Sabub Judai Ka Kuch To Batao Mujhay Phir Chahay Dil-O-Jaan Say Satao Mujhay Chalo Ye Mana K Fursat Nahe Tumhay Magar Ye Lazim To Nahe K Bhool He Jao Mujhay
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.
