Bachpan Ka Pyaar ✓ (#1 pyaar series)

saat. sukoon

saat. sukoon

dil jab bhi dard deta hai, tab yaad aati hai aapki,

dil jab bhi tuta hai, tab yaad aati hai aapki,

aapke un vaado ki jo kahi kho gayi, iss zaalim duniya ki tarah,

humare saath humare ranjishen bhi ro gayi

_

Watching a sun set is a mark of ending the day on a calm note, to sit and witness the day come to a rest and to awe in delight to see the moon shine up. Often, I feel that the sun is a little too caring about the humans, people who do not even take time to admire its burning beauty. It burns and burns so all of humanity can live their days in bright light and when it's time for it to meet the other half of the world, it sets up the moon to guide the humans in their darkest nights.

But the moon is not as selfless as the sun, because the moon has seen what humans really are in their darkest hour. Their tears, their anger, their fears and their restlessness are all known to it. And hence, it keeps running away from us until one night it disappears and on those nights, people in the dark, miss the small blob of light and sit back, hoping to have that little shimmer of light, back.

Like tonight, as I sat on the water tank on the little terrace of our building, looking up and wondering if the moon was happy by seeing us people long for him. Was it a little attention seeker or was it just like us, selfish and demanding?

I looked up at the dark night, "I miss you," I said, softly, finding no one but darkness everywhere. The terrace was a wretched place, it always smelled strongly of something pungent and the water tank was the only place available to sit, everything else was covered by either dirt or bird droppings. The tank was at a height and there was a little steel rusted ladder to climb up on and although the view might not be perfect, it was worth it.

That is of course if you do not slip and fall to your death.

"I miss you so much,"

But neither the moon was there to hear it, nor the person whom I really missed since these empty years. More like I missed the solace they offered to my soul.

It's weird how love can make you or mar you and it's weird how it is such a powerful thing in this whole world.

Who gave so much power to love? I'd like to speak to some high authority up there who thought it would be best to assign love as the highest honor, and I'd like to show them how miserable love could be.

The stinging on my hands broke my trance and I looked down at my hands, the red marks were now bleeding a little and the others were now a shade of blue. My eyes watered almost instantly as I brushed my fingers on the fresh wounds on my hands, both of them, like it was henna. The burn marks, the tight grip and the stinging was nothing in comparison to the emotional abuse, which my mother bestowed on me.