I stay up through the night; because that is when the moon and I have our conversations. I tell her about how I drown in the sparkle of your brown eyes and she tells me about how the sun makes-even the darkest parts of-her shine. 🌙💞🌻
Getting to know her was not easy. She had walls. Many walls built up. She put them as a test to see who would climb them. Climb them, and you’ll find a locked door. The key is communication. After you open the door, that if you get there, you’ll see her wearing masks. A thousand masks. The trick is to let her peel them off one by one and give her a safe haven to be herself around. She's goofy, sedulous, smart, chaotic, and a bit more. You just have to wait till she divulge one trait at a time.
I see the story in your eyes, and I want to read it. Your eyes are filled with such peace and thoughtfulness, I want to study their meaning. I am interested in the story they tell.
I see them sparkle and shine. I see them filled with emotion and desire. I want to know the story behind them. As dark as the night and yet lit like the full moon they shine. They look so deep like the deepest book, filled with endless pages I turn with such delight.
Let me know your story, let me read your heart that fills them. For your eyes are the index of such great content. Open them to me and let me look inside.
करीब आ तेरी आँखों में देख लूँ खुद को बहुत दिनों से मैंने आइना नहीं देखा।
@wizardcherryblossom 💌
@bareilly-wala-jhumka 💌
Dark brown orbs, an ocean's trance, Diving willingly, in a lover's dance. Lost within currents of passion's tide, A drowning embrace, where hearts confide.
A tiny, beauty spot, unique and rare, Underneath her left eye, it finds its place, Adding charm and grace to her lovely face.
After days, both tough and rough, Her eyes, a haven, tender and enough. Soothing rays in wounds unseen, In depths, love's serenity, serene.
Yet, if tears dare to tread near, A vow whispered, sweet and clear. Against stormy tides, love as our guide, Protecting her eyes, forever side by side. ♾️ 🤞🏻 💞
"Haven't you noticed that we often bargain with poor people, like street vendors and auto drivers, but rarely negotiate prices with wealthy individuals or businesses that make significant profits every year? It's time to change this system and reconsider our approach to bargaining and fair pricing."
I love this scene where she was struggling to write a prose in her diary while standing and he lets her use his chest as a support and grabs the opportunity to study her so keenly. It’s so delicate and enchanting I want to kill myself.
i think i owe myself an apology for being in spaces where i knew i wasn't wanted & appreciated but instead i stayed. for forcing broken connections & ships. i owe myself an apology for putting people first who never appreciated me before myself
In the pulsating heart of Old Delhi, he navigates the bustling markets with me hand in hand.
A sensory odyssey through these labyrinth streets, filled with the scent of distasteful aroma.
But this aroma is different, even though it’s distasteful, it’s different.
I could smell the flowers outside a store of leather accessories, I sense the smell of sweat trapped in these salwar suits hanging outside a broken window.
I could feel the same as I move along the path of my lover’s guidance as I see a man who is carrying clouds tinted in pink all around his shoulder, making way for more space as I see him drift away to a different corner.
My eyes stuck on the clear blue sky, something so distracting yet peaceful as I suddenly feel my legs halting.
‘Yeh dekho, Keshi lag rehi ha?’ Says the man who stood next to me. His eyes with a hue of hazelnut, looked straight through my soul, as he picks a pair of jhumkas and places near my face.
‘Jujh rehiha h tumpe bohot, kharid lu?’ I nodded. For a moment I was lost in an unknown thought when I see a bangle in my left arm.
‘Happy birthday Sumedha, tumhare liye.’ In the crowd where time felt like moving forward, we stood there as I melt in his arms. I could feel the rush people had to reach from one end to another, but for once I wish they all could stop and feel what I was feeling.
Everything was perfect, he is perfect, the entire universe felt perfect.
पुरानी दिल्ली/विश्वविद्यालय में जन्मदिन
सुमेधा चटर्जी द्वारा
पुरानी दिल्ली के धड़कते दिल में, वह मेरे साथ हाथ में हाथ डाले चहल-पहल भरे बाज़ारों में घूमता है।
इन भूलभुलैया वाली गलियों में एक संवेदी यात्रा, जो बेस्वाद सुगंध की खुशबू से भरी हुई है।
लेकिन यह सुगंध अलग है, भले ही यह बेस्वाद हो, लेकिन अलग है।
मैं चमड़े के सामान की एक दुकान के बाहर फूलों की खुशबू महसूस कर सकती थी, मैं टूटी खिड़की के बाहर लटके इन सलवार सूट में फंसे पसीने की गंध महसूस कर सकती थी।
मैं भी ऐसा ही महसूस कर सकती थी जब मैं अपने प्रेमी के मार्गदर्शन के मार्ग पर आगे बढ़ती हूँ, जब मैं एक आदमी को देखती हूँ जो अपने कंधे पर गुलाबी रंग के बादल लिए हुए है, और मैं उसे एक अलग कोने में जाते हुए देखती हूँ।
मेरी आँखें साफ नीले आसमान पर टिकी हुई थीं, कुछ ऐसा जो विचलित करने वाला लेकिन शांत था, क्योंकि मुझे अचानक लगा कि मेरे पैर रुक गए हैं।
'ये देखो, केशी लग रही है?'
मेरे बगल में खड़ा आदमी कहता है। हेज़लनट के रंग वाली उसकी आँखें सीधे मेरी आत्मा में झाँक रही थीं, जब वह झुमकों की एक जोड़ी उठाता है और मेरे चेहरे के पास रखता है।
एक पल के लिए मैं किसी अनजान ख्याल में खो गई थी जब मैंने अपने बाएं हाथ में एक चूड़ी देखी।
'जन्मदिन मुबारक सुमेधा, तुम्हारे लिए।'
भीड़ में जहाँ समय आगे बढ़ता हुआ लग रहा था, हम वहीं खड़े थे और मैं उसकी बाहों में पिघल गई। मैं महसूस कर सकती थी कि लोगों को एक छोर से दूसरे छोर तक पहुँचने की कितनी जल्दी थी, लेकिन एक बार मैं चाहती थी कि वे सब रुकें और महसूस करें कि मैं क्या महसूस कर रही थी।
सब कुछ सही था, वह सही है, पूरा ब्रह्मांड सही लग रहा था।