Distance covered by primulas..

Archive for December 2008

ke mein tum se pyar karti hun. Tumhare dil ka koi hissa tumhein tasalli dai raha hai ke shayeed yeh jo kashish hai humare darmian woh meri muhabbat ka shaksana hai. Tumhein apne aap pe barra rashk aata hai yeh soch ke ke mera dil tumhare ikhtiar mein hai. Meine dheeme dabay lehjey mein kitni barr kaha ke mujhe tum se mohabbat nahin. Tum abhi kamsin ho. pyar, ishq aur mohabbat ke fark ko nahin jaante. Pyar to mujhe hawa, badal aur barish se bhi ho jaata hai. Mohabbat ke layak paiker koi mila hi nahin, aur ishq , ishq to aasman pe baithey kisi mehrbaan se karti hun, jo mere dard aur bardasht ko azmaata rehta hai, mager kabhi bhi takleef jaanlewa nahin hoti. Mein kaise samjhaun tumhein ke mein tumhein pasand karti hun mager yeh pyar vyar nahin hai. Yeh jo tumhari sohbat acchi lagti hai aur hum pehron baton mein gum rehte hein tum issey lamhon ki rafaqat ke siwa kuch na samajhna. Mera dil sada ka banjar hai, tumhare kurb ki boondain pal do pal ke liye iski mitti ko nam kar daiti hain. Yeh nammi tumhare saath mein qayam rehti hai to mujhe ehsas hota hai ke shayad dil ki udasi aur veerani kam ho gaye. Lekin jab tum chale jaate ho to wohi meri zaat hai aur wohi sada ki gudazi. Itni boondain tumharey paiker mein kahan ke mujhe sairaab kar sako.

Yehi kaho ge na ke ager baat sirf dosti aur mehfil ki hai, to kitne aansoo, kitni yadain mere saath banti hein tum ne. Ager yeh muhabbat nahin to aur kia hai? Ab kaise kahun ke hum thehrey shair aur deewaane. Humare dil ki daastaan konsi seegha e raaz mein rehti hai. Kabhi shairee mein dil ki bharas nikal jaati hai to kabhi afsanon mein. Baat itni si hai ke baat hoti rahe. Yeh koi anokha majra nahin ke hum kisi se dil ki baat kahein ya sunain. Humein to eik umer ho gaye hai iss shiddatt se jeetey huve. Yeh jazbey mere dharkan ke mutradif hein aur inka izhaar saans laine ki tarha laazim o malzoom hai. Ab bhala koi dharkan ko sanson se kaise judaa kare. Rahe yeh aansoo, to kia kahun, yeh paimana itna labraiz hai ke eik boondh bhi kaafi hoti hai isse chalkaane ke liye. Hum itne nadaan hain ke hanstey hanstey ro parte hein. Iss liye nahin ke koi khas gham hai, bas yunhi azad rooh hain, jab jee chaha hans parre, jab dil kiya ro diye.

Rahi baat pyar ki, to agar tum se pyar hota bhi to tumhari anaparasti ke aiwaz hum bhi keh daitey ke hum tum se pyar nahin karte. Kuch anaparaston ke saath anaparast hona parhta hai. Ab yeh baat tumhare sochne ki hai ke hum waqai tum se pyar nahin karte ya sirf khuddari mein tumhein mana kar rahe hain. Eik umer lage gi tumhein yeh uljhan suljhaney mein, mager tum iss saza ke baad dubara kisi ke jazbon ki toheen nahin kar pao gay. Besakhta khayal aaya ke ager tumhein apni ghalti ka ehsaas ho gaya to yeh saza shayad jurm ki monasbat se bohot sangeen hai. Phir socha ke nahin, saza to ghairon ko dee jaati hai, mein sirf apne eik bohot azeez dost ko samjha rahi hun ke rishton natoun ki kader kiya karey. Jab dil koi baat mehsoos karey to uskey izhaar mein kanjoosi nahin baratni chahiye. Jab koi tumhari kader karey to usko palkon par bithao. Yeh na ho ke tumharey hathon kisi ka dil tootey aur tum uss zakhm ki marham na de sako. Pyar to kisi ko bhi kisi se ho sakta hai, aur iss naimat ke dotarfa hone ki koi shart nahin. Phir agar hum mein se koi eik bhi doosre se pyar karta hai to phir ana kaisi aur yeh gharoor kis baat ka? Kuch nahin to hum iss inam ke aiwez izzat dai sakte hein us dil ko jis ne humein muhabbat ke laik samjha.

Agar sun pao to suno. Yeh sach hai ke Mein tum se pyar karti hun. Humare darmian ki kashish meri muhabbat ka shaksana hai. Mera dil tumhare ikhtiar mein hai, tum chahe mano ya na mano. Tumharey saath pehron guftago karna ab meri zindagi ka hasil hai. Yeh tamamm ghubaar jo meray dil ne nikala hai woh sirf uss ghusse ka izhaar hai jo mein tumhari bedardi ki wajah se karna chahti hun. Jao yeh sun ke khush ho lo keh har baazi ki tarah yeh baazi bhi tum ne mujh se jeet li. Iss liye nahin keh tum kisi tarha mujh se behter ho balke sirf iss liye ke mein apne dil ke hathon majboor hun. Jao aur iss baat pe umer bhar naz kartey raho keh tum ne meray dil ko thukraya aur mein ne koi ehtejaaj tak na kiya. Meri mohabbat ki takmeel agar tumse harne mein hai to mein haar maan leti hun. Abhi issi waqt apni harr man laina sehal hai mere kamsin jazbon ke liye, kyunke tumhare kareeb umar bhar harne ki himmat shayeed mujh mein nahin. Mein janti hun keh humare darmian kuch ajeeb sa rishta hai , mager yeh na kaho keh humare darmian muhabbat nahin. Jee chahta hai ke ager koi eik rimak bhi hai ehsaas ki to woh tum meray saath bant lo tak’e meray liye tumhari yaad mein koi thori si bhi karwahat na ho.




barishon ki kasam
tum to woh kuch ho
jo barishen bhi nahi

The French philosopher Jean Paul Sartre was one of the only two persons  who declined to accept the much coveted Nobel Prize. An interesting compilation related to Nobel Prize is available here. Sartre’s long – term companion Simone de Beauvoir was a well-known feminist and philosopher.

Sartre is generally known for his pessimism brought out in his existentialist philosophy. But one of the most romantic quotes I have found is attributed to him – “In Love one and one are one”.This quote reminds me of a beautiful romantic nazm of Parveen Shakir


Dua to jane kaun si thi
Ab jehan me nahi.n
Bas itna yaad hai
Ki do hatheliyaa.n mili hui thi
Jinme ek meri thi,
Aur ek tumhari.

It’s interesting to find a common thread between the pessimistic Sartre & the ever romantic Parveen Shakir.

Explain to me the difference between a delusion and reality. Explain to me, why I’m building up fantasies around you, when I know you’ll never be mine. Why does the sight of you make my body tingle with happiness? Why do I want to kiss your forehead and feel like a woman? Why do I find myself wanting to fall into pieces, just so you can put me back together? Do you know the way you break down my defenses without even trying? You leave me feeling stripped of my skin, looking at the core of me. The vulnerability you make me feel is frightening yet it arouses me. You evoke feelings in me which I thought I never and wanted so much.

Why do I want to cover you in a wave of passion and just bind you in my world? Just hold you for a brief moment and pretend you’re mine forever.

I want to keep watching how beautiful you look when the sunlight hits your dark eyes. See you laugh, even though its not with me, but see your precious lips curl up and kiss your cheeks.I want to walk with you in silence and listen to what you are saying to me. Are you saying something? But will you risk it all to stand at the edge of your world to accept what is really mine? Or will our lives collide and shatter into fragments which we won’t even recognize and forever live to regret..

A sad evening

the sky was beautiful
pinkish, purplish, magenta.
foggy, cold and breathtakingly beautiful.
patches of clouds,
looking at each other
with winking eyes.
like kids playing
and suddenly, a lonely bird winged across.
and my heart twitched.

Can you hear the
of my life?
Yes! They are audible.
Listen to them once dear,
Listen to them once.


My blue is calling you.
It’s full of sorrows.
It wants to fall down as tears.
So it wants you
To be near.
Please be there honey
Please be there.


My angry soul is red.                                                                                                                                                      It has seen you on the bridge
With that brunette.
And please don’t tell me
That she is your friend
And you were discussing on
Something called urgent.

Oh! Dear!
My happy soul is
On you I want to lean.
I want to hug u tight
Please come and hold me again.


My heart is shouting yellow
It’s singing a song
Full of mellow.
Come and hold my hand
And let us cross the river.


Ah! Don’t be afraid
It’s not at all deep.
Come on Hun!
Lets go there
To the other side of the river
To touch the gigling rainbow
And to smell the smiling flowers.


Oh! There’s a swing pink in colour.
And a concreate bench
greyish tint. 



Let’s go to that


And listen to the

 Audible colours of our heart.

The Gift of The Magi by O. Henry is my favorite Christmas tale. I am sharing it here with you having abridged the story.


I believe this might have belonged to Della.



By O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And the next day would be Christmas. There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and Della had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. And suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim’s gold watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a brilliant sparkle in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.


Where she stopped the sign read ”Madame Safronie Hair Goods of All Kinds.”One flight up Della ran, arriving out of breath.

“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.

“I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take yer hat off and let’s have a sight at the looks of it.”

Down rippled the brown cascade. “Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand. “Give it to me quick,” said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. She was ransacking the stores for Jim’s present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob watch chain simple and chaste in design. It would be beautiful with his watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim’s.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way to a little prudence and reason. She took out her curling iron and within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy.

At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. “Please God, she said, “Make him think I’m still pretty.”

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow! Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della. Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. Say `Merry Christmas!’, and let’s be happy. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?”

“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim, with an air almost of idiocy.

“You needn’t look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you–sold and gone, too. It’s Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you.” Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della.


Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table. “Don’t make any mistake, Dell,” he said, “about me. There’s isn’t anything in the way of a haircut that could make me like my girl any less.” White fingers tore at the string and paper. An ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.


There lay The Combs, the set of combs that Della had wanted. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims–just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses were gone. She hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”

And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!”

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

“Isn’t it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now on your beautiful watch. Give it to me. I want to see how it looks on it.”

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled. “Dell,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ’em a while. They’re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.”

The magi, as you know, were wise men–wonderfully wise men–who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones. And here I have lamely told to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days, let it be said, that these two were the wisest.

They are the magi!


If you are interested in the original you can find it on the web through classicshorts.com .



    • д§mд: love the way you've ended it :) please update :>
    • д§mд: goodness .. do I love this beautiful swinging chair or what :) Lovely snaps ... :) beautiful thoughts to go with 'em :>
    • Zios: It is hard to imagine anyone giving up driving because someone hit his/her car