Mirage.

I can't ever be in love with you.

I have heard of tripping over summer smiles and bluer skies. And, I remember being a part of the sunshine seeping happiness, optimizing reasons to fit into the reasons which transpire such optimism. It has been a long time, longer nights still and I have stopped searching for brightness to make the dull delhi skyline a bit better. I have learnt to appreciate the city and how the birds here do not ask for much when they fly repeatedly in repetitive circles, and my longing comes to a full circle with their last flight. I suppose I will learn to appreciate the smog and the crowd and the busy quick responses which coerce my senses to become more alert. Perhaps, this city will turn my gaze an acquisitive one too where I would finally try to achieve with unbridled ambition, and find refuge in the fulfilment. Atleast, material is one kind of fulfilment too. But, I know better. I will never find fulfilment in fulfilment itself unless it is unconditional and unrepentant and abstract in itself so that it can never be devalued. I might change my perspective about this city. But, it won't change me. I might fall in love with the city, but not with your promises of being the cause behind such a change of affection. Affection is hard fought and I am not ready to give you enough credit for making me look forward to darker city lights, and unslept dawns.

I can't ever be in love with you.