चर्चे हों कुरबानी के दुश्मन ललकारे घर में घुसकर
तो प्रेम दिवस की बातें करना कहानी सा लगता है

जब तिरंगे में लिपटकर वापिस आते वीर चवालिस
तब चॉकलेट और तोहफ़े लेना मनमानी सा लगता है

जब शहीदों की चिंताओं पे सौ सौ फूल बरसते हैं
तब ग़ुलाब की आस लगाना बेमानी सा लगता है

बारूदों की आग लगी जब झुलसे देश धमाकों से
मोमबत्तियों में दावत खाना क्या रूमानी सा लगता है

जब माँओं की गोद उजड़ती लावारिस हों नन्हे मुन्ने
मेहबूब की बाहों में छुप जाना नाफ़रमानी सा लगता है

जब हो जाये सीमाओं पे कितने निर्दोषों की कुर्बानी
तब बेमतलब के जलसों में भी वीरानी सा लगता है

चीत्कार हो वीरों का जब करना हो कुछ काम तूफ़ानी
तब चैन से सोना भी वतन से बेईमानी सा लगता है

The world is grey.
Well...slightly more so now.
The nerve endings have healed.
Yet the numbness has lingered.
I stumble on my own feet getting out of bed.
Is it that hard to believe I’m simply.
Average.
I get more lost with compass in hand.
Although I can tell you how to find north.
Theoretical knowledge always worked in school.
But my life mentor is absent.
What happens when there is no teacher in gym.
A bunch of kids wandering the grounds.
Some fighting.
More aimlessly wagging their tongues.
Trying to figure out the social heirarchy.
Then there is me.
Smoking a cig at the edge of the property.
Day dreaming of past events.
Even then I secluded myself.
Unknowingly laying the ground work for the next ten years.
Countless routines repeated with different faces and surroundings.
Sometimes even the words would transition into the other.
In those moments I was living faux dejavu.
Losing my mind to my own reflections shadow.
If only I had read the letter My past self had written to my future self telling present me to listen to the mistakes I already made.
Maybe things would have been different.
The possibilities is what destroys the intellegent mind.
Not pain.
It’s the “why”.
The only question that will truly have no answer if asked enough.
And I can’t seem to stop asking.

It ***** that we miss people like that. You think you’ve accepted that someone is out of your life, that you’ve grieved and it’s over, and then bam. One little thing, and you feel like you’ve lost that person all over again.