LIKHE JO KHAT TUJHE WOH TERI YAAD MEIN!

  

The A4 sheets of words I wrote to you lie in the farthest corner of my bookshelf, hidden from the light. Those neatly folded letters, gingerly enveloped in soft pastels, peek from the minuscule gap between the dictionary and my favourite coffee mug-modified-pen stand, both into my eyes and into my soul.

You pulled me out from living on a chessboard to riding over rainbows, made my world "seven more colours" colourful.

Jab raat aayi toh, sitaare ban gaye,'

And I probably will. Soon. Until then, I'll let my pen control both me & my emotions.

'Likhe jo khat tujhe, woh teri yaad mein,'

It's hard to admit that this scribbling which began as a way to fill in your absence, to embrace your reminiscence, became a habit sooner than expected, in fact, almost unexpectedly.

'Hazaaron rang ke nazaare ban gaye,'

It's been a heaven of a ride with you and no, I'm not using the wrong phrase. It's been nothing less than wonderful.

'Savera jab hua, toh phool ban gaye,

Writing, to you, my love made my days lovelier and my nights a little less lonely. I talk to the stars & the wind, which surprisingly makes more sense than writing unsent letters to you.

The yellow corners of the envelopes tell me that maybe, just maybe, it's time to let go. The letters inside, definitely yellower, tell me to move on.

'Likhe jo khat tujhe…'