Wo zulfon ki ek latt - NaPoWriMo Day 9

Zulfon ki ek latt chehre par aksar jhoollti thi,

Ussey khoob aata tha apne baal baandhna, . 

Wo zulfon ki latt kuch aisi thi maano, 

Jaise chehre ki khidki par koi sundar sa pardha, 

Kisi pahad ki choti par jaise baithi barf, 

Aasmaan par chalaya indra dhanush

Saaf Paani ki jheel mein jhaag. 

Natak tha uska ungliyon se latt savaarna. 

Saajiah toh hume adaa dikhane ki thi. 

Humne muskura kar uske iss dhang ko pratsahan diya, 

Darhasal wo baghi latt usaki icchaon ka parmaan thi. 

Love Shorts #17

Beauty is subjective, but everyone unanimously accepts that it is not artificial. Make up, accessories and clothing can do little good if you are not healthy and happy from inside.
''I am not that beautiful,'' she says and it is the most beautiful aspect of her.
She may not comply to all the universally acceoted parameters of beauty, but I know that she is kind, honest, good-spirited and loving,  Hence ''beautiful'' is a word zi would always associate with her.

Love Shorts #11

I realise that we have words and expressions for everything but beauty. Splendid, mesmerising, spell bound, out of this world and perhaps my least favourite, speechless. These adjectives are used so often that they have lost their meaning.
I do not think any linguistic has been successful in coining the words to illustrate the beauty of her eyes when she smiles.
Neither can a writer describe it, nor can a painter paint it and nor can an actor imitate it.
We can never praise true beauty. We can only cherish the smile that it brings on our face.

Love Shorts #1-4

This January I plan to write about a 100 word semi complete love story. This is my submission for day 4, followed by the previous 3 days. Stay tuned for more.

...
₹4
The wet leaves tell me that the night was foggy. My wet cheeks tell me that she was here.  For all our conflicts she dug a graveyard, and tilted its mud with hand and love for fresh flowers to grow. Each morning is a spring with her. ''How do you forget and forgive so easily,'' I text her. ''I neither forgive nor forget. I am saving it all for your doom's day.'' She texts back with a wink emoticon.
The spring has been crashed by a storm.

...
#3
She sits at the window for long hours longing for her moon The night is chilly and she is cold. She fears not its coldness; she has become one with the night. She is determined to stay awake for the moment when the sky breaks down and sends her moon to her.
I watch her sitting at the window for  long hours longing for her moon. I pray either she attains her moon or I attain mine.

#2
At times her laughter chokes her words. At times, she finishes her sentence in a hurry to moan. At times, she innocently teases me with her mocks. At times she keeps on talking without a pause. At times, she speaks every word with an effort, and at a pitch cube root of her normal day voice. I see all these coming as I follow her eyes. And yet, even when I know that she is down, I keep asking her'How are you?'' For I hear that most people answer falsely to this question. ''I am fine, '' she says. And I hope it turns out that way.

#1
She greets me with her tender feather touch as fresh cream floating on milk and then begins the theatre in her eyes, where I see multiple scenes at once. Not sparing me time for a knee jerk , she beckons me with the most encharming darkness as she covers my face with the clouds of her hair.  Ending the exhibition with her most beautiful smile, she asks, ''You call yourself a poet and cannot write something on my beauty?''
I sink in her air and smile, ''I am not a poet if I write on that aspect of your beauty, which is for all to see.''
...

I would love your feedback on these pieces and if you have any sub theme for my next piece, I would try to write on it.

Thanks for the read.
Cheers. 

Photo poetry: Baarish aur bachpan

Photography credits to my friend: Kaushik Paul