Lemon CheeseCake

Her smile, it wasn't enchanting yet it was gentle and heartwarming. Those eyes weren't so much as almond shaped or guarded by enticing perfuse lashes, but they were kind and deep. "Oh please, I am not pretty" , was her usual response to plesantaries about the way she looked. Truth be told she wasn't pretty, she wasn't pretty at all. She was beautiful, but not everyone was lucky enough to see it.

To be fair it was foolish of her to think, anyone could replace you or even come close to what you were to her. She tried though, like a little warrior getting up every time she was knocked down by mistrust, disappointments and unrealistic expectations.  But that didn't mean, it didn't break her, because it did; beyond repair. There came a point, though; where she couldn't feel a thing even when she tried, even when she wanted. That bothered her too; but what she didn't realize was that it was fof her own good, for no one could ever replace you or even come close to what you were to her.

Meri Zindagi ki Wairaniya'n Bani Rawnakei'n kisi aur ki Mita sake ju na ansu mere Woh dast, baant'te rahe roshni

His wrinkled forehead, and the bushy eyebrows. That baby face and those man tantrums, she was scared to get smitten. Mainly because deep down she knew, she already was.

Old books are classy, the unpleasant moist smell and rough edges of the pages that have been touched by so many hands are a memoir of the lives they have touched. When your teardrop leaves a mark right next to that of a complete stranger, hundreds or perhaps millions of miles away, you somehow understand what they felt and what made them feel that way. Old books create a mysterious association among people who have never met, and probably never would. Old books carry so much beauty within them.

Har ek banna phirta hai thakedaar mera, Jab se hata hai sar se saya tera. bohat rooti hun tujhey yaad karke, bari mushkil se sooti hun  tujhey yaad karke, Agar jana hi tha tu mujhe saath le jaati, ju wadda kiya tha usko tu nibhati, dar lagta hai har ek baat se ab tu, toh nahi hai pass ab ju, bohat rooti hun tujhey yaad karke, bari mushkil se sooti hun  tujhey yaad karke, kabhi lout kar ju asakey tu, Ek baar seenay se laga sake ju, shayad bhul jao'n sab ghum mein bhi, shayad muskarao'n phir mein bhi, bohat rooti hun tujhey yaad karke, bari mushkil se sooti hun  tujhey yaad karke,

I saw you in my dream last night, still so beautiful, so sprite. While tracing the outline of your wounds I asked, if they still hurt? You looked at me and replied , "They look the same as before, but I don't feel a thing anymore". "Me too", I smiled.

Everyone heard her laugh uncontrollably, yet no one noticed the deep sigh that followed. Her high spirits made me wonder, how often she cried herself to sleep. She being there for everyone, only proved that no one ever did for her. That girl has a story. A story, I want to know and if I am lucky enough to become a part of.

that day I got home drenched in rainwater, on a perfectly sunny afternoon. ... It was one of those evenings she liked, when the wind made her hair dance all over her face, when it felt like a scene right out of a movie. That evening she stood there, gasping for air, as the wind blew everything away. ... it 

She smiled at me, trying to hide the hint of tears in those beautiful brown eyes. I smiled right back at her, pretending I didn't notice. If she wanted me to know she'd tell me, I thought. ... All the while she hoped for me to ask, just once.

Humans heal. Sometimes, it takes longer. Sometimes, it takes forever.

It is amazing to be present and not being there, not in a good way of course. Most of the times when we find ourselves helpless we wait for the suffering to be over, we learn to endure, to submit to what we can't change, we spend our days counting minutes, our weeks counting days, our years counting months. What is terrifying are the consequences not of the suffering or misery itself but of the endurance and the submission in a way we learn to be okay with what isn't right, what should have been right, what is ugly and harmful for everyone. We slowly and unconsciously become numb after a while. It seems like we can live with it and everyone else should be able to as well. Endurance, putting one foot after the other, hanging  in there, whatever you may call it no one deserves to live like that, we all deserve to live without fear, live out loud, live the life we want. Yet most of us spend our days, lives even, waiting, enduring, hoping. We shouldn't have to.

Indigo, for some  reason I had associated that colour with her. Indigo glitter if I were to be specific.I saw her walking my way and I could see tiny indigo confetti sprinkling in the background. Everything she did, illustrated perfection, walking, speaking, looking even breaking hearts. She didn't do anything she wasn't perfect at . She would walk into a room quietly yet everyone would notice her, they say some people are born with spark, she lived with one. She was my favorite thing to look at, to wish for, to be scared of. She was my biggest desire, my darkest nightmare. 

She lived in agony. She couldn't complain for she was blessed. She couldn't be thankful for she found herself helpless a little too often.

Feel free to crush around and obsess over guys but not Love. Don't be too desperate for love. Don't look for it not because it is not worth it but because it must find you, it must find you when you are not looking, when you have your guard down. When you don't have a "how he is supposed to be" mapped out. Because we fall for people who are nothing like our supposed to bes. Not that handsome, not that rich, not that funny, not that smart but 1000 other amazing things. So yeah. Don't let anticipation ruin love. Don't expect so much that something as amazing as love would disappoint you. Let it find you when you aren't ready, when your hair is a mess and you are not your usual witty self.  Because most of the times when we try too hard, we mess it up.

She pulled her hand away from mine, looking in the other direction. I remained quiet and as minutes passed by  she realized that her silent treatment wasn't enough to stir up a response. She looked me in the eye, and I could see the pain, I could see that I could have saved her and I didn't, I could see that I was partly if not entirely responsible for her suffering. Fighting back tears, she managed to speak, , "You knew all along, didn't you?". Too scared to look at her I kept gazing forward, while I could sense her fluctuating attempts to confront me, look me in the eye. I had to answer her, I owed that to her, I owed her a whole lot more than that, but even though I had anticipated this day, I had known I would have to answer her questions, even though I had assembled answers to those questions and practiced them, even when I had mustered up justifications to give to her, at that very moment I had nothing, absolutely nothing. "I did, all along. I wanted t

Dhaane wale tu aksar bhool jaate hain Sitam jin pe hota hai, woh humesha yaad rakhte hain

She choked on her own screams, to muffle down the sound she stuffed her mouth with the nearest piece of cloth , which against all the hygienic odds was drenched in her own blood. She smiled in  agony as the dried blood started to dissolve into her mouth leaving a salty metallic taste. It wasn't until then that she became aware of the moisture on her face, tears had made way out of her tightly shut eyes, tears that she wasn't allowed to shed. Freeing one of her hands from her captor's clutch she wiped them off, all at once. The movement made him turn around and he smirked. He smirked proudly on how he had tamed this mouthy bitch into an obedient dog.