Lemon CheeseCake

Terrorism is not new to this nation, they started killing us in  parks, markets, mosques and wherever they felt like. Often in the final exams and even in normal classed students are asked to write about the prevailing Terrorism in the country and its side effects. Every time I had to write on the topic, I would always add a paragraph or two about how this terrorism has helped us grow stronger, braver, how after it all happens we don't stop living, ever. Terrorists have failed to terrorize us, again and again. Then on 16th December, 2014, they finally succeeded, they killed 132 children, killed them brutally, killed them all at once without a warning. They deprived 132 mothers of their children, they took away 132 future artists, scientists or teachers from the country. They ended 132 dreams all at once. But that isn't the only thing they did. Yes things are going back to normal, we still live, go about our businesses, laugh occasionally but not until the world goes to sleep ...

I tried to cry, tears din't come. I tried screaming, couldn't make a sound. I tried to look away, the images were stuck in my head. A sudden dysponea took over me, when I saw a mother who couldn't breathe looking at her son, 5 year old son, still, so still he would never move. There were other mothers stuck in disbelief, fathers mourning, siblings trying to stay strong for the family or what was left of it. 123 children died today, were killed brutally in their school, leaving behind this hollowness, which may never be filled, ever. But it isn't the first time this has happened neither the last, the magnitude may be higher today but we have gotten used to it. The frequency has made numb if not apathetic We get over things too fast. We forget too soon. We forgive too easily. Tomorrow we will go off to work as if nothing happened, a day after that or maybe two we will start laughing again. It will only take a week for us to forget it all. But for some, they'll be r...

Winters are here again, but you aren’t. The chilly winds and the frozen dew, but it doesn’t feel so great without you. I still brew two cups of coffee every morning, but I only drink mine. I don’t waste yours though, not until the next morning at least. I still sleep with one sock on, but you aren’t here to tease me about it. Every time I jump in to the unmade bed, I can see you shaking your head, disapproving. I still have faint memories of how your warmth sent chills down my spine; ironic, right? Every time I curl up on the couch I wish you were still here to hold me. I still drink water with soup; I remember how it cracked you up. Some mornings I wake up to the sound of your laughter; funny how dreams feel so real. I miss you so much; I miss you all the time. But this season haunts me for winters are here again, but you aren’t.

Her hair is mess, She doesn't know how to dress, Her wavy black hair, Boy that angry, mad glare, That one sided smile, Is a never ending trial Oh the girl I love Oh the girl I love

Zindagi ki Roonaqie'n Zindagi Walu'n Ke Liye, Humein tu Lagta hai faqat ek Marhala Mout se Pehle

She was strapping her heels back on, when he came and stood in front of her. "I never expected you to be this cold" he sneered. She got up to face him, "of course I am cold, if I wasn't; I wouldn't love you, at least not when you don't" She sighed pulling herself together. "When did I say that I don't love you?" "But you don't" He grabbed her arm pulling her closer; "You take my silence for granted." "Because that's all I ever get from you", she protested. "It's all I have to offer", he said finally letting go off her arm. She turned around, her auburn hair was still undone, but she didn't care. She grabbed her purse and stomped away; only to return the next day.

As I lie down staring into the emptiness of the room I inhabit and the life I lead, wondering how things change, and people and most importantly how you change without even realizing it until you are too far ahead of who, you used to be. It is actually funny how you become a stranger to yourself more like to your former self, how you become so apathetic that nothing matters anymore. And then there are days or should I say people, who make you so sensitive, so fragile, so vulnerable that every pore in your body, every emotion your soul possesses and every wound of your heart comes back to life to remind you of what used to be and what never will be. I just hate such days,or should I say such people? Perhaps I loved them way too much, once. 

Faqat ek nazar mangi thi unse ulfat ki; Dekhte aese hain k sab loot liya humne

They sat in their usual spot, except nothing was usual that morning, it never could be after what had happened the night before. It wasn’t irregular for them to quietly sit there together, going about their businesses mostly reading, sometimes eating, rarely talking. After years of whatever it is that they had, perhaps they had run out of things to say to each other but the quiet was different that day, it wasn’t accepted nor appreciated, filled with whiffs of guilt, it was so suffocating. He gathered up all the might he had left in him and turned to look at her, and there she was sitting right beside him, so beautiful, her eyes closed shut as if trying to concentrate all her energy to evade what fate had brought her way. Despite the storm inside of her, she looked so peaceful, he thought how he had been so attracted by that calm, how he still loved her so much. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he took a deep breath and said, “I am sorry” she remained still as if she hadn’t heard him....

Every night she tells herself, it isn't what she needs. Every morning she wakes up knowing this is exactly what she wants.

Rahat ki dua kare kyunkar maza aane laga hai dil ko is iztarab ka 

She sits in the shade, when everyone else plays under the sun, brushing those wavy black curls with her fingers. She is just so beautiful, the way she talks, the way she thinks, the way she looks at me and above all the way she loves. I love it when she starts a conversation with her wise observations, witty comments and how she trails off topic, as if she has lost interest. I love the way she sucks her lips, when she is trying to concentrate. I love how she pretends to understand all the dirty jokes, her fake laughs, the way she ignores compliments because she doesn't know how to react. I love how she can be completely innocent one minute and shamelessly inappropriate the next. I love the sound of her hiccupy laugh, even when it is loud and weird.  I love how her lips curl downwards when she smiles.I love to just look at her, I could do it for hours, or even days maybe. Looking at her, God, it is like standing on wet grass, bare feet; stinging yet soothing, so refreshing. She is ...

As I walked out of the bank that Saturday afternoon, I couldn't believe that she was standing in front of me. Not that I had forgotten her, like I ever could, but I didn't expect to see her, at least not there not like that. And she looked just as surprised, surprised but beautiful. As she recognized me, she smiled her usual nervous smile, God! I loved that smile. Then she said my name and it seemed like it was just yesterday that I last saw her, held her hand for the last time. We decided to have coffee and catch up. I asked her, if she was happy. She shook her head and then grinned at me like it was okay, like that's what she had wanted. And then as if she knew what I was thinking, she had always known what I thought, she said "Don't Worry! I wouldn't have been happy with you either. I guess I am just built that way". "But I would have been happy with you" I regretted the moment I said that but I guess sometimes it is okay to say how you feel,...

Daagh Daaman Ke Hon, Dil Ke Hon, Ya Chehre Ke Faraz Kuch Nisha'n Umer Ki Raftaar Se Lag Jatey