Faraaz Kazi Famous Quotes
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There is no home as comfortable as your father's arms and no bed as soft as your mother's lap.
Isolation, for him, had become a basic sine qua non for existence and loneliness, his sole companion like a perfectly faithful twin. He was someone for whom even happiness would cry for, mourning the death of his sentiments and murdering the existence of his soul.
What was he? A mere human, stuck between the rungs of blended adolescence and nascent adulthood. What power did he command over the mysterious forces of love? Which sword could shatter the impenetrable armour of desire?
reading is a private activity. A book fits a reader like tailored clothing.
How strange it is that the house of these hedonic stalwarts is filled with all the luxuries of life, right from plasma televisions to Swiss bank cheque books. So how will they notice the tonnes of food grains rotting in the northern belt?
Night is when the whispers of the past become the echoes of the present.
She stares at it for several moments before taking it out from underneath the plastic film that covers it. Then she holds it with the affection of a mother for her new-born child, tender and loving; Preeti's eyes soften briefly just for that moment. The lava of hurt makes way into her throat, setting ablaze all that she has held within. As memories meet sentience, the apartment echoes with her muffled cries. The photograph, a silent spectator, drenches in her grief as the tears start their descent.
Fear is the most potent weapon.
Whenever the cloud of ego threatens to engulf me, I remind myself of my roots. It helps keeping my feet on the ground.
Love never comes with a brochure of rules and regulations, a prospectus with guides of what is acceptable and what is abominable. It's a standard to follow your heart, and that's what I did and if doing that hurt you, then I'm sorry ... sorry for coming in your life and wasting your time, for causing you an anguish so great that you could not bear the sight of me. Today, I am proud to stand up and honour myself and proclaim to the world ... yes, I loved someone more than myself. I loved someone truly, madly, deeply!
I wonder if I could take back every 'I love you' ever said to you, would I do it?
Despite wearing a Rolex, I have no time.
The grip of her eyes is so hard that he can barely breathe. She entices him to crash into her and explore her depths. But he is already soaked in different waters.
Perhaps that is the real surprise of love; it exists, but one may not attribute causes and effects to it. The existence may appear to be a mere fallacy to the minds of some, and by the time they realise what hit them, they would already be down and dead.
When you love someone, you become immune to the hurt they cause you. You don't love hoping to get something in return, you love because you have to. In its extreme form, it is a need to give, not a need to get.
The growth of my love story had been gradual but my success had always existed and both coupled together formed a deadly combination that was detrimental to our love. I wanted people to love me. She wanted them to leave her alone.
That night it did not rain as much in the sky as it did in his heart.
The flush on her pale cheeks was like the blush of sunset on snow.
Walking alone is not difficult but when we have walked a mile worth a thousand years with someone then coming back alone is what is difficult.
When she started with the first empty canvas, she didn't know what she was going to paint, she just let her paint brushes glide and they religiously followed the trajectory of her angst; the choice of colours and the strokes, they were all a reflection of what was going through her mind. The reds were the embers within her that refused to die. The blues were the rare instances when she was spent by her grief. The blacks were her moments of absolute weakness, the colour of the bottomless pit within her that she had plunged into, falling through and through.
The brush strokes moved around blank canvases like snakes with fangs of elixir that filled her scars with a deluge of hope and a gale of faith in herself. The colours spoke to her in whispers, narrating their own tale while she poured out hers to them. They allowed her to channel her life through them. They listened. They cared. They laughed. They cried. They reassured her that there was life waiting ahead, staring at her past, urging her forward with eager arms. And Preeti rushed into them with her brush in hand that rose along with her and fell along with her.
I think part of the reason why we hold so tight is because we fear something so great won't happen twice.
It was as if he had known her for a long, long time and before he knew her, he knew nothing because he felt he had not existed then, life had been absent in his breaths.
Some people are going to leave, but that's not the end of your story. That's the end of their part in your story.
Her melodious laughter sounded like the distant tinkling of soft bells and he stored the sound in her temple- his heart.
She turned around to look at me with her enchanting gaze that further pierced my heart; a look I would never forget and I would retain till perpetuity and think of it always whenever she came to my mind. And that is not going to be a few times, if my heart is to have its way.
People don't change, they come closer and closer to who they really are.
Life can be a real bitch at times and force us to destroy what we created. The important thing is to believe in what we created, to believe in the magic of the moment when we found those people in our lives, keep fighting until life bows down to our wishes and lets them be a part of our existence.
A smile doesn't always stand for a perfect life.
Today many of these selfish politicians are preying on the nation itself – (belching corruption and farting discontent!)
Her features were dainty, her small slender wrists climbed up to become the delicate shoulders that beckoned him. Her skin was like peach-tinted cream and he need not have touched her to experience the melting softness of her body. Her perfectly oval face was austere and her manner a little haughty. Her expressions had delicacy as well as a particular strength that did not abate her femininity. It seemed that the world had stopped. Her voice sounded like a melody and she looked like a dream, an illusion, up close and personal.
Silence has its own language and in that silence he found words within himself; words for her, words for him and words for them.
Remember, someone, somewhere in some corner of this somewhat big world, is out there crying if you're unhappy and is happy if you are! And you know who that someone is!
I could take back those moments that snatched you away from me or maybe just wipe away those ten minutes when you came to me for the first time and I looked into your eyes to realise what love is.
Envy is a much natural byproduct when your childhood isn't the way it is supposed to be
Competition was as much as respecting your opponent's work as introspecting on your own.
She told me her love was like the sky. I thought she was referring to its vastness.
Much later, I realised that the sky was hollow... just like her heart!
My trust in you was like the small child's; who, when thrown in the air, expects to be caught, but you dropped me down, and not a moan escaped my lips.
Not watching the path where his legs took him, he walked on because he knew he had to walk ahead, leaving his past behind.
All the good times evaporated like naphtha, the moment some air of misconceptions touched it.
Have you ever lost someone close to you? Someone who is at the core of your universe, the hero of all your stories...when that happens, it isn't just the loss of one life, it's the loss of two lives - one who found another world, perhaps...and one who is left behind.
Sometimes we don't have a choice in where we come from, but we can definitely choose where we go from there.
Some days you miss them so much you'd jump off the roof of their office building just to catch a glimpse of them on the way down.
I eyed her like a thirsty traveler in the desert looks at a pail of water.
A minute teaches me sixty different ways to think about you.
Lie beside me, oh my beloved! For thy thorns are more pleasurable than the petals of the world.
Hold me in thy arms of hope, for the truth of separation can rest tonight.
The tears of my eyes watered your heart but failed to evoke a response from the barren grounds of what beats in you. They will still come and I will welcome them because they contain you.
If I had a choice, I wouldn't be here ... I wouldn't be anywhere.
In that one moment, I wrapped a thousand others. A lifetime of joy, sorrow, laughter, frowns, smiles, tears ... life!
Beauty is the only human aspect which cannot be captured on any canvas howsoever hard an artist tries. At the most, the undaunted artist can replicate the beauty on paper but what is a replica in comparison to the original! The humbling resemblance can only be respected, not truly adored.
Beauty cannot be imprisoned in the lens of a camera. The images of beauty are a moment of its essence. Beauty cannot be displayed to evoke pleasure for all on a cinema screen. Those are just its imprints, mere illusions of its existence. Beauty cannot be described by words; it cannot be written or read about. There are no suitable words in all the languages of the world, ancient or modern to hold it between a paper and a pen or a script and an eye. Beauty can only be experienced from far, its delightful aroma can only be tasted through one's eyes and its pleasurable sight can only be felt from the soul.
Beauty can only be best described at its origin through a befuddling silence, the kind that leaves one almost on the verge of a pleasurable death, just because one chooses beauty over life. There is nothing in this world to hold something so pure, so divine except a loving heart. And it is the only manner through which love recognises love; the language of love has no alphabet, no words.
It was strange even after suffering from fate, a person in love would choose the same fate over his life.
Trust is the base for all relations. If it breaks, then it's not easy to rejoin. It's very easy to say 'I don't trust you', but the pain these words cause is immense.
Who would have listened to his tales of woe when his love was the flickering lamp over his own decaying tomb?
An obstreperous urge seized him. he desperately wanted to hold on to her, to support his slipping heart, and when it slipped away, he realized she had gone away, incarcerating herself in his thought with her smile and unblemished innocence.
He got up slowly, not bothering to curse himself for forgetting the stop where he had to disembark. He was not used to leaving things behind; he wondered how the bus stop escaped.
One of the symptoms of having a broken-heart is the fact that even ghosts will give up on the hope of scaring you as you have already lived through your worst fear.
I fell, she laughed. I fell hard, she laughed harder. Seeing that I kept falling till I fell in love.
He took the last seat, as usual, a subtle reminder of what he was and what he had become.
Love lies in those unsent drafts in your mailbox. Sometimes you wonder whether things would have been different if you'd clicked 'Send'.
He did not have anything on him except her thoughts, except the good times he had once shared and the bad times he so desperately wanted to forget.
If you've stayed here then Mumbai is like that first love of your life you can never get over. You will be with many after her but that first one is simply unforgettable!
Lying on her cushiony lap, I gaze into the upside down world. I see my dreams in her eyes.
As he turns around and her eyes meet his, she lets go off the breath that she had been holding back. All the words she had practised to say when the moment arrived, dissolve at the tip of her tongue. All the things she wanted him to know escape her in the thick blanket of nostalgia that wraps itself around her.
Beneath her curls, I forget the world,
With a mere gaze she raises my hopes of gold.
Love is as much in her heart as in mine,
But she doesn't say it, her punishment so divine.
Politics is clearly a not so happening topic in our young blood. I could clearly see many students yawning. Some might have been discussing the new Shakira video amongst themselves, the one shown on MTV these days. Bloody donkeys, if it was a porno movie featuring an interracial orgy, their eyes might have ogled out and ears might have become sensitive to the oohs and aahs but not for causes of the nation. Hrmpf ... youth power indeed!
To have someone understand your mind is a different kind of intimacy altogether.
He noticed that she threw away the crumbled bus ticket on the street as soon as she got down. He picked it up and put it in his pocket along with his own a memorabilia of their first date together, just like a strand of her hair he would find later on his shirt and the broken pen cap that she would go on to search in the laboratory and so many other such small things which he would collect.
Why crawl like a caterpillar when you have the wings to be a butterfly?
Eye contact is way more intimate than words will ever be.
Seeing her cry still made me feel the same way it did earlier.
I wanted to wash away our past misgivings in those tears that would run from our eyes and weave a new start by folding her in my arms.
I wanted to, but I did not!
She flooded my thoughts. I drowned in peace.
The skies bend, the time stops, the lanes move and the fires dance,
It can mean only one thing that I am with you.
You are enigmatic yet so beautiful that I have lost my sense,
You are as immaculate as the unadulterated morning dew
And your beauty leaves me in a mystified trance.
I do not foresee what you and I will be
But I promise to be with you till the rocks keep meeting the sea.
If not towards his case to give him glimpses of what could be a happy future, it stayed back at least to warrant her happiness, stayed back with the pain that strangely didn't hurt anymore.
It was like watching a movie being played on the blank screen of his mind; the only difference was that he did not get bored, no matter how many times he watched it.
In every laugh, he hears her, in every tear, he sees her. Not a mere reflection, the complete 'her'.
He stopped his act to take a snapshot of that instant he would so treasure- her delightful laughter that could make him do anything, anything at all, in the world and beyond!
And it worries me how misunderstandings exist because people would rather have a hole in their heart than to talk their issues out.
No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.
If a man cries in front of you, it doesn't mean he's weak. It means that he trusts you enough to let his guard down.
There was only one four-lettered word having precedence over life itself and it was LOVE.
There is beauty within each one of us. It just takes the right person to spot it.
All they do is warm their seats for their long tenures and eventually even their seats get dilapidated with the amount of money they hog in illegally and the only way it comes out is by tilting their huge pot-bellied frames to one side and emitting poisonous gases that not only depreciate their beloved seats but also the nation as a whole and then they shout 'Global Warming.' Hallelujah!
Her receding laughter sounded so comforting, so alluring to my senses that I could hardly control myself from reaching out to her and telling her what I felt there and then!
But when nothing in your life happens in a positive frame, it is difficult to think positively and hope for the best.
Love me, even if it's a lie. Leave me yet never say goodbye.