I mean...
I want to forget the first time I saw her during lunch break—
how time slowed down, how the crowd faded, how just her smile
felt like home in a world of strangers...
I want to forget our first meeting in the rain—
the way the heavens poured,
and still, her eyes held a calm that washed away every storm inside me...
I want to forget the first time I asked,
"Can I hold your hand?"
and how her fingers, trembling but sure,
wove themselves into mine like a whispered promise...
I want to forget the ghost house kiss—
how fear and laughter tangled between us,
and in that sudden silence, I stole a moment
that felt like eternity...
I want to forget the first hug—
the kind that didn't end with arms,
but became a prayer to never let go,
a wish to be one breath, one heartbeat...
I want to forget all the good times we spent together—
not because they weren't beautiful,
but because they were TOO beautiful.
And sometimes, letting go hurts more
when what you're holding onto still smiles in your memories...
I want to forget—
because only then
will it finally hurt a little less to move on.

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"A Glimpse in the Moonlight"

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"To all the 'Qarib Qarib Singlle' hearts still holding on to their Radhas, Anjalis, and Gauris—know this: when they’ve moved on with life, perhaps it’s time you do too. For love isn’t just about the laughs you once shared, but the tears you’re willing to share now. Open your heart to the Jaya of today—she’s not your past, she’s your maybe, your miracle, your MORE. Let go, not to forget, but to feel again. To love again. To give life one more chance—this time, fully, fearlessly, forever."

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Unpopular opinion, maybe—but I think Piku is a better love story than Rockstar.

Piku is like a large pot of water with a sugar bottle resting gently above it—slowly, over time, a few drops trickle in. It doesn’t scream love; it seeps in, unhurried and real. Bit by bit, the sweetness spreads, until the whole pot is quietly transformed. That’s how love grows—in silences, shared responsibilities, stolen glances, and unspoken understanding.

Rockstar, by contrast, feels like dumping the sugar bottle all at once—intense, messy, overwhelming. It burns bright, sure, but it also leaves behind undissolved lumps. Piku teaches that love doesn’t always need fireworks. Sometimes, a slow brew leaves the deepest flavor.

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All I Dreamt Of💕

I didn’t dream of palaces, nor stars too far to see,
Just her hand in mine — that was heaven for me.
A red saree wrapped in sunlight’s embrace,
Vermilion glowing on her forehead like grace.

I dreamt of rooftops where silence would sing,
And breezes would carry the scent she’d bring.
Both wind and I, soft on her cheek,
While the jealous moon would hide and peek.

No words, no rush, just timeless gaze,
Two hearts talking in love’s own phrase.
The world could spin, but we’d be still,
Wrapped in a quiet only love can fill.

And when this life would say goodbye,
And stars would claim me from the sky,
I'd search the next world’s endless hue—
Just to find her, and love her anew.

That’s all I dreamt, not much, just this—
Her hand, her smile, a rooftop kiss.
A love so deep it would not sever,
Not even death… could end forever.

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Seven Worlds, One Love

What if seven lifetimes were seven worlds unknown,
And in each, the same faces, the same hearts we've known?
A destiny woven in threads unseen,
A love that lingers where souls have been.

We walk through realms, through time untold,
Yet the same embrace keeps us bold.
How else does a heart lose its way,
Only to race for one glance, one sway?

Perhaps we are echoes across the stars,
Drawn to the same light, no matter how far.
For love is not bound by life or fate,
It finds its way through every gate.

So if today we part, do not despair,
In another world, I'll meet you there.
Once more, my heart will know your name,
Once more, we’ll love, again the same.

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A hue so rare, a dream untold,
A mountain’s whisper, soft yet bold.
Neelakurinji blooms in time’s embrace,
Painting the hills in a fleeting grace.

The misty peaks embrace its shade,
A mystic glow that shall not fade.
If hearts could bleed in colors true,
Mine would spill this wondrous hue.

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The Ink of Love: Amrita and Imroz




(Do read the full story below...thank you 🙂)

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The Ones Who Fought and Lost

Where shall they stand, the ones who bled,
Who marched with fire but fell instead?
Not crowned in glory, nor safe at home,
Their fate is silence, dust, and stone.

Will they be named with victors proud,
Or cast aside, lost in the crowd?
Not cowards, no, they did not flee,
Yet no songs sing their agony.

Their scars—do they tell of defeat,
Or of hearts that refused retreat?
They lost, yet more than just the fight,
Their dreams fell first, then faded light.

So tell me, when their tale is spun,
Will they stand with those who won?
Or will their battle be erased,
Their bravery left untraced?

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उस नए शख़्स के ताह उम्र संग होने पर भी,
मेरे संग बिताए चंद साल भारी तो होगी!
वो थोड़ी न, हर बार रो कर मिलता होगा तुमसे
और बिछड़ने पे, न हर बार रोता होगा...

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