Main apni raaton ki fursaton main tuje manaon to maan jana Agar kisidin main apne ansu jo le k aaun to maan jana Ye 1 dil hi tumhe diya tha so iss liye Jo sooli pe muskuraon to maan jana Tu bad-guman hai meri wafa pe to sirf 1 bar azma le Jo haar jaoon to lot jana jo jeet jaoon To maan jana
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
