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कब से मैं तनहा था, रास्तों में गुम था खोया था खुद में, हर पल में एक दर्द था तु मिला जैसे दुआओं का असर तु मिला जैसे अंधेरों में सहर तेरे साथ साया है, दर्द भी पराया है जितनी थी खामोशी, सब कुछ तू कह गया तेरे साथ साया है, दिल ने ये पाया है मैं हूं अब पूरा, तू जो मेरा हो गया सुना था मोहब्बत में रौशनी होती है तेरे चेहरे पे वही रौशनी मिलती है जैसे बारिश की बूँदें प्यासी ज़मीन को छूती जैसे ठंडी चाँदनी, दिल की राह तक जाती मेहरबां तू, रहनुमा तू जिसमें बसा हर एक दुआ तू कैसे शुकर करूं इस पल का जिसमें बसा है तू हर हाल का तेरे साथ साया है, दर्द भी पराया है मैं हूं अब पूरा, तू जो मेरा हो गया
“In the Spaces Between the Flute Notes” They say he played the flute for her, Each note a thread between their souls, A sound the world could never hear— Only Radha knew it whole. She came with anklets soft as rain, Her heart a flame, her eyes the night. And Krishna smiled, the boy divine, With galaxies beneath his light. They danced where time forgot to move, Where love was law and breath was prayer. Each glance a vow, each step a truth— No need for words when hearts lay bare. But even gods must heed their fate, And even love must bow to time. He left the forest, she the stars— Two halves unjoined, yet still aligned. She did not ask, “Why not forever?” He did not say, “We never could.” Their silence bore what words had shattered— A love beyond the flesh and wood. He wed a world, a war, a throne, But never laid his soul to rest. For every time he closed his eyes, It beat beneath her silent chest. And she? She lived a hundred lives Inside one breathless, longing name. Not bitter, no—just beautifully Unclaimed by any lesser flame. For some loves bloom and then depart, Yet never fade or turn to stone— They live in spaces torn apart, And still, somehow, remain our own.
“Where the Quiet Lives” There is a place the world forgets, Where silence hums in twilight’s breath, And trees remember all our names, Even the ones we buried in ourselves. I go there when the noise is loud— When clocks are cruel and hearts feel far. It’s not a place you find on maps, But one you feel behind your scars. A breeze will ask you nothing, And answer all the same. It will speak in rustling whispers Of the things you never tamed. Like love that never found a home, Or pain you wore like second skin. The wind won’t try to fix you— It will only let you in. And maybe that is all we need— Not grand relief or perfect grace, Just one small breath, In one small hour, Where we can show Our truest face.
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