Bekhatar kud para aatish e namrood main Ishq
Aqal hai mehv e Tamasha e lab e baam abhi
The word Ishq is made up of three letters, "Ain, sheen and qaaf" and these three letters stand for three stages of love.
Ain: Ain is for "ibadat" which means wors...
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The night was like a blanket full of tiny lights, and it was the last evening Murtasim and Mahjabeen would spend in their little village. Murtasim felt a twist in his stomach because he didn't want to leave; the village had never felt so calm and full of life before. It was like a secret spot where he could breathe easily. He pulled Mahjabeen up to the rooftop to share the view of the endless sky with her.
Mahjabeen joked, looking up, "The moon's gone shy because it saw you," making Murtasim laugh. Her words were light and teasing, and they made the night feel even more special.
As Mahjabeen talked about the stars, Murtasim couldn't help but watch her face. He saw the soft blush on her cheeks when she realized how close he was. She turned to him, a bit embarrassed, and said, "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll start blushing."
Murtasim's laugh was loud and happy, showing all his teeth. When Mahjabeen called him "gudda", he pretended to be upset. He didn't really mind; he just wanted to see her reaction. "I'm not your doll," he said, trying to look annoyed.
They sat side by side, and Mahjabeen slowly reached out to touch his hand. Murtasim noticed and waited to see what she would do. They started nudging each other, gently at first, then harder, until they were both laughing so much that Murtasim almost fell down the roof.
"Mahjabeen, you're too much!" he said. "First, you push me off the bed in the morning, and now you're trying to push me off the roof at night!"
She quickly said sorry, holding her ears and blinking fast, looking so sincere that Murtasim couldn't stay mad. He kissed her hand gently, and she moved closer to him, resting her hand on his back. Murtasim leaned back, letting her come closer, and Mahjabeen's smile showed she felt like she had won a small victory.
"Mai jab choti thi na tab mai shayar banna chahti thi," he blinked his eyes, remembering her that phase where she would sing things instead of talking, "Sunaonaa", he insisted.
As she looked at the stars,her voice trailed off into a whisper, her eyes alight "Aise nhi aati, shayari bolne k liye kuch hona chahiye na (Shayari doesn't just come to me; it needs inspiration)," she teased, her gaze locked with his.
Murtasim's heart raced as he drew her hand closer, pressing it against the steady thump of his heartbeat. "Mai aisa karta hu toh kuch hota hai? (Does this stir something within you)", he asked, his voice a low rumble.
She feigned indifference, her head tilting in denial, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, curling into a reluctant smile. "Kuch nhi hota (Nothing)," she whispered, yet her eyes danced with unspoken words.
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and cupped her face gently. "Ab? (And now)" he probed, his thumb tracing the softness of her cheek.
The heat from his palm seared through her, yet she shook her head once more. "Haath hi toh hai, kuch hota hai? (It's just a hand; can it truly move the heart)," she challenged, her voice barely above a breath.
