The love maybe lost, but its memories are not — PART 1

"Bin tere... bin tere... bin tere... koi khalish hai hawaon mein bin tere... "

the tune beat on her eardrums—once, twice, thrice and more. 

Not that she was fast asleep. But that she hadn't slept. And she felt like hearing it on and on, again and again. In her mind flipping pages of the sweetest yet the most hurting set of memories.

An alarm tune — what is it supposed to do? Wake you up from sleep? 

But for eyes that haven't seen peaceful sleep since long, for ears that still yearn to hear those whispers that would send shivers down the spine, for senses that fail to let go of that aura of pure love that would once make her feel luckier and prettier every single day, this alarm was nothing more than a fresh revival of memories she 'should' let go off, but couldn't. Just couldn't. She could relate to it more than anything else and it was painful. Very painful. Which is why it was her morning alarm tune. Sad songs, the more you can relate with them, the more they remind you of your pain, bringing every bit of your soul to tears. Yet, you love them even more. It was the first thing she did in the day. And this way, pain was what her days had been starting with. For the last one year.

Yes, one year. It has been a year now. And she still clings to those memories as tightly as possible. Like she won't let them go. Never. The jokes they shared, the fun they poked, the care and the affection, the times she would sulk and he would play the joker, all of it had re-played in front of her eyes every single morning. She laughed. And she cried. She laughed on all that had been so dream-like beautiful. She cried 'coz it was indeed all dreams now.

Those were her mornings. Mornings after half sleepless nights, the rest half trying to relive those moments. The best thing about dreams is that they can give you joys you otherwise may only yearn for, in real. 

And this morning was no different. Yet again she had woken up to what reminded her how hurt she was. Yet again she had imagined those magical moments that still remain the happiest moments of her life, but a thing of past. Yet again she had woken up to sit still, stunned, still unable to believe, what happened did actually happen. Yet again she had asked her god, "WHY?"

Yet again every tear that her tired eyes dropped, trickling down her now-pale cheeks, shouted out to her conscience, seeking answers to questions that had haunted her since the last one year.

Yet again she had wondered in absolute awe, "I am stuck. He has moved on. How?"

Yet again it was a morning no different. Yet again, everything was yet again. 


PART 2 HERE

By,