Yash Soni

Tujhse Naraaz Nahi Zindagi is a landmine of life’s wisdom. Despite being tapped into countless number of times, it still has more to offer.  Its layered texture is without the overbearing appendages of pretence. No wonder it is wielded by the pen of Gulzar Saab, one of country’s most aware and prominent literary voices. In its own right this summons life to a center table. And then submits to it. Ensues an engaging conversation that I’ve never had the courage to move away from. For it has often felt a bit too personal when pain is made to sound like a due to be paid. In lieu of life’s grand moments. But isn’t that true? Even without the poetic justice. Come to think of it, don’t we always carry the pain like a tagged baggage? How terribly independent though are our joys, squared up only by infrequent bouts of nostalgia. Barely anybody has spoken about adversity with such poignancy. Life’s hard questions are not innocent whims but Gulzar Saab, a stellar wordsmith, romanticizes pain with

Walks up to the stage, the audience clap. Picks up the mic and starts my set, "Why do we fall?" A loud cheer from the audience. I smiled at them, "I would like to share my story with you. We'll get back to comedy after this, okay? So, a few years back I was sitting in my room, all time books in front of me. I had board exam the next day. I had a breakup the last night. I was shattered. I knew, I was going to fail the exam. I cursed myself for everything. I was at my all-time low." "Some of you might be judging me already, but trust me guys, I was so stupid back then. There was just one question in my mind; Why do we fall? Why do we fall when we know that it's a trap? My grades fell very badly too; I was an above average student until this." "I was a 17-year-old, confused teenager. While all my friends were busy studying, I was trying to figure out life. I wrote the exam next day. Fortunately, I did not fail. I later realized life is simple. We

When I had completed my diploma, my parents made me join a degree college though I was bad in academics. They believed coaching would help improve my grades. The first week of the 6th Semester, my gaze turned towards this girl, and I continued to look at her for a while before I introduced myself to the teacher. Being from an all-boys school, this Engineering college was like a cheat code. But because I was from an all-boys school, I didn't know how to talk to a girl. The guys from class talking to them so effortless, and I was just brainstorming conversation starters in my head. One day, I was the first to solve the problem. That kinda grabbed everyone's attention, and I sat there giving awkward smiles. She smiled at me too, and man, that smile! I was daydreaming about going on brunches with her. Two months passed by and we hadn't spoken anything other than subjects, college, and teachers. It was our mutual friend's birthday, and we all bunked class and went to McDonal

"I've got a long day ahead," he sighed. He checked her last seen. It hadn't changed since yesterday. "Argh!" He sat upright in his bed, pulled his not so long hair and buried his face in the pillow. It was going to be a long, dark, night. Her phone was not reachable; her best friends were not her best friends anymore. Her parents stopped answering his calls long ago. He panicked, he prayed, he hoped that she was safe. His heart beat rhymed with the only other sound, his ticking bed side alarm, set at 5:00 AM. Staring into the void of the night with sudden flashes of her blurry images, he sat in silence. 3:47 AM; His phone screen flashes with her name. Grabs it immediately, "Hello?" "Hello, I'm sorry! Please let me explain..." "Are you okay?" he asked, curiously. "No no, I am totally fine. My phone just died & I couldn't find a charger. I crashed at a colleague's place and left my phone there; I'm sorry..

What do you do when your best friend is crying? There are a few persons whom you never wish to see with tears in their eyes. I attended college as usual. It was a regular Saturday afternoon; the cultural activities were in full swing. More deafening cheers accompanied loud music from the auditorium. I kept calling her from half an hour; she did not answer. She was nowhere to be seen too. I inquired few of our mutual friends if they had seen her around. "She is always with you," said one. "Heard you guys fought," giggled another. "What rubbish ya! They're best friends, they wouldn't have fought," argued a third. I smiled and left the place, still searching. There she was sitting in a corner, engaged busily on her phone. This pissed me off. I walked up to her and said, "Answer your phone." She looked up; her eyes were teary and red. "You crying?" I asked in disbelief. "No," she said. Her voice was thick. "Is it beca

"Look at your nails!" she complained. "How the fuck am I supposed to eat Biryani with a spoon?" I expressed my displeasure. "Stop yelling at me," she demanded. We ate in silence and stood up to leave. She wrapped her arm around mine. I twitched. I pulled my hand away. "You hardly spend time with me these days, and now you're pissed off because I whined about your curry filled nails?" she grumbled. (When I first took up this job, I wondered what it felt like to go on dates during the day. Not that I've never been on dates during the day but getting off the night shift at 5 am on a Saturday morning and being date-ready wasn't my thing.) "I am busy with work on most days, be happy I am at least doing this," I yawned. "I am concerned about your health. You can easily find better jobs," she suggested. I didn't reply. I bought two tickets to Bandra and found a place to sit on the ever-bustling Andheri station. (We us

