The world lies invisible beyond the mist. Early morning idleness has to be thrown away with the rest of overnight garbage and quickly. The invisible world calls. Yet, i dont want to go and face all that is there to fight. Can i stay indoors and escape the rioting colours and be pure?

A thousand or so desires have died in me like the plague infested people of Paris. And yet, there are born new ones. Hope never dies and i guess it never will. But what about the tired limbs, the exhausted thoughts, the dry tears?

Why are we all so sad? Why do we seem to end up with all these depressing thoughts at the end of the day or when alone?

Yet, we dream on…

Hazaron khwahishein aisi ke har khwahish pe dum nikle,

Bahut nikle mere armaan lekin jo bhi nikle bahut kam nikle….