कभी कभी मन करता है
किसी का नाम वादियों में ज़ोर ज़ोर से चीखूं।
फिर याद आता है
उनके तो नाम पे भी मेरा हक़ नहीं।
फिर लगता है कि शहर के शोर में
किसी सुनसान कोने में जाके चीखूं।
फिर याद आता है
मेरी आवाज़ पे भी मेरा हक़ नहीं।
All my life I was told I am different. Sometimes it was appreciated, sometimes not so much. I was told I had energy unparalleled, sometimes appreciated, other times not. Some people tell me how much they admired me, some said I couldn’t be understood. Ever since I was a child, I was told being different is good. In school, I was told different people tend to make better lives for themselves. In movies, I was shown that the protagonist is always, well, different. These notions influenced my perspective towards life, making me crave the feeling of being different. Having said that, I was never treated like I was different, challenging my notion of me being “different”. However, sometime back I realized that I was never treated like I was different because no one wanted me to know how different I am. Every time something nice happened to me, every time I said something exceptional, people tried to normalize how exceptional these things were. That is when I cou...
Waaah....Kyaaa baaat hai....👌🏼👌🏼
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