Yash Soni

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

 One of favourite tales from 3 years ago :') I still remember that tragically beautiful day when I opened the door to your goofy face. You were ten minutes late, as usual. You were carrying your silly orange umbrella, and your hair was wet from the wild, heavenly rain. I put on my new brown sandals even though I knew we were going to come across numerous dirty puddles. Did I tell you I loved how we braved against the ferocious winds, drenched from head to toe but oh, so happy? I won't ever forget the plate of delicious Maggie we shared & the steaming cups of Coffee, under the tip-tap of the rain on that little roof of that warm place. I won't forget the brown of your eyes eyeing the last bite as you sipped your Coffee and your smile when I let you have it. The bus ride home was strangely comforting as the tune of Hindi love blasted through the damp air. “Lag jaa gale ke phir yeh haseen raat ho na ho..." I did not hug you, never had before, but trust me, I really wa

Kahin To Hogi Wo tiptoes into my world, its arrival not adorned with accompaniments. It finds its way in like it was meant to belong here. Long before it talks about a parallel world, I find myself levitating. Summer of 2008, I was a teenager when I first heard this song. Yet nothing seems to have changed in how I, even today, feel about it. I sometimes wonder if that’s a good thing. Evolution must mean that our perception of things change, right? But what do you do when you find yourself at the same juncture as you did all those years ago? Yet that is not the reason why this song has stuck with me for so long. All it took was just this one word to sound the way it did. This one word for which I haven’t yet found a more suitable cousin in another language. This one word that shadows everything else that is going on in the by-lanes. This one word that I make room for almost instantly. This one word - khafa. Jaane na kahan wo duniya hai jaane na wo hai bhi ya nahi jahan meri zindagi mujh

You always had your coffee black, and I always liked mine with full fat and loads of sugar and caramel. That's how different we were, right? As different as our coffees. *sighs* Remember how you always told me at the beginning that I'd eventually start hating you, but I laughed it off then, considering it as some sarcasm you always preferred? Somewhere I knew, it wasn't a joke then, and it surely isn't one now. I always knew we wouldn't last. But a part of me always wanted to take that chance even if there was the minutest possibility of it being true. That's just how I was, right? Dreamy, Optimistic or maybe just in Love? But oh girl, what a ride it was! I hadn't experienced myself like this before. I hadn't smiled this way before. I hadn't cried this way before. It was all so surreal and addictive. So addictive that remembering it even now takes my breath away-Exactly how it felt whenever you touched me. It was magical you know. Everytime your hand

1 AM Arijit is crooning ‘Bedard thi, zindagi, bedard hai..’ as I take a drag and smile at the irony of Kamil’s lyrics. "Rahman and Kamil are the perfect combos, Yash, and they always get me high!" You used to tell me, and I often wondered how you’d feel if I said to you that I was high on you. 2 AM I realize it’s been eight months since we last talked. Honestly, the passing time hasn’t been that difficult. Most days are perfectly normal. Good, even. But every once in a while, comes a day that is the exact opposite. The day I miss you like maybe Rahman misses his Piano or Tendulkar misses his bat. Perhaps this is nostalgia. Or perhaps I am just lonely. I don’t know what this is. I just know that maybe I still love you. 3 AM I am reading our old chats. I sometimes wonder who this guy was. How is he so happy! Goofy pictures, poor jokes, cheesy songs, intense poetry, and, most importantly, that warm feeling of home. Maybe that’s what you were. Home! 4 AM And vulnerability is neve

"Call me foolish, but I still believe in happy endings and fairy tales," I smiled. "Happy endings, fairy tales. It's so ironic, isn't it?" she mocked. "Life taught me to look at the brighter side of things," I countered. "Let's not get into an argument," she stood up to leave. "You're leaving?" I inquire. "My local is at 7:45. It's 7:37 already," she hurried. 7:43 PM; Overcrowded platform I looked around, but couldn't find her amongst the heavy crowd. *Announcement regarding the train* I could hear the faint honking of the local from a distance, people around me became more alert now. The train slowly arrived and halted. Commuters got on and off the train. I kept searching, but in vain. The train starts to move, it picks up speed gradually, and it's gone. Pin drop silence for the next few minutes. "And I woke up," I tell the psychiatrist. "I am sure you can narrate better thrillers,&q

Ever wondered why the world seems to exaggerate romance like it's the best thing that has happened to mankind? Be it the countless movies glorifying the act of falling or being in love with the number of romance writers who make the singles feel almost miserable. There are perhaps thousands of songs about love too. Put the numbers aside and just imagine how many people depend upon this whole idea to earn their livelihood! Maybe love is literally in the air. It's all around us. Sometimes to the extent that it's choking us, all. This beautiful feeling is often accompanied by setbacks, disappointments, challenges, etc. And it's not like 'When the going gets tough, the tough get going.' People who have experienced heartbreaks or have been cheated on or fall out of love never tend to go all out in public. Why? When you were in a relationship, you are proud of your partner, you're happy. You'd post pictures with them, of them, and let the whole world know what

Dear You, My hands tremble as I write this to you because I feel too shy to talk to you directly. Even though I have written so much about you, talking to you directly still gets butterflies in my stomach. You have always had this magical impact on me. It's unreal. But there are still a few things I'd like to talk to you about on this drunken night. Turning you into poetry is probably the stupidest thing I have done. Please don't get me wrong, this is not about whether you deserved it or not. It's just that I have romanticized you as a muse for so long that every other person I meet now seems so ordinary and worthless. I keep finding pieces of you in others. Someone smiles a bit like you; someone is finicky about timing as you were and so on. But no one is even close to what you have been…and that's so wrong, isn't it? I don't even know if this is real or not. The lines between reality and fiction have blurred in my head to the extent that I keep quest

You still cry about someone who left you for someone else, Who doesn't think of you anymore. It's been a year that he broke your heart. But you still couldn't talk about it; you tremble when someone enquires about it, You little girl, you dared to push someone out of your life whom you loved with all your heart. You didn't give him the chance to destroy you anymore emotionally. You're wise enough to sense that he is not the one for you even if you've loved him for a few years now. You deserve someone who will treat you the way you treat every important person in your life. Someone who will travel half the world just to see your eyes. You deserve someone who loves books as much as you do, Who plays tennis as much you do, Who will be ready to travel 20 kms at 1 am to drink masala chai with you. You deserve someone who won't give excuses or beg for second chances. You deserve a man who calls you his queen and not a guy who keeps switching betwee