Realm of My Life...

You know when I said I knew nothing about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, seen lots of it, and it was the only thing that made watching my world bearable. Pain, lies, hate... Made me want to turn away and never look down again. I mean, you could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So, yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I'm trying to say, Tristan, is... I don't know how to express it. Like it doesn't belong to me any more. Nothing in exchange — no gifts, no goods, no demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing about you, too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

But what stops me from breaking free is myself only. When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults and they enter society, one of the politer names of Hell. Childhood is not only the childhood we really had but also the impressions we formed of it in our adolescence and maturity. Probably every period of life is multiplied by our reflections from past.

कुछ भी नही याद इसके सिवा ना मैं किसी का ना कोई मेरा
जो चीज़ माँगी नही वो मिली करता मैं क्या और बस छिन ली

मैं भी शराफ़त से जीता मगर मुझको शरीफों से लगता था डर
सबको पता था मैं कमज़ोर हूँ मैं इसलिए आज कुछ और हूँ

बचपन में लिखी कहानी मेरी कैसे बदलती जवानी मेरी
सारा समंदर मेरे पास है एक बूँद पानी मेरी प्यास है

-- Kalingaa...