"Lihaaz aapko hai nahi, aur aap se muh lagana, hum laazmi nahi samajte."
_
you think planning a wedding is hard?
try planning a wedding for your ex-boyfriend whom you still love dearly.
Throw in a brutal break-up, mixed emotions, an arrogant CEO an...
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aaj dil tuta hai, toh alfaaz bhi ro rahe hai,
pyaar se aaj pyaar nahi,
khud ke tanhaai mein kho rahe hai,
shayad khuda ko manzoor yahi
_
After a week of my father's death, my entire life came to a standstill. I did not step out of my house once, my entire being was constantly questioned and I was in a world of my own. A world where there was no aim, no game, nothing. I did not know why I was getting up in the morning and why I was living and for whom.
My shayaris, my poems, and my words were now completely blank.
Love was my muse.
But love had only given me pain and betrayal.
Am I doing something wrong here? Should I be doing more for these people or should I detach myself? Should I cry, curse myself for being so naïve and weak, or should I be headstrong now, pretend like nothing happened, bury my pain and act like I moved on? My father's death was not as effective as the time he had left me here, alone, to rot in this hellhole. That was when I had already presumed that I had no father, that he did not leave me, but he had died instead. I tried to tell myself each day that my father would never leave, and the one who left was not really my father.
Feeding all these lies to myself, I had gotten tired of pretending. That time I had Ishaan with me, this was the phase where our relationship had turned into a little more than just being friends. He was by my side, constantly, I did not speak to him for a month, but he never left me. He was always there, no matter what.
I got into the richest school in the country by my scholarship, something my father wanted from me, but I was always bullied, teased and secluded from the class because I was a middle-class girl. The kids hated me, jealous too because I studied well and their jibes and taunts became a part of school life. The teachers never paid attention to me either, wanting nothing to do with a poor girl, and it was useless talking to the principal who hardly paid attention to the rich students.
But one person stood beside me.
Ishaan Mathur.
It was recess, and I was eating alone by the basketball court where some older boys came to bully me, throwing the ball over my tiffin and spilling the food all over my white uniform. While they and the others laughed, Ishaan stood in front of me, warning the boys to never do it again and being the son of the trustee had its own benefits. Ever since that handshake with him and him sharing his lunch with him, I had lost my heart. There was nothing fake about him, he was always transparent, always straight to the point and he made me feel as equal as his other friends.
