Posted:
kehne pe ayen tou sab keh jaate hain.
chup rehne pe ayen tou qayamat dar qayamat hojae, baat nahin banti.
karne pe ayen tou kya farsh, kya falak; sab muthi mein hai.
rukne pe ayen tou qayamat dar qayamat hojae, baat nahin banti.
There's this love I have for words when it comes to MaNan. Because they are always part words, part actions. What makes them perfect is when they combine these words and the actions and they just be. There's not much to be said, I am still stuck in that hug. A certain celebration with self is justified when one gets what he always wanted. But I want to say at least something. Not for anyone else but just for my sake. My kind of celebration I think.
Eternity is made of little moments etched together. MaNan are eternal in that sense. Because they always have these little moments which make them magic. No big declarations or humongous setups, that doesn't make them. What makes them is the very little moments that they share. The everyday things. What makes them is the way they know which buttons to press, when to talk, when to kiss, when to shut up, when to hold on, when to let go. When to use only gazes and gestures and when to put the words to use.
My god, when they use the words...
And chalta bhi hai. The way they use their words, ye sab chalta hai. Darya ko kuuze mein band karna. It's actually a legit quality of writing. Use less, say more. Say a story worth a lifetime in one word. They do that. Humesha. One word, qissa khatam. The qissa isn't even halfway done that but they say it, just one word, and they find peace and home and serenity.
So when she shouted and talked sarcastically and then didn't say anything, it worked. Because he knows it. He knows the way she communicates. She holds back, she holds back a lot. And he understands that. So then he says. He plays along then becomes helpless because she doesn't understand and he has to make her understand because it's him, him, him and them, them, them, and there's no give and take but them is half him and half her and he has to do his half. To say. To tell. Hold back but still reveal. The chapter which they deliberately left midway, he turns the page to that and he continues. You walked away, I didn't.
And she gets it and she knows it that now's the time to say.
I am scared.
Then it's them and words and communication. That one in a million wali communication between strangers which is the reason after all this time, they are here.
Scared, why?
Because you didn't apologize for what you should've.
And then he doesn't.
Why would he? He knows his words, he knows when to use them. And sorry is the word which isn't to be said here. So he just says his side of the story. He bares himself free of everything and give himself to her.
You protect me.
Words, words, words.
Words which are words because of what they hold; no pretenses, no shashke, no bana sajja ke bolna. Words used as words should be - raw, without holding anything back, without added weight of many syllables but filled with what's in the heart.
Then words are not needed. Because he says what he has to say and she hears what she has to listen and then there's action, which is what their other half is all about. To say but seal those lips and still say. Her in his arms, him on the ground with her in the air. They say, say, say and be, be, be. And words aren't there anymore because they've done their job.
Just what is it that they can't conquer with words alone?
chup rehne pe ayen tou qayamat dar qayamat hojae, baat nahin banti.
karne pe ayen tou kya farsh, kya falak; sab muthi mein hai.
rukne pe ayen tou qayamat dar qayamat hojae, baat nahin banti.
There's this love I have for words when it comes to MaNan. Because they are always part words, part actions. What makes them perfect is when they combine these words and the actions and they just be. There's not much to be said, I am still stuck in that hug. A certain celebration with self is justified when one gets what he always wanted. But I want to say at least something. Not for anyone else but just for my sake. My kind of celebration I think.
Eternity is made of little moments etched together. MaNan are eternal in that sense. Because they always have these little moments which make them magic. No big declarations or humongous setups, that doesn't make them. What makes them is the very little moments that they share. The everyday things. What makes them is the way they know which buttons to press, when to talk, when to kiss, when to shut up, when to hold on, when to let go. When to use only gazes and gestures and when to put the words to use.
My god, when they use the words...
And chalta bhi hai. The way they use their words, ye sab chalta hai. Darya ko kuuze mein band karna. It's actually a legit quality of writing. Use less, say more. Say a story worth a lifetime in one word. They do that. Humesha. One word, qissa khatam. The qissa isn't even halfway done that but they say it, just one word, and they find peace and home and serenity.
So when she shouted and talked sarcastically and then didn't say anything, it worked. Because he knows it. He knows the way she communicates. She holds back, she holds back a lot. And he understands that. So then he says. He plays along then becomes helpless because she doesn't understand and he has to make her understand because it's him, him, him and them, them, them, and there's no give and take but them is half him and half her and he has to do his half. To say. To tell. Hold back but still reveal. The chapter which they deliberately left midway, he turns the page to that and he continues. You walked away, I didn't.
And she gets it and she knows it that now's the time to say.
I am scared.
Then it's them and words and communication. That one in a million wali communication between strangers which is the reason after all this time, they are here.
Scared, why?
Because you didn't apologize for what you should've.
And then he doesn't.
Why would he? He knows his words, he knows when to use them. And sorry is the word which isn't to be said here. So he just says his side of the story. He bares himself free of everything and give himself to her.
You protect me.
Words, words, words.
Words which are words because of what they hold; no pretenses, no shashke, no bana sajja ke bolna. Words used as words should be - raw, without holding anything back, without added weight of many syllables but filled with what's in the heart.
Then words are not needed. Because he says what he has to say and she hears what she has to listen and then there's action, which is what their other half is all about. To say but seal those lips and still say. Her in his arms, him on the ground with her in the air. They say, say, say and be, be, be. And words aren't there anymore because they've done their job.
Just what is it that they can't conquer with words alone?
