a person who has loved Love can understand its essence - the power of that subtlety, that elegance, that etherealness. That is perhaps why the piece of that heart has been preserved in a letter!

/ 9

: 143

#D2June

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Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

To Be And Not To Be

"If you try enough, someday you too can be like someone."

Why would I want that? 

"So, are you trying hard not to be like someone?"

Why would I do that either? 

"Then?"

Why would I try to be or not to be like someone?

I just try to preserve my identity 

And break free from it too.

To be enough of myself

And nothing of it too.

To immerse in my soul's core,

And fly away along with the breath of air.

To be AND not to be. 

"It does not make any sense?"

Does it have to?

/ 15

: 99

#D1June

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

मैं आर्टिस्ट नहीं

पता है मुझे,

मुझ में आर्टिस्टों वाली वह बात नहीं ।

ना अपना, या किसी का दुख लिखती हूं।

ना बेबसी, ना दिल टूटने का किस्सा लिखती हूं।

ना फ़िक्र, ना अपने जिंदगी का वह हिस्सा लिखती हूं।

जिसे सुनकर किसी का दिल करहा उठे,

ना वह लिखती हूं ।

ज़माना जिस लिखावट को कलाकार की दस्तख़त माने,

वह भी कहाँ लिखती हूं!

तो किस बात पर ज़माने से,

कला का कोई भी ख़िताब मांगु?

किस मुंह से कला की इस नगरी में,

अपना छोटा सा भी हिस्सा मांगु?

हां, लिखती हूं मैं, पर तब...

जब रूह बेचैनी में क़रार ढूंढे।

हां, लिखती हूं मैं...

पर खुशी का नज़राना, उम्मीद की आरजू,

हसीन यादों की गुनगुनाहट लिखती हूं मैं।

कि शायद... कभी कोई ढूंढते हुए आ जाए।

कि शायद... कोई पलभर खोकर, खुद से मिल जाए।

कि शायद... कभी कोई ग़मों के शोर में,

हँसी का सुर सुनने आ जाए।

कि शायद, शायद...मायूस आंखों के भीड़ में, 

कोई अपने हिस्से के सपने बुनने आ जाए।

अगर उस कोई एक चेहरे को आशा मिल जाए,

पूरा पल भर ना सही, आधा पौना भर भी वह खिल जाए।

तो ना हुई कलाकार मैं, फिर भी कोई ग़म नहीं।

आर्टिस्टों में ना रहे कभी मेरा नाम,

उसका भी कोई शिकवा नहीं।

गुमनामी में रहलु, जिलुं, और खो जाऊँ, 

उसका भी गिला नहीं।

उस पौने पल के लिए सब कुर्बान,

और उसका तिल भर का भी अफ़सोस नहीं।

हां, मैं आर्टिस्ट नहीं।

मुझ में आर्टिस्टों वाली वह बात नहीं। 

मुझ में आर्टिस्टों वाली कोई भी बात नहीं।

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P.S. The loan word "आर्टिस्ट" (artist) has been intentionally used instead of the Hindi word "कलाकार".

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A Loose Translation: 

I am not an Artist

I am aware

That I have no qualities

That an artist must possess. 

I do not write 

Of my own or someone else's sorrow,

Nor do I write about vulnerability,

Nor of stories of heartbreak.

I do not write of worries,

Nor do I write about that part of my life, 

Which can make a heart sigh,

I don't even write of those aspects

That the world deems 

To be an artist's signature!

So, why on earth,

Should I ask of the world 

To bestow any title of art?

How could I look 

For even a meager dwelling

In this vast elaborate city 

Of art and artists?

Yes, I do write, 

But only when the soul seeks peace 

In disquietude.

Yes, I do write, 

But I write of the gift of happiness, 

A wish for hope, 

And of the hum 

Of beautiful memories.

Maybe someday, 

Someone comes searching for it.

That maybe someday, 

One discovers oneself,

After getting lost here

For a moment. 

That maybe someday

Someone comes to rejoice 

In the rhythm of laughter 

Amidst the noises of sorrow. 

That maybe, just maybe...

In the crowd of disappointed eyes, 

Someone would come 

To weave a utopia, of their share of dreams.

If that one face finds hope,

If not for a whole moment, 

Even if it blossoms 

For even a fragment of a moment.

Then I am okay 

Being not an artist;

I would sacrifice it a million times over,

I wouldn't have an ounce of grief.

I wouldn't lament 

Even if my name is never counted 

Amongst those of artists.

I shall live in obscurity 

Live and ultimately get lost some day,

Even then, I would not repine. 

I would gladly sacrifice everything 

For that fragment of a moment, 

And I wouldn't have 

Even an iota of regret for that.

Yes, I am not an artist.

I don't have that quality of an artist.

I don't have any quality of an artist.

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Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Crème Brûlée-d

Cold. 

Visibly frozen. Feels cold too.              

But it is that unseen warmth

That gives it its

Distinct Identity. 

Only the chosen ones 

Would know

And could feel

The warmth

That solidifies and unifies

Its sweetness. 

Bold.

Hard. Tough like a weapon. 

But the essence is in that

Creamy gentle softness

That defines its 

Existence. 

Only the souls

Who have the 

Empathy to cross that

Firm shell

Can immerse in that 

Soft caress. 

/11 + 12

: 72

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Let Destiny Word It As Poem

Decipher this, if you may

Who knows what it might say

I know not when, I know not why

Unbelievable as it might sound

Listen still, to the voice of the cloud.

It could be an idea, few thoughts,

Or perhaps a concept of sorts

All said and done, 

It must move my heart,

Enthrall me, like when I feel an art.

And then there is something,

I could never fathom nor can I explain 

All that ensues when 

You, as my muse, reign.

Life becomes Love and Love, You

Destiny whispers of dreams anew

Wishes with wings fly to the sun

In the sparkle of stars

Unbeknownst to me,

Like words from soul, the stories spawn.

It has tales of my heart

Every beat of it, That has You 

In every end, and at beginning's start.

I do not write a single word

I weave some to mask them, maybe 

And be blurred

Enchanted in Your charm,

The words find a home

And I let it be called a poem.

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वक्त बेवक्त

जो अब नहीं, वह वक्त, वक्त नहीं ।

पर जब 'अब' ही अब नहीं,

तब वक्त बेवक्त की कोई कहानी नहीं ।

तमाम लम्हे जो गुजर गए,

उन में वक्त की बेवक्तियाँ भी 

सलाम लेकर चले गए।

और वो लम्हे जो शायद होंगे कभी,

उन में भला वक्त शिकन डालेगा कैसे, क्यों कभी?

तो जो है, वो है... बस है ।

लिखना है तो अभी लिख लो अपनी कहानी कोई ।

क्योंकि हर वक्त वक्त है, बेवक्त नहीं ।

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N.B. Based on (and inspired by) the concepts of Quantum Mechanics and Multiverses, albeit in an extremely abstract way.

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Beyond

On the first day of last spring

He felt a tug in the proverbial string

As she walked into his universe

That began that very day 

With a divine aroma born into being

She was the epicenter of his existence

The meaning of his journey in every sense

His breath of esoteric air, she was, 

In the eternal sea of cosmic essence 

Her voice was the beacon

He never knew he searched for

And the depth of her soul-gazing eyes

Brought him to the sought-after shore

She knew too...

Of his heart that made hers beat

And of his angelic eyes 

With that profound seraphic gaze 

That smelled of divine flowers

And of everything sweet

His smile was the ethereal sky

That sheltered the clouds of her being

The container of her heart of imagination 

That breathed colors into a magical spring

They conversed about light from stars

And of worlds that could be

They witnessed the seasons

And the birds fold their wings by the tree

They talked of the mystical rains

That lived and rambled beyond the plains

And of rivers and oceans of glee

And the holistic fabric that made the sea

But on the last day of their first winter

They did not know

Their words of togetherness 

Would be like the words of a last letter

It would carry

The ambrosia of her essence 

That once was

But also a potion of existing nothingness 

That let their story pause

He no longer had his epicenter

Without life (her), 

His existence did saunter

He would sometimes smile

But it missed the glory that she adored

Fate took her, but not in entirety. Never.

For they have promised their bond 

To be beyond now and that of forever

Until then, he has their last words,

His treasure. 

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A Little Something:

This piece is written in a form similar (an inspired form) to a "Lay". Though a Lay generally follows a fixed rhyme scheme and is often written in octosyllabic verses, there are often Lays (one such written in the 13th century) that follows multiple rhyming schemes,  verses of different lengths, i.e. non-uniform stanzas, and varying syllables. 

The same has been done here, multiple rhyming schemes (but with a single rhythm) and verses with varying syllables. Of course, the quality is different. However, hope this piece conveys the love and narrative passion with which it was written. 

====================================

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

खोज में मैं

मैं अगर कभी मैं ही ना रह पाऊँ 

अपनी परछाईयों में अगर मैं ही खो जाऊँ 

क्या ढूँढ लेगी मेरी रोशनी यूँही मुझको मुझ में 

या उसके लिए सपनो का एक रोशनदान बनाऊँ 

पर मैं कागज का बेमतलब सा कोई फूल नहीं 

के बिन कहानी बिन खुशबू के मैं यूँही खो जाऊँ 

मैं हूँ भिनी सी वो अनोखी अनसुनी गमक 

के हवा के मुस्काती साँसो में मैं यूँ सज जाऊँ 

बारिश की बूंदो में मैं सौंधी सी महक छुपाऊँ 

आसमान से रंग लेके मैं दरिया में मिल जाऊँ 

उस तेज दरिया के किस्सों में भी मैं बस जाऊँ 

उन कहानीयों के हिस्सों में भी मैं रो-हस पाऊँ 

पर उन में शामिल होके भी मुझको मुझ में ही पाऊँ 

इस कथानक की कथा बादलों की स्याही में लिख जाऊँ 

मैं हूँ अब भी जब है रोशनी और वह परछाई भी 

रोशनी की परछाई और परछाई की रोशनी में मैं खुद को पाऊँ 

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