Arooj Aftab’s cover of Hafeez Hoshiarpuri’s Mohabbat Karne Wale Kam Na Honge is seven minutes and forty one seconds long.

You left me four months and three days ago.

For the first ninety days, coming across anything that you touched, liked, talked about or even knew of made my heart weigh about thirty three kilos.

The worst part was, everything I owned, liked, talked about or even knew of

I had shared with you.

Everything I loved, I loved through you.

Every song, every poem and shayari, every story, every movie.

Everything was tainted.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was nothing,

Nothing but a reminder of what was and what could have been.

But the thing with time is, it heals.

One month three days ago I played Arooj Aftab’s Mohabbat for the first time since you happened because the green shirt I stole from you no longer made my heart feel like thirty three kilos.

We kissed to that song.

Do you remember? I do.

I remember the song and the lyrics and the music and the pauses. I remember you and your lips and your cold fingertips.

Eleven seconds in and my heart felt like twenty kilos.

Hey siri, play chaiyya chaiyya.

Next day, at thirty seven seconds my heart was twenty one kilos.

Hey siri, play such keh raha hai.

The next week, I was at about a minute. Twenty four or maybe twenty five kilos.

Hey siri, play biba sada dil mod de.

Around the thirty day mark, I was nearing six minutes and my heart was about fifteen kilos still.

Hey siri, play saadgi.

Today, one month and four days later, I finally managed till seven minutes. Though the heart no longer swells up, its still beats a lot faster and louder.

Hey siri, play jitne bhi zakhm hai mere dil par.

log kaanton se bachke chalte hain
humne phoolon se zakhm khaye hain
tum toh gairon ki baat karte ho
humne apne bhi aazmayein hain

I am not bitter that you left, or at least I am trying not to be.

I am writing this to you in hopes that you have already made it through these god forsaken seven minutes and forty one seconds without as much trouble

I am writing this to you in hopes that you won’t mind knowing that I am only forty one seconds away from washing that kiss away.

I hope you are well and healed.

I hope you are able to listen to songs and read poetry and watch movies without your heart feeling like its made of marble.

I hope you are happy.

And I hope you know,

mohabbat karne wale kam na honge
teri mehfil mein lekin hum na honge.