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Literature

Apne Aap ke pichhe Khada hoon main…

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zakir khan shayari saymore

Apne aap ke bhi picche khada hoon mai,

Zindagi, kitne Dheere chala hoon mai…

Aur mujhe jagaane jo aur bhi Haseen hokar aate the,

Unn Khwaabon ko sach samajhkar soya raha hoon mai….

Zakir Khan

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4 Comments

4 Comments

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Literature

”She Unveiled The Writer In Me”

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She was the kind of girl who was usually quiet in large groups of people or around a lot of people. She always heard everyone but kept her response to bare minimum. But whenever she responded, she was articulate. And that was probably the reason why people valued her opinion too much.
She was the kind of girl who had been through so much in life that she knew pain in and out. She had learnt life, the hard way and she wore her pain beautifully. Although she never showed this to anyone but somehow I could read this through her eyes. Her soul resided in them and it clearly reflected the fighter she had been.
And I always knew that she was beyond repair.
I knew that she’d always be slightly off centred, slightly moody and the demons of her past will keep dwelling on her present at times.
She was difficult, I knew but then she was so real in this world full of mannequins that I found her irresistible.
So, I never tried to mend her. Instead, I started reading her, learning her…loving her.
I saw her sing her broken song and dance wildly to it. I saw her sipping her favourite whisky and sleeping to it. I saw her reading her favourite book and falling in love with the writer all over again.
I spent every day trying to understand her. Trying to feel her. Trying to breathe her.
And it took me a long time to realize that I will never be able to understand her entirely because she herself wasn’t sure who she was. She was evolving with emotions every day in my life.
So, I did exactly what was needed for me to learn love. I never thought of repairing her and instead started relishing the art she was. I walked with her without judgements, without questions…but with only a heart that belonged to her.
And that’s what unveiled the writer in me. Coz you know, I decided that I’d rather be ripped apart from her, than rip a part from her.
Such was my love!

She Unveiled The Writer In Me

By – Prathamesh Lohar

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Poems

आठवणीत तुझ्या

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मनाचा तर निर्धार आहे
सांगायचं आहे खूप काही,
तुझ्या नकाराचा विचारच 
मला सांगू देत नाही.

होकार दिलास तरीही तू मला
लपून-छपुनच भेटणार,
एकाठिकाणी बसल्यावर आपण
औपचरिकच बोलणार.

विचार केल्यावर वाटतं
त्या प्रेमाचा काय फायदा,
जर आडवा येणार असेल
समाजाचा कायदा.

येउन जाऊन काय तर,
जातीचीच भिंत ऊभी राहणार.
नंतर साहाजिकच तू मन मोडून
समाजाच्या नजरेने पाहणार.

मग प्रेमाविषयी लिहिणारा मी
प्रेमभंगावर लिहू पाहीन,
दिवस-रात्र प्रेमाला मग
नावं ठेवत राहीन.

म्हणून माझ्या भावनांना
अव्यक्तच राहू दे,
तुझ्या आठवणींनी प्रत्येक क्षण
जातोय तसा जावू दे.

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Literature

Humans, not Superhumans.

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parents saymore

 

No, they are not superhumans, they are just as vulnerable as us. Yes, I am talking about our parents. Just imagine the amount of pressure we knowingly or unknowingly put on them, by forming a strong image about them. Yes, they are strong, but also humans like us. They have their weak moments, they feel like crying their hearts out, but how can they? Because you have already declared them as superhumans, right?

The immense burden of that image won’t let them cry or open up. So the next time you notice even the slightest change in their behaviour, don’t ask them whether everything is fine because it is not. Just sit with them, talk it out and ease their burden in whichever way you can.

So let us not burden them by forming such a strong image, even if they go beyond their human capacities to meet our each demand.

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