Yash Soni

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...

Baksha gunaho ko Sun ke duwao ko Rabba pyaar hai Tune sab ko hi de diya… ...writes lyricist Irshad Kamil. And that is truly the premise from where all the strength, all the rebellion in this song stems from – just a simple belief that no matter what, love is for everyone, that it exists for everybody. The heart, naive, gives into this at once acceding to its own confirmation bias. So when it is wronged, all hell breaks loose. And "Aaj Din Chadheya" carries the baggage of that. Of all the times a prayer wasn’t heard. That is why the plea that sounds insistent at best turns defiant at once. It speaks to God directly asking for some accountability, a fair justification? The challenge in its voice – almost battle ready – doesn’t worry about how it sounds. Yet, I am certain "Aaj Din Chadheya" is a conversation in private, probably in the dark of the night too but most likely on paper. For it is impressively potent. Its protest is so powerful, it ropes you in. Its purpose...

"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,...

It was an oddly rainy day, I tore the last page from my book, made a paper boat scribbled my name on it and watched as it found its way slowly yet steadily towards yours. In a moment we were laughing. The trees rustled as if, it was laughing at the fate of us. You won't remember my sound and I'll forget the way my name stayed at the rim of your lips holding onto its life. The endless messages that passed will settle itself onto the distance between us like a wandering searching for a home. The love we once had will become a tourist home, you will wonder why you could never make anyone stay and I will think about all the ways why I can't leave. The photograph of ours will hide amongst the bookshelf, maybe you will look at it, and feel the sun pouring and its warmth in our smiles and the forever locked in our breaths and a love that stayed within our hearts. Years from now the butterflies in your stomach won't flutter as it used to when someone calls my name and the firef...

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...

The first week of college; New place, new faces, awkward first conversations, silent observations. We were asked to register for something called 'The most promising fresher.' Our seniors judged us on our communication skills and talent. In the first round of the screening process, I was asked to give a creative introduction about myself followed by a talent round. A lot of people sang, danced and even beatboxed. I wasn't that kind of a person who'd enter a room and boom their greetings. I finished my short intro. "What's your talent?" someone from the judges asked. "I can write," I replied. They didn't seem impressed. I was interrupted, "Can you narrate a story?" "My stories are kind of big, but I'll try to be brief..." I was interrupted again, "We don't have much time, do you have any other talents?" "No," I replied. "Thank you. Who's next?" I felt dejected. The list of students...