Alohomora

I don’t know how long it is going to take now. It’s been almost an hour sitting at this bar table with this fellow who has shouted, "Yar!! Tu hain na asli dosth!" over ten times by now. I am glad he considers me so, but I am definitely not sure if he will stay straight without puking until I take him home. The bartender made another whisky on rocks for him and placed it on the bar table. "Another chicken wing for me, please," I answered to the bartender before he could ask me if I needed anything more. It is not that I do not drink. But today I knew that he needed a bad drink, and I would be the one to drive him home. Also, it’s been a long time since we've hung out at a bar after his new job. It feels good to sometimes travel back to the good old days. "Why is everybody obsessed with success?" Pratik spoke, stirring his glass. "I don’t know. Maybe success feels good to everyone." I tried answering. "yeah maybe.. I have another question....

Kabhi honton pe muskaan lata hu Kabhi ummeedon ka aasmaan banta hu. Kabhi kisi me jaan basata hu To Kabhi kisiko ko anjaan banata hu. na jane kitne raste takraata hu na jane kitnon ke dil todta sambhaalta hu.. kabi sath deta hu to kabhi chod deta hu.. hath pakadke savarta hu, door rakke satata hu. Gale laga kar samjhaata hu, To kabhi root-ta rulata hu. Sabki kahani, main jaanta hu, Vakth ke naam se mai jaana jata hu..!

 The same thing again. The same thing all over again. I tried to stay calm while my heart raced, Stared at the ceiling as eyes teared. I stood a prey while my fears chased, Lost my way as the end neared. The same thing again. The same thing all over again. I let it go while I should have held, I held on while I should have not. Voices were loud while I compelled, Should have given in and leapt about. The same thing again. The same thing all over again. I made myself numb while I should have felt, thought I was strong with my boundaries set. Regretted every time I tried to vent. Cared too much and now, it’s hard to forget... The same thing again. The same thing all over again                            

Why are we always taught the classification between good and bad feelings? As a kid we were programmed in such a way that we judged our own self for feeling something. No matter what I felt, I always had this voice in me that told me if my feelings were right or wrong. Beyond all this, the worst part taught to us was, the bad feelings were not meant to be felt. Whereas, good feels were worth to be felt. Why had no one ever told us that, all feelings were beautiful in their own way and why weren’t we taught to embrace whatever we feel. Every feeling in this world is worth a feel and none can be denied. Just because we were taught to be happy, doesn’t mean it is the best feeling ever. Other feels can be equally powerful too. A wholesome hug could break you down to tears Or an ugly fight can give you total bliss. A tiny effort can sometimes make you mad. Or a silent effortless presence could give you peace. It okay to feel sad, its ok to feel jealous. No one has ever classif...

How about a dinner?.. tonight at nine? I'd take you out somewhere fancy to dine. You'd show up with a Smirk that you'd try to confine But it would swift into a smile, and I'd take it as a sign. We'd talk over the dinner with a glass of wine, And I would notice your eyes staring into mine. We'd drive to your place, the couch would look fine. I'd slowly pull you into my arms and call you mine. Ur fingers through my hair, quivering my spine I'd hold you closer till our breaths would align. I'd embrace every pinch of you till the early sunshine. Just say yes! You'd have a memory that your words could never define.

 Unjaan tha safar. Manzil bhi tha Anjaana.  Sath koi khaas tha par na tha vo koi sapna. Safar bana sair. Hooton ne seekha muskurana. par.... Musafir sa mila vo jo tha na yaar, na begana.

“We would be working on the concept of human emotions in the next class, I request everybody to please go through the assignment I have posted. Any further questions? … All right then, See you all next Thursday” The professor Prashanth thakur concluded his class, picked up the files he had placed on the table and walked out of the room. Yash sat in the fourth bench in the corner row and he continued to see people walk out of the class. The class was almost empty. He just sat in the silent classroom with no one around. The mere notification tone on his cell phone bought a strong echo in the old classroom. He picked up his mobile from his pocket and scrolled down to see the notifications. There was one from “Mumma”, one from the Zomato and there were bunch of other notifications from mails and other apps. But out of all this, the one notification Yash was desperately looking for, popped up right before he could let the screen sleep. “done with the class?” Srishti’s text popped ...