Two weeks or perhaps three months ago – after all it was Bergson who knew, I was asked: What is your ONE favourite book out of all these books? Without realizing the consequences, I pulled the book out of the shelf: This one. The Forty rules of love While flipping through the book haphazardly as … Continue reading That one Book!
Tag: unrequited-love
I loved you
I was tidying my closet and discovered a bundle of undelivered letters and a diary with pages after pages filled with bleeding words, skillfully tied together with a black ribbon. I untied it. The cover of the diary had a very short but powerful scribbled note: Dear Future self, I do not think I will … Continue reading I loved you
Harry Potter and other random things!
A week ago, I was having a cup of coffee in a random coffee shop when I saw two people talking to each other. What is remarkable about two people having a cup of coffee and talking? Nothing and yet it inspired a whole series of unintentional events. Their conversation was drowned by the geographical … Continue reading Harry Potter and other random things!
1046 days – an open letter to the beloved
I had a recent conversation with a friend and it had me thinking about how I was framing you and how hurtful it was. How’s your love life? I don’t have a love life Why? Uhh! You still love that bastard! I cringed at this word. Master or bastard? I was burning in the fire … Continue reading 1046 days – an open letter to the beloved
3 months!
“Would you have known 3 months ago that we would be sitting here?” asked a friend in response to my claim of knowing everything about life and coming to a conclusion that it was not worth living. I was speechless but they had a point! A very important one. 3 months ago I had a Master. … Continue reading 3 months!
Tabriz, Rumi, Ishq and I
I held the “box” over the bin until my hands ached. I wanted to throw everything. I wanted to get rid of the last reminders. But, how many times had I already tried to empty this box in the past? Countless. In anger. In hatred. In a moving-on sense. But, I could never do it. … Continue reading Tabriz, Rumi, Ishq and I