Is this my fault, if I lose myself in you?
Haan, main gumsum hoon
In raahon ki tarah
Love is a hummingbird that comes flying with an onslaught of hopes but it is rarely easy to catch. In my sixteen years of significant individual footprints in this thriving blue dot, my heart has witnessed almost all kinds of intoxicated love.
Tere khwabon me
Teri khwaisho me chhupa
Na jaane kyun
Hai ye roz ka silsila
Tu rooh ki daastan
The first kind was a kid getting lost in a supermarket, a kite losing itself in the sky, a reckless traveller visiting different corners of the celestial balloon without any maps. I fell in love with a boy who wrote me a letter but his handwriting didn't kiss the paper, which is to say, a lover who brimmed my stomach with butterflies but never let them flutter with his love.
The first kind, the bunking classes to have that one eye glance kind, the words rolling like a stone only in the tongues kind, the stupid conspiracy theories of your middle school friends kind, the getting caught by your chemistry teacher kind.
Seemingly, there's always an ending in the beginning of first loves; because aren't they always tend to break our tender hearts? But I believe, that's the beauty of first loves, they always find home in the lasts of sentences.
So this song is a warning, it tells you that the first time you'll fall in love, welcome it with open arms but also be prepared to bid a goodbye when it leaves. It's a lesson under the shrewd minds of prediction, but still an elixir drink.
Teri zulfon ki ye nami
Teri aankhon ka ye nashaa
Yahaan kho bhi jaun toh mai
Kya kasoor hai mera?
The second story was a teen discovering the paradoxical comfort in love lining her sleeves. This love wide opens the door, straighten the curtains, put the lights on, closes the windows and locks the door; for its a room with only the names of you and your lover engraved on the walls. You inscribe kisses in beds, trace endless late night talks, stitch skins with promises, make instagram an art gallery of couple goals, and print calenders with mawkishly mushy anniversaries. But you realize the inexplicable discomfort and suffocation in the room bordering your heart. You get exhausted of watching yourself struggle with the door handle. So you glide open the windows and jump down, splitting the glasses with the reflection of your once upon a time love. This love is a curtain that meets or overlaps hearts in the middle and is drawn back on both sides when open or set free.
Kasoor makes you blush at the thought of letting in hearts, which eventually eroded, but it reminds you that it's okay to unfold them all the same.
Kyun ye afsaane
In lamho me kho gaye
The third was honey— floral, fruity, smoky, woody, spicy, nutty or earthy. It smelt fresh as grass or pungent like aged and rotten cheese. It looked nearly clear as water or dark as molasses. But this love was sensible, a rare find. The kind that drinks your heart, makes it float and swims to save it from sinking. The kind in which you don't mind drowning again and again even if you lose the strings of your breathes, even if the pool of water swallows you entirely. This love will make you glue a series of stratagems to deceive your parents, sneak out of your house and meet the person you love. It turns your body into a globe and let your lover explore every topographies, forest lines, mountain slopes, oceans and landforms.
Hum ghaayal the
In lafzon me kho gaye
The hum anjaane
Ab dil mei tum ho chhupi
It's a voyage with your lover and you keep sailing without peering in navigation maps for ports and harbours. You are made to believe that there's nothing wrong in it, and you fight with every traffickers waving red flags during your venture. Once you reach the destination, you feel like plucking grasses to know the direction of the wind, to tell you if this voyage is going to slash through an iceberg. But you ignore the winds, hesitate to talk to the sailor and words don't fly out of your mouth flapping their wings. The waves run parallel but once they diverge, you already see the boat with fatigue cracks; so you try to reduce them. The waves resonate with your tears and before you realize, you find yourself drowning in yourself. So when the voyage comes to an end, you feel the fatigue cracks in your heart. You spill anger through your poetry and weave happiness with your friends to repair the weathered pieces.
And when the sailor touches your shoreline again with footprints of apologies to take you back on the voyage, you take your time but agree. But this voyage takes an another breath because you aren't the same anymore. So when this voyage finally reaches it's destination, you accept the calamity and let it go. You learn the art of acceptance and letting go. You learn the beauty in things winding off across the hill. You learn how to smell the damp earth after the slanting drops of a heavy shower. And most importantly, you learn how to stop seeking love and let it seek you. Because sometimes, love is pulling the knot open and resting in the fallen rope.
Kasoor makes you smell your toughest breakup and reminds you that it's okay to lose yourself in an overcrowded cafe. It's okay to get your heart broken because there's no greater love without mending the shattered pieces. It's okay to let all things happen to you, love and heartbreaks.
Teri saanson ki raat hai
Tere hothon ki hai subah
Yahaan kho bhi jaun toh mai
Kya kasoor hai mera?
But love is old now. Love blooms flowers on the wrinkles of your heartbreaks. Love is still a traveller, but it comes back home. Love breaks forever into small infinities and threads a sewing needle of moments you spend together with your lover. Love unlocks the door and keeps the windows open to make heartbreaks a little less lonely.
So this song, kasoor, tells you, if the breeze of love rustles your skin, ruffles your lips, disentwines your hair, ripples your cheeks, stirs your insides and flutters your heart, let it waft the fragrance towards you. Let it puff across the lake of your infinities. Keep the key dangling in the breeze, and whisper in the ears of love,
"I hope you enjoy the journey."
Teri zulfon ki ye nami
Teri aankhon ka ye nashaa
Yahaan kho bhi jaun toh mai
Kya kasoor hai mera?
