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.
Shaam chirago se saja rakkhi hain.. Shart logo se laga rakkhi hain, shayad aa jaye koi humse bhi zyada pyasa, yahi sochkar thodi si bacha rakkhi hain.......
Mudat k Baad Dekha usay Bdla Hoa Tha Wo Najane Kiya Hadsa Hua Sehma Hua Tha Wo Mujhy Dekh Kar Usne Chehra To Chupa Liya Magar Ankhein Bata Rahi Thi k Roya Howa Tha Wo Uski Ankhon Mein Dekh Kar Mehsos Hua Mujhe Meri Tarha Kisis Soach Mein Doba Hua Tha Wo
