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.
Pyar kiya to unki mohabat nazar ayi,
dard hua hume to palke unki bhar ayi.
Do dilo ki dhadkan me ek bat nazar ayi,
dil to unka dhadka par awaz is dil se ayi.
Dil ki Awaz se nagme badal Jate hai, sath na De to apne Badal Jate hai, palke
bhi jara sambhal ke jhapkna kyoki Palke Jhapkne se Aksar sapne Badal Jate hai.
