Reshma - Raw Silk

Reshma. A voice that was pain personified. But, I listened to her even when I was happy; the sort of happiness that depended on a few drops of water, rather than a cup brimming over.

Reshma. A voice that spread like a summer night. Clear enough to be able to see the stars and humid enough to cause beads of perspiration.

Reshma. A voice that seemed to come from a distance. And then inched closer, closer, closer to grasp you in your own embrace.

Reshma. A voice that did not tinkle like glass, but was the sound of shards cracking underfoot.

Reshma. A scar to always remind of a wound.


To read: Cool desert

To listen: Goriye main jaana pardes

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