16.06.15 I'm not one of those who can manage to maintain their diary every night, but today is special. Thanks to A common friend, she convinced me to meet her second best friend (like she termed it when she saw my look). Well, it was her who introduced us, but it was us who had the conversation, a conversation I could never imagine myself in, especially with someone I had just met. I wish I could write the whole talk, but it's too much after a long break I took. To summarize- how it's so difficult to find Biryani without Elaichi, experiences with lizards and cockroaches, weird encounters with aunties in trains, blah blah. I also had a delicious Vadapav, but surprisingly now, I have a faint memory of it. All I remember was, the scooty ride back home, I was smiling. Today is the day; I met Ashini. 17.06.15 Now when I think of it, it's strange, how a foodie doesn't remember the taste a Vadapav, how an introvert decided to meet a stranger and melt in her presence. She

My ring tone dragged me out of sleep. Squinting, I try to see past the burning brightness of my phone. As my tired brain tried to make out the ten digits, I was mentally cursing the person who'd call me this late at night. "Hello," I said, rubbing my eyes. "Hey, did I wake you?" asked a husky voice. I immediately jolted up, not because of its deep tone, but because I knew it all too well. It was the voice with whom I'd spent hours on the phone. It was her voice. "I know it's late. But are you free?" she asked. "Uh..uh.. yeah sure," I stammered. It had been months since we'd spoken. Apparently, exes can't be friends. "I am aware it's been long, but I need to talk to you," she said. Those words immediately brought a smile to my face. Had she been thinking about me? The butterflies came back to life in my stomach. "I know it's selfish of me to talk to you about this, but I didn't know who else to go.&qu

Another rainy day, I was sitting by the window, reading my book, when I heard the knock. I never expected it would be her, at least not right now. "Can I come in?" She asked, and I just nodded. I got her a towel and asked her if she needed a coffee. "Beautiful rainy day, I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee" she smiles. I get her coffee. As I hear her sip, talking to me, I keep looking at her, thinking about all those questions I have been waiting to ask, two years now. Did you miss me? At least initially? Did the other men tell you that you looked good in blue like I did? Did you actually share your ice cream with them, like your Instagram shows? Did you miss the special Maggi I used to make? Did you miss me calling you by your nickname? Do you remember how I used to be while ordering food, all excited? C'mon, you missed that at least. You remember those gifts you got me, that umbrella, on my birthday? I hated the rains always. You loved them. People said opposi

The cold, grey morning of December that you first saw me, I was laden with three layers of unimpressive wool and a silly monkey cap. Yet, you smiled at me, and strangely, it felt more comforting than any sunny spot on that winter day. My cheeks turned red; my soul was perplexed. It felt weird, felt different, felt right. 'Ajeeb daastaan hai yeh, kaha shuru kaha khatam...' You kissed a boy and told me. That made me kiss a girl and tell you. Not exactly the maturest thing to do, but you were clueless and me, young, dumb, and chaotic. What were we supposed to be? Where do we go from there? 'Yeh manzilein hai kaun si, na wo samajh sake na hum...' A long aisle lined with red roses, you on the opposite end with a sparkly ring, the boy who wears fancy leather jackets and no socks on cold winter mornings walking down it and me, on the sidelines, watching. I couldn't interpret my emotions. But then again, when were they ever clear? 'Kisi ka pyaar le kar tum, naya jahan b

Do you ever look back at pictures and wonder? What if time had stood still and I could for once take it slow. I could taste your laughter as though it was the last thing that was still real. Something that was still able to make me feel. If I could hold your gaze like a page in a story, I've read over and over again. A page marked like something worth remembering. If I could know what it would be like to have reality without you. My very first memory of a rose was a dried one. I had for so long thought that's how love is supposed to be, outlived, on the verge of death. Only existing in someone else's story. The next memory of a rose was from a fairytale. It lasted for as long as a curse did. I didn't know what difference there was between my two perceptions. Somehow to me, long gone love seemed like a curse reckoning in our dreams, the news of something awful. The most everlasting memory until today is from a blue door, in an abandoned place, a rose placed by a love tha