"Rose of A Thron"
A rose is a flower that never grows alone
Along come thorns pricking the tender bone
Three years back a rose fell in his arms Welcome to find out how they removed the thorns
Has it been only three years? feels like we've known iss pyaar ko kya naam
doon? forever. was there ever a time without jalebi, without scattering
pearls, without suv, payal, mannat ki chabi, without a girl with a crooked
plait and a straight to the heart, funny, snazzy, sanka and a man with the
most exotic eyes and dammit, and a catastrophe in his heart and mind that
just wouldn't let him give a faraq for anything. did time really tick before
rabba ve? iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? was clearly no ordinary soap,
though a full blooded, large, rambling, dhakdhak giving, colourful soap it
certainly was. if the landing in the helicopter and the take of on a scooter
with "hey devi maiyya" sotto voce didn't tell you something out of the
ordinary was coming your way, then the goat certainly did. hai re nand
kissore, what's this about a goat now... well, she was the keeper and
bestower of great wealth, lakshmi ji no less; and she could talk. perhaps
not as much as the girl who loved to hear a man yell "shaat up" but she
could carry on an avid conversation as hp will happily confirm. but before
i digress, and in case you still haven't realised it, we are in a maze.
naturally, this is lucknow, 6 june remember? and it should come as no
surprise that we are now lost in the bhoolbhulaiya. for the last three years
some of us have been lurking here looking for the way out, but not till we
have found the way to the heart of the thorn where a rose blooms. the
more we lose our way, the closer we seem to get. she came out of nowhere
and fell right into his arms, he reached out and caught her and his eyes
settled on her lips... something happened. he kept her in captivity, she
pleaded to be set free, when she said what he couldn't bear to hear, he
snapped her dori... the pearls scattered, she looked back shocked, he glared
at her in raging fury. and strangely enough a string was tied forever...
on it was threaded hamesha.
khushi kumari gupta and arnav singh raizada met, fought, raved, ranted,
hated, faraq nahin padta they averred, they played, hugged, kissed, loved,
loved so much that your saansey ceased, your dhadkan wanted to be one
with someone's, nafrat couldn't take it and turned into mohabbat, and in
the meantime, there was catching and falling, gusts of wind with esoteric
knowledge, rabba vey which somehow never missed a cue, there was of
course villainy and hairan pareshaan, the labyrinth kept growing and
inviting us in... we never thought we should leave, nor did we leave a trail
of bread crumbs to show the light when we wanted to go back out... no, none of that... this was no fairy tale, this was the real sapnon ki duniya, our skd where we shivered and swooned to teri meri prem kahani and it had its own gulaab and kaanta that would hurt, draw blood, seal it with a kiss.. or almost kiss... we believed, yes we had vishwas the stars would show the way when we wanted to leave... that second last one from the left which shines the brightest maybe? but it's been only three years, we are in no rush, the rose is growing here somewhere... right in the heart of her thorn...
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