Masroof hai din raat usy wakat kahan hai wo muj sy kary bat usy wakat kahan hai betabi-e-dil ka usy andaza kahan hai samjy mery jazbat usy wakat kahan hai
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.
Aaj bhi unhe pyaar karte hain hum,
har pal unka deedar karte hain hum,
woh na mile uska gum nahi...
par jiyen kaese kyunki aaj bhi utna hi yaad karte hain hum!
