I Still Remember That Day When You Rejected My Love

I still remember that place, where we met face to face.

The glitter i saw in your eyes, the way you looked at me and smile.

I still remember that time, as i can’t forget those days of my life.

The days when you rejected my love.

The way the wind blows, the way the river flows.

In the same you have leaved me all alone…

The way the heart beats, the way a child speaks.

In the same way you have shattered all my dreams…

But i still remember that time, as i can’t forget those days of my life.

The days when you rejected my love.

I still regret, I still repent, I kill every second myself.

As i lost one of my dear friend…

Someone with whom i was very close, someone with whom i share all my things.

But now that someone is only in my dreams..

As i still remember that time, those days when you rejected my love.

As i can’t forget those days of my life…

I still remember you, I still remember that place.

The dimples you have on your face.

The way you talk, the way you walk.

In the same way i miss you a lot..

I still remember that time, i can’t forget those days of my life.

The days when you rejected my love.. The days when you rejected my love..

I can’t forget that time…I can’t forget that time.

A Princess Sapphire

Love he must even if
the beloved is enemy's daughter
Forgive he does even if
he proves to be the nemesis thereafter

A man of valour and compassion
captured my childhood imagination
He was Prithviraj Chauhan
A hero of everyone's fascination

The kingdom is gone
but the legend grows
Traditions changed
legacy continues

Silky locks, dreamy eyes
an inherent grace;
With a mesmerising smile
she is born to beguile

Makes an impact
wherever she walks
Into a classroom
or a life

She is hip
she is cool
loves to play pool

May not know the rule

One day came the revelation
Not tough to decipher
Awestruck I was to know
Prithviraj was her forebear

In changing times
she is a commoner
At another age would've been
A Princess Sapphire.

Endless Wait

I crossed thousand miles in a day

But can’t seem to cross few meters in years

The eternal distance between us

Am I dreaming?

Or stuck in reality

You burst with joy

As people get closer to you

Some known

Some unknown

While I longingly wait

For my turn to walk the distance

I brave the stormy rain, the burning sun

All filthy tests of nature

But the wait seems endless

Then someone walks through me

I feel pain

Not sure if it is physical

I want to move away

But I cannot

Plead with the passerby

To take me along

No one cares

For the fallen soul

A beautiful girl comes by

I am shaken

To wake up

To reality.

Why Do I Write?

"...As you know, the question we writers are asked most often, the favourite question, is; why do you write? 

I write because I have an innate need to write! I write because I can’t do normal work like other people. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write. I write because I am angry at all of you, angry at everyone. I write because I love sitting in a room all day writing. I write because I can only partake in real life by changing it. I write because I want others, all of us, the whole world, to know what sort of life we lived, and continue to live, in Istanbul, in Turkey. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write because I am afraid of being forgotten. I write because I like the glory and interest that writing brings. I write to be alone. Perhaps I write because I hope to understand why I am so very, very angry at all of you, so very, very angry at everyone. I write because I like to be read. I write because once I have begun a novel, an essay, a page, I want to finish it. I write because everyone expects me to write. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because it is exciting to turn all of life’s beauties and riches into words. I write not to tell a story, but to compose a story. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but – just as in a dream – I can’t quite get there. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy..."

A Year Ago

It’s been a year since
The last time we met
In the precincts of the walls
We both loved

Shook hands
Shared smiles
Sat under the tree
That special cup of coffee

This day, this exact time
We met and parted
Not knowing if we’ll
Ever meet again

Goodbye, Sweetheart

When you came you conquered

The damage you did was irreparable

I ask forgiveness

For I failed to resist you

I forgive you

For your unintentional tyranny

As you leave

Pick up every rubble and go

Let no sign remain

Of your footsteps