#koyal

[ipl24]

#MS Dhoni Troll Trollers By Singing 'Bole Jo Koyal' Song In Viral Video | Cricket News #TATAIPL #IPL24

#IPL24 # The cricketing world has once again been captivated by the multifaceted talents of MS Dhoni, as the Chennai Super Kings veteran showcased his singing prowess in a new advertisement that has taken social media by storm. Just days after enthralling fans with his sensational big-hitting display against Delhi Capitals in the IPL 2024, Dhoni has now left his admirers in awe with his flawless…

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#Bole #Cricket #Dhoni #IPL24 #Koyal #News #Singing #Song #TATAIPL #Troll #Trollers #Video #Viral

[lyrics724]

Tumbleweed

[Verse 1] I saw you there In a different place A moment still I can’t erase Moments from darkness I stay by your side You are my light And I am your guide [Chorus] When I’m down, you put your arms around me When you’re down, I’ll do the same You’ll see, you and me And we’ll keep rolling on, rolling on Like the tumbleweed [Verse 2] Honest weakness Or hidden sorrow It will be gone By tomorrow We’re…

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#Koyal

[shyam-kariya]

कभी सौंफ (fennel seeds) खाने के बाद पानी पिया है तुमने

तुमसे बात करने पर मेरे दिल को ऐसी ठंडक मिलती है

Shyam writes

#shyam writes #for you my koochie poochie ku #my bachcha #desi love #desi life #desi tumblr #desiblr #meri kammoji #being desi #desi blr #desi core #desi culture #meri koyal

[mainapnifavouritehoon]

कोयल si Teri boli

Soorat hai kitni bholi 👀🌷

#Bhai you haven't heard my voice #Koyal nahi hehehe #Kajal<3

[lyricssangeet]

काहे कोयल शोर मचाये Kahe Koyal Shor Machaye Lyrics in Hindi

काहे कोयल शोर मचाये Kahe Koyal Shor Machaye Lyrics in Hindi

काहे कोयल शोर मचाये रे मोहे अपना कोई याद आये रे कह कोयल से न गाये रे हो मोहे अपना कोई याद आये रे उसने काहे को नैन पहिराए रे कोई जाके उसे समझाये रे मेरे दिल से जो निकले हाय रे कोई दोष मेरा बतलाये रे मोरे नैनन में नीर भर आये रे मोहे बीते वह दिन याद आये रे मोरे नैनन में नीर भर आये रे मोहे बीते वह दिन याद आये रे हाय आग लगी हिरदय में हो कोई हिरदय की आग भुझाये रे मेरा जीवन पल पल जाए रे रहूँ कब तक आस…

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#Kahe Koyal Shor Machaye #Shamshad Begum #Shaswati

[wearily-confused]

i was tired yesterday but-birds. W o w <3

#like i was looking and there were these pretty birds alllll around #side wale plot mai ek mor tha #and the peacock was looking so pretty in all that green shrubs and stuff #stairs wali window ke bahar se woh pani wala matka dikh rha tha #aur uspe ek aur choti black pretty bird baithi hui thi with morni jaise par #like soo awsm #uske hi side mai niche gali mai chidiyan daane kha rahi thi #aasman mai woh birds itni achi lag rhi thi #like real painting gif #aaj bhi mandir mai koyal etc bol rhe the and it was soo cool #aur chuuze dana chug rhe the #it was alll sooooo coooolllll #💗💗💗 #b i r d s #:D #shtup

[embersariya]

''mai bohot bolti hu na?'' gf 🤝 ''bolo na meri koyal'' bf

#desiblr #desi tumblr #desi love #desi couple

[valkyriesaga-if]

Built a few years after the Collapse, the city of Yggdrasil was meant to be a haven, a refuge. A utopia, where everyone could find their place and be equals.

But that’s the thing with utopias and ideals; they don’t last very long.

Yggdrasil was barely 20 years old when the Magi Council rose above their human brethren, firmly splitting society in two: the magi on one side, who wield privilege like a sword, and the humans on the other, whose only privilege was to stay alive and quiet.

After all, how can you deny Magi what they want, when they are the only thing protecting you from what’s outside the walls?

You’ve been living in the Helheim district for almost as long as you can remember, raised amongst crooks, conmen and criminals all your life. While this hardly seems like ideal conditions to raise a child, it was better than having the Council find out your secret. Helheim was the best place for secrets. You knew it, your mother knew it, everyone in Yggdrasil knew it.

You’re an undeclared Magi. In a city where showing the barest hint of magic can get a child taken away from their parents and chain them forever to the Council of Magi, raising a child under the watching eyes of kingpins, thieves and prostitutes was a shield, an armor. The best protection love could offer.

Every day, you live on the edge of the razor. One wrong move and your life could be upended entirely. But when your mother is on the verge of losing her house, her business, her entire life to Greed, you can’t just sit there and watch it happen.

Being hired to steal the Eyes of The Watcher, the most precious gems in all of Yggdrasil, located right in the heart of the Council Chamber, didn’t seem like such a bad idea, at the time.

Genre

Post apocalyptic, urban fantasy, heist

Content Warning

The story will be 18+ for violence, potential sexual themes, explicit content and gore.

Fully customizable MC: name, gender identity, sexuality, appearance, personality and demeanor

Interact with a varied cast of NPCs

Shape your relationships with your fellow gang members, from lovers to platonic besties, all the while keeping in mind that they are all criminals and liars, just like you.

Experience the Nightmares™

Engage in highly illegal, highly dangerous activities, and maybe some light rebellion and overthrow of authority on the side

Polish your skills such as stealth, combat or knowledge, and discover more about your magic

Spend some time in the luxurious streets of Asgard and other delightful places such as a Helheim fighting ring, the city sewers or a defunct meat factory

Hallucinate?

Pet the cat

The selfish mercenary - Lònan [M, he/him]

Money is the only thing that matters to Lònan. He has made that very clear since the beginning. Obviously, he doesn’t seem to care that much about his own life, otherwise he would have found another way to make a fortune. One that doesn’t involve going into the heart of the enemy territory to steal the most valuable and well guarded artifact in town, for example. Just a thought.

The disgraced Magi - Yugō [M, he/him]

Magi have virtually everything they might want. Money, luxury, and an unending hoard of lackeys to cater to their every need. So you can’t help but wonder what might lead one of them to hide amongst the rats in the dark alleys of Helheim, and Yugo is not inclined to answer your questions.

The unwelcome guest - Halloran [M, he/him]

No one really knows who Halloran is or what he wants, but he seems to keep inviting himself in your dreams, taking great pleasure in playing with you and your sanity. Only he is a cat playing with a mouse, and you can only hope that he won’t eat you whole.

The estranged friend - Mavis [F, she/her]

Back in the time you lived in Midgard West, you and Mavis used to be friends, practically joined by the hip. While she remained as kind and gentle as you remember her, there is a hard edge to her eyes that wasn’t there before.

The mysterious outsider - Koyal [F, she/her]

A courier from outside of town, you’re not sure why she joined your ragtag group of criminals. Calm and quiet, she mostly keeps to herself, but you can’t help but feel her watchful gaze on you every time you have your back turned.

The disembodied voice - Morgane [F, she/her]

You’ve never met her in person, your only contacts with her being over the phone, as she gives instructions to you and the rest of the group. She seems to be the only one in direct relation with the person who hired you for some trivial B&E in the most secure facility in Yggdrasil.

Lònan/Yugō and Koyal/Halloran are potential poly routes.

TBA

This is my first IF and English is not my first language, so feel free to send any constructive criticisms and corrections my way.

This is very early development, so many things are subject to change as i work on the story

Asks are welcome and reblogs appreciated!

#interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #IF #twine #twine game #cyoa #if wip #no demo #wip intro #twine story #twine if #wip #the valkyries saga

[royalsunshinehotel]

Little Star (Monkey Man, 2024)

Author’s Note: I watched Monkey Man twice this past weekend! Here’s a scene between the woman in the Green Dress, and the dog. This fic is dark and sad, but has a hopeful twist. Tara is pronounced Taara here, and it’s the hindi word for Star. Stay tuned for information about my patreon (soon)!

Blood. Blood everywhere, and it was a beautiful thing, and the thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. How far had she fallen from the girl she was, to look at all this destruction in what was left of the kitchen, and see only beauty? 

Sita instinctively picked up the hem of her silky green dress, so it wouldn’t drag on the red tile of the kitchen, as if it mattered now, as if Queenie’s blood hadn’t spattered all over her face when she’d caved her skull in. 

She shuffled forward, slowly, steadily, so as not to slip on her stupid shoes. She’d never minded high heels, she liked the idea of being tall enough to look someone in the eyes, but not now. Not anymore. 

He’d really done it, hadn’t he? A month ago, when he’d taken his first shot at Rana Singh, she knew by the look in his eyes it was only a matter of time. And it was. 

Bobby. 

Another shaky step brought her further to the fucking exit of this cursed place, and she laughed to herself thinking of how she would never come back here. 

She giggled thinking about how hard Queenie had hid the ground, and the dull crunch that her hand made when he’d stolen her thumb. 

It wasn’t funny. Nothing about it would ever be funny, but it sent her forward. There was no other way to go. 

There was a split second, stepping over all of the blood and death, where Sita almost slipped. A moment, where her breath caught and she thought a moment ahead, to when she would have hit the ground. Knowing herself the way she did, she likely would have stayed there. 

But she didn’t. She didn’t. She caught herself, as she always did, and almost winced at the loud clack of her heels on the fatigued pavement. 

The night air was cool, descending like a blanket. When was the last time she’d been outside? She wondered. 

Diwali was in full swing, she could hear it from blocks away. There was a chance she could run into the night and never be seen again. It wasn’t as if her jailers were able to come find her from the afterlife. It wasn’t as if she had any money that could be stolen from her. Anyone who had cared for her was in the wind, or dead, including the man on the top floor with a finger in his pocket. 

Last time she stood in this alley, Sita told him not to keep feeding the dog. That she’d only keep coming back, with hope. Hope breeds misery, and she wouldn’t wish that on such a sweet creature. 

He’d known her tattoo was a koyal, and he’d seen right through the rest of her too. She couldn’t do the same, and she’d hated him for it. 

How could someone wear their softness so openly, and be completely opaque at the same time. She had to hate him, and he’d let her, with complete understanding. But she couldn’t now, could she. . . Why not?

Who was left to tell her she wasn’t ladylike enough, or enough for that matter? In the many evenings from that one night, she’d heard him whistle. Sita copied the tone.

She had been kind once, maybe with everyone dead or gone, she could be again. 

Several heartbeats passed, and she found herself wondering if the dog was alright. She thought the worst, as that’s what the truth probably was. 

The little dog had been trampled to death, maybe some drunk men had decided to torture and kill the poor thing, maybe the sweet creature was in heaven now…Her large eyes began to well, and she tried whatever she could to shove it down. 

Perhaps after all this time, Sita was still a fool. 

And then, tap tap tap tap of little paws on the pavement. 

In the alley, Sita turned slowly, met by a pair of bright, brown eyes, and a warmth spread in her chest, like a paintbrush in water. The dog looked alright, more robust than the last time she’d seen her, and sat perfectly still, waiting. 

She couldn’t help but coo at the good girl. 

“Come here, my little star,” The puppy inched closer, body wiggling in the way babies do, “we can’t stop to eat now, but we will.” 

The dog - Tara, she decided - tapped her cold, wet nose against Sita’s hand, and the woman reached down to pick her up. She was mostly bone, with more muscle and fat than other dogs she’d seen - Bobby would take the credit for that, in her mind. 

By the size of the dog's feet, Tara would be large, and with Sita at her side, she would, in fact, grow up. 

“What have you got?” She asked the puppy,  meeting her big brown eyes, Sita took the burlap scrap, to reveal a gun. A very, very old, heavy gun - loaded. With a note, in bold, curved, letters: 

TIME TO REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE

#monkey man #sita monkey man #sita x kid #monkey man 2024 #dev patel #dev patel fic

[janaknandini-singh999]

sitting by the fountain in my aangan on a breezy, chandni raat listening to the peacock and koyal singing, reading your love letters <3

#desi tag #desi #desi aesthetic #desi academia #desi culture #desi dark academia #desiblr #desi girl #just desi things #desi stuff #desi shit posting #being desi #desi things #desi thoughts #bollywood romance #pyaar #desi teen #desi relatable #desi tumblr #bollywood songs

[lionofchaeronea]

The Shuttle by Frances Hodgson Burnett - I quite like it, it kinda goes into the (poor) english aristocracy marrying wealthy american girls and the differences in expectation of treatment and such.

A Bride's Story by Kaoru Mori - a manga series, don't know if your into that, but carefully researched, beautiful art (especially the textiles) of the time period and place, in areas around the silk road/russian steppes - Kazakhstan is one place I know the author visited.

The Ghost Bride - Yangsze Choo

Black Water Sister - Cho Zen

The Midwife's Apprentice - Karen Cushman

The House of the Scorpion - Nancy Farmer

Julie of the Wolves - Jean Craighead George

Blackbird House - Alice Hoffman

Geisha of Gion - Mineko Iwasaki - one of the main people Arthur Golden interviewed for his book. She wrote this to counteract his "white guyification" of what she told him.

Literary Studies for Rhetoric Classes - Bernard L. Jefferson - found this one at a thrift store I just really enjoyed a lot of the pieces in it.

The Story of My Life - Helen Keller

Sirena - Donna Jo Napoli

A Monster Calls - Patrick Ness

Binti - Nnedi Okorafor

What Happened to Lani Garver - Carol Plum-Ucci

The Color of Magic - Terry Pratchett

The Boxer Rebellion: The Dramatic Story of China's War on Foreigners that Shook the World in the Summer of 1900 - Diana Preston

Trudy's Promise - Marcia Preston - a very close look at one mother separated from her son when the Berlin Wall goes up.

Interview with the Vampire - Anne Rice - a very sad novel as it was written in response to when Anne Rice lost her child. A good close look at grief and loss and apathy.

Lovecraft Country - Matt Ruff - the show missed the point... the author wrote this inspired by when he and a black friend had been talking and he realized that because of skin color that while they occupied the same space, they lived in "different countries"

The Marvels - Brian Selznick

Salt to the Sea - Ruta Sepeteys

Koyal Dark, Mango Sweet - Kashmira Sheth

The Help - Kathryn Stockett

Children of Time - Adrian Tchaikovsky (or anything by him really)

The Ramsay Scallop - Frances Temple

Doomsday Book - Connie Willis - time-traveler finds herself back during the start of one of the sweeps of the black plague - it's pretty sad

Fifth Chinese Daughter - Jade Snow Wong

*some of these are middlegrade but I feel middlegrade is sometimes not appreciated enough as literature. ^_^'

*also sorry for the very long list....

No apologies needed. I really appreciate the recommendations.

#personal #answer

[itsfookingloosah]

mahi I won't sing bole jo koyal ever again wapas aa jayo

#desiblr #ms dhoni #layla shut up challenge #cricket #indian cricket team

[yazan-kalem-siyah06]

İslam doğuda batarken batıda yeniden doğuyor kimligimizde müslüman yazardı onunda kaldırdılar ve hiç sesimizi çıkarmadık kime batıyordu bizim kimligimizde müslüman yazması Müslümanım diyipte müslümanca yaşayan bir lider gördünüz mü hayatının hiç bir yerinde Müslümanlık olmayan insanları başımıza biz lider yaptık aklımızı kulanamadik rabbim bizlerden hesap soracak

Hesabı koyal olsnlardan eyle ALLAH'IM

[ramayantika]

प्रतीक्षा

The whole village has gone to sleep. Not a sound can be heard. The cool night breeze is blowing just lightly, without letting a leaf rustle in the forest. The village guards too are dozing as the wind lulls their eyes to sleep.

But, there is one boy in the village whose sleep has been robbed off. The young youthful milk maidens of Vraja often talk about this boy amongst themselves and with their dear companions as the boy who robs their sleep and peace with his lovely face and smile.

'He comes in my dreams and steals sweet butter from my pot. When I reprimand him, he smiles sweetly and kisses my cheek. But, when my eyes open at dawn, I find my mother sprinkling water over my face.'

'Isn't he such a charming lad? I don't think there would be any other handsome boy apart from him in all the three worlds.'

The boy in this conversation is none other than the darling child of Yashoda, wife of Nanda Maharaj, who was also the chief of the cowherd community. He was the most beautiful child in Vraja and in adolescence, handsomeness was naturally bestowed upon him.

Skin as dark as the magnificent monsoon clouds, curly hair as soft as silk which sported a band or sometimes a crown of peacock feathers. His limbs were annointed with fragrant sandalwood paste which made his presence distinct from the other boys of Vrindavan. His eyes shaped like beautiful lotus petals, and when he would bat his eyelashes at any maiden passing by his path, she was bound to lose her heart to him. He would often wear yellow clothes and strut the streets of Vrindavan with his friends while causing mischief that annoyed the womenfolk on the outside, but on the inside, they were delighted each time he and his friends would engage in pranks, for then they would have a glimpse of his divine form.

What's his name?

He goes by many names. For Yashoda, he is Kanha. The cowherds call him Gopal, the protector of the cows. The elder males sometimes call him Nandlal, the son of Nanda. Young girls who fawn over him call him Mohan, the one who enchants and sometimes they refer to him as Madanmohan, for he is attractive than the Love God, Kama also called, Madan. He is Muralidhar for he is always seen with a flute on his lips and is called Krishna by all for his noticeable dark monsoon cloud complexion.

When he plays his flute, all the gopis and cows throng to the forest, enchanted by his melodious tunes. The ladies would make amusing excuses to leave their house on time to meet this charming boy on the riverbank of Yamuna, then why was this boy all alone in a flower bower deep in the forest with eyes gazing longingly at the moon that was soon to disappear amongst the night clouds?

A certain maiden of Vraja bhumi has stolen Krishna's heart. She walks with the grace of a swan and her voice is sweeter than the koyal. Her fair complexion pales the beauty of the moon for she is far dazzling than the Purnima moon. She possesses curly hair just like Krishna and decorates it with flowers and beautiful ornaments. With jingling bangles on her wrists and jewelled ankle bells, she dances with him on some nights in the heart of the forest. Those bangles and anklets themselves play a mellifluous melody in rhythm with Krishna's flute.

Wouldn't such a beauty charm this notorious charmer? What is her name?

She is Radha, the daughter of Vrishbhanu.

"What is taking her so long? She is never this late." Krishna murmurs to himself as his fingers gently caress the back of a baby squirrel that has nestled itself on his thigh. "Look, even you have fallen asleep waiting for your dear Radha."

Time passes by. The chirping crickets have given themselves to sleep, but there is no sign of jingling anklets making way into the forest. No boat is rowing down the river. The forest is empty.

The silver moon has donned a dark golden robe around her it seems. When Krishna had first arrived her, the moon was high up in the sky, illuminating the bower and the entire forest, but now its colour has darkened. In no time will she too go to sleep to make way for dawn.

Sighing, he gently places the baby squirrel down on the ground with his mother. Covering their themselves with leaves and twigs, he mutters, "Looks like, she won't come. I should get back home."

Pulling his uttariya that was hanging from the branches of a tree, he drapes it around his body and rubs his arms. The flower garland in his hand withered a long time ago. A dejected look on his face makes him appear as if all the stars in the night sky have lost their light. Walking down the forest path, he approaches the familiar turning that leads the way to the village when he hears the sound of anklet bells.

His heart soars and he walks faster towards the source, knowing it would be his dear Radha only. For a moment, he wonders why do her anklets sound different. 'Maybe, she is wearing a different pair today.'

He sees a figure draped in a black shawl -- its face covered to avoid any recognition. As the figure approaches closer, he smells the scent of jasmine flowers and roses in the air, as a bright smile adorns on his lips.

He jumps in delight and runs towards her direction. Whatever tiredness that had approached him earlier had disappeared in a jiffy. I do wonder how the arrival of a loved one after a long time feels for the one in waiting. A little jitters and excitement makes house in the heart.

Fair hands gently part away from the shawl, and Krishna wastes no moment in clasping them. "Radhey, I thought you would never come tonight. Even though it's quite late now, but I am glad you did come here. Let's not venture inside the forest now. It would be better we walk on the river bank and talk, and then we both will leave for our homes." He shows her the withered garland. "Oh, and I made you this, but it isn't fresh and vibrant anymore, nor does it," he smells the garland, "emit its fragrance like it did initially. But don't worry, I will make a new one tomorrow when you come to meet me."

The fair hands in Krishna's grasp still and our charming cowherd wonders why Radhika hasn't spoken a single word until now. The hands then slowly slide the shawl from their face making Krishna pull back from his position, a shocked and confused expression all over his features.

"Manjari?!"

"The one and only."

"What are you doing here?"

Manjari removes the shawl and places it over her shoulders. Brushing her braid with her fingers, she says, "You aren't the only one who meets your lover in the forest. I am here to meet Anant."

"Then why do you smell like jasmine and roses. Radha uses that scent and Its pretty distinct." Krishna says dejectedly while pouting that it wasn't his beloved Radha.

Manjari couldn't help but laugh at his plight. "Oh, I actually borrowed it from her. I love that scent and I have been looking for it in the market, but it got over. Anant came back from Mathura after a month, so I decided to surprise him with a new fragrance."

"In that case, I better leave you to meet him while I go home and sulk because my lover hasn't come to meet me. You go and enjoy."

Manjari laughs again and pats his shoulder. "She told me that she was supposed to meet you tonight. She leaves her window open. Check her house, she might have dozed off dreaming about you."

He hums and takes her leave while twirling his flute in his fingers. The sounds of those anklet bells soon fade in the distance and our darling Krishna is alone once again.

****** ******** ******** ******** *******

Bonus addition (I am generous)

"You slept???"

"I don't know how. I was getting ready for you and somehow my eyes drooped while braiding flowers in my hair."

"Manjari was right then."

"I am sorry. I kept you- wait what? What on earth was Manjari doing there?"

"We aren't the only ones who go to the forest alone at night, Radhe"

"Oh. Well, yes, she had told me that Anant was coming back which is why she borrowed my perfume vial."

"Also, it's okay. You need your beauty sleep, besides in a way it serves me right. Haven't I troubled you so many times by reaching late?"

"That has helped come with many creative and convincing ideas to make excuses to my mother, Krishna. I think it's a good exercise."

"Well, let's meet in the evening today then? Don't sleep early."

Both of them laugh and Radhika nods. "Not this time."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ･ﾟ☆｡ ･:*:･ ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Tagging the sakhis: @ma-douce-souffrance @swayamev @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @pothosinpots @arachneofthoughts @jessbeinme15 @reallythoughtfulwizard @madhoshiyaan @eugenephosgene @lil-stark @pokemon-master-elita @riiddhhiii

#samridhi writes #krishna x radha #vrindavan #krishna fics #desiblr #indian fics #stories

[terimummykejai]

Ye mere dimag m bole jo koyal kyu ghum raha h 😭

[hgulnaz]

duniyā kī mahfiloñ se uktā gayā huuñ yā rab

kyā lutf anjuman kā jab dil hī bujh gayā ho

shorish se bhāgtā huuñ dil DhūñDtā hai merā

aisā sukūt jis par taqrīr bhī fidā ho

martā huuñ ḳhāmushī par ye aarzū hai merī

dāman meñ koh ke ik chhoTā sā jhoñpaḌā ho

āzād fikr se huuñ uzlat meñ din guzārūñ

duniyā ke ġham kā dil se kāñTā nikal gayā ho

lazzat sarod kī ho chiḌiyoñ ke chahchahoñ meñ

chashme kī shorishoñ meñ baajā sā baj rahā ho

gul kī kalī chaTak kar paiġhām de kisī kā

sāġhar zarā sā goyā mujh ko jahāñ-numā ho

ho haath kā sirhānā sabze kā ho bichhaunā

sharmā.e jis se jalvat ḳhalