Perfume

And she would try and put on every other perfume and body spray she had with her. She would take the latest issey miyake perfume her friend gave her, and would sprinkle it on herself, especially her scarf because after every two minutes she would just sniff on it. It was getting unbearable, she was getting irritated. It wouldn't let her rest, she would scratch her nostrils every now and then. Uncountable breaths she took so she could really feel the fresh air around her, but it all failed. As much as she tried she got it even stronger. Uurrgghhhh

Came stronger than ever, well that’s what she always thought, it always came stronger, stronger than before. It always made her numb. She would be performing her daily routine, but in fact would all time be living in that fragrance. If she could she would just pull it out of her nose. Sometimes she would think “What would I do if it continues for days” because it has been with her for days sometimes weeks. She could not get rid of this fragrance. Sometimes she thought, it was in her head, and she would go online and read about it. It was in her head, it was making her crazy, it always makes crazy all she wanted was just for a minute to breath without it.

This fragrance would take her back in time, twelve years back. Exactly like it use to be like this many years back. She resting her head on his chest. The chest she use to call her own. The chest she once claimed was her’s and her’s only. The cold shinny soft chest.. She would just sniff it.. sniff it and sniff it and would sniff it again .. she wanted it, wanted it to stay with her forever .. she would sniff his arms. His arms pits. She would look into his eyes and would tell him, “I just love your aroma and I want it to stay with me forever, I just love it “

She Loved him 

Oski uljhano mai bhi ik adda thi

oski uljhano mai bhi ik adda thi
oski her uljhan oski zulfoun ki tarhan, ik ghata thi

woh dewarain tor dyti thi, oun sy takra ker
osme himmat thi, aur yahi oski saza thi

uraan ounchi thi oski, bey laag
musibat hi toh thi woh, nehayat bey baak

tora, phir tora, aur phir sy tora
khud ko samaytnay k liye
osne apne ko phir khud sy tora

toot k bikharnay ka jash manaya
jisko woh zalim bardasht na ker paya

She is the Art ..

Art is messy, artists even messier .. 

For the one who thinks, for the one who feels, for the one who observes, and for the one who love, mess is everything. Mess is where it all begins, mess is where you learn to pick up the pieces, mess is where the tears are, mess is where the fears are .. 

In those tears you learn to love, in these tears you learn to grow, in these tears you learn to let go.. 

For as clueless as you always have been, clues are not what you look for, you look for the words. Lots and lots of words, for the words repeated again and again can bring back the trust which was once lost because of the actions. Words will break the walls, walls so high you can't see past them. Walls so fragile you cant even touch them, walls so strong you cant even knock them... 

You are beginning again.. you are building again the stairs. Stairs so you can climb the walls, step on them, watch the view from the high .. view is very different from the top. The good part is she is not scared of the heights, she has jumped already from a mountain.. she will stand tall on the wall to enjoy the light fountain ,,

Feet on the ground, heart in the air, dreams in the sky, tears in the eyes, she has begun to live the life.. 

For what it's worth.. She is the Art ..