That day…
when time paused mid-breath,
nd fate unscrolled its ancient scroll
you walked past me like a verse I was yet to read,
unknowingly planting roots in soil I’d long left barren.
That day…
our eyes crossed paths like rivers recognizing each other
from lifetimes ago…. no lightning, no thunder,
just a silence that echoed louder than any hello.
That day…
you spoke… not much, but enough to stir
a forgotten song inside me.
Your voice was not new; it was remembered.
Like da temple bell’s chime at dawn,
it felt like home I never knew I missed.
That day…
we laughed, hesitantly, like rain meeting parched land.
nd I, a skeptic of this syllabus called destiny,
surrendered to a chapter I didn’t plan to write.
That day…
you called me for da first time,
and I pretended it was casual !!!
but my heartbeat betrayed da script...
It raced like Krishna's chariot on Kurukshetra’s edge,
knowing a war of emotions had already begun!!!
That day…
your texts felt like mantras… small, sacred,
capable of silencing storms.
Who knew pixels on a screen
could feel warmer than touch?
That day…
we became friends - no,
we remembered that we were friends,
from some forgotten yuga
when Draupadi wept nd Krishna bled,
nd promises were not spoken
but soul-carved.
That day…
we fought. Words became arrows.
Eyes turned away,
nd my world… dimmed.
But like da Ganga always finds her way,
so did we - back to each other.
Bcz what’s meant,
was never meant to break.
That day…
we realized this bond isn’t made of time.
It is carved in cosmic dust,
where gods whisper tales of pairs like us
not just friends in common language,
but saanjhe rooh ke safar-saathi.
That day…
you held space for me.
Without touching, you touched.
Without asking, you knew.
Without promises, you stayed.
And today…
as college gates threaten closure,
nd corridors echo with last bell rings,
I do not mourn da ending
for how can one grieve a story
that never needed a beginning?
We….
are not a just campus tale.
We are da hidden verse
between Krishna’s flute nd Draupadi’s silence.
We are not goodbye.
We are always.
So, let da walls fade,
let da uniforms fold,
let routines dissolve
but us,
don’t you dare call this an ending.
Bcz no matter da cities,
no matter da silence,
some friendships are written
in Vedic ink nd starlight,
meant to outlive calendars
and remain…
Eternal,
Unclicked,
But never unloved.
By: - Kanishk
