Insignificant Details

Does this ever happen to you? Like, you are travelling in a crowded bus, and among the mess of pleasant and unpleasant scents in there, you smell a particular perfume. That scent unleashes a flood of emotions in you. Memories. Attachments. Entanglements? Perfume? That insignificant detail? Well, we seem to belong to the creed of people who have a knack of remembering such insignificant details. Time, my friend is an idea that can be killed by an insignificant detail.

इस क़दर प्यार से ऐ जान-ए-जहां रक्खा है

दिल के रुख़सार पे

इस वक़्त तेरी याद ने हाथ

This happens! This killer line is NOT an idea. 

Memories can be so soothing on the  heartaches. 

While leaving the Higher Secondary School midway, I almost broke down while saying goodbye to my favourite professor. He smiled and lovingly and playfully shook my head. I still use the memory of that touch... (not words, no!) to gather my spirit in low times.  

एक जंगल है तेरी आँखों में
मैं जहाँ राह भूल जाता हूँ 

तू किसी रेल-सी गुज़रती है
मैं किसी पुल-सा थरथराता हूँ

Do you remember the time we decided we were matured enough to not let the distance come between us? Do you remember how painfully beautiful all those rainy nights were? That same road, that same pathway, that same tree, and that same crazy rain. A few hundred kilometers away. Drenched in lashing rain is, my friend, a state of mind. And that insignificant detail can kill your idea of distance.

मैं तुझे भूलने की कोशिश में

आज कितने क़रीब पाता हूँ 

Do you remember that evening when we decided to live by the beach? Do you remember how warm that sand was? How salty that air smelled? And how gently that wind caressed our dreams? Does the sound of gushing waves somehow push you into the future that we will share?

हर तरफ़ ऐतराज़ होता है
मैं अगर रौशनी में आता हूँ 

Do these details seem insignificant to you? Or the other ones which are not about us? 

Like how I remember that I met my first boyfriend on 2nd of August! That I somehow remember the phone numbers of people whom I will never call... I remember the song that was playing in the bus when I had decided to quit my job. Or the one that was playing on my earphones when I was waiting to meet you. Like how I can never pass by that garden without smiling at that bench (empty or not). I can never taste wine without remembering how it tasted at that Wine festival. I can never forget how your face had lit up in the dark of that night. Or the touch of the hands we held. The peace that persisted in all the commotion, and the whirlpool of feelings in the dead silence of  river?

तेरी आवाज़ के साये,
तेरे होंठों के सराब...

Isn't it fair, that I don't celebrate anniversaries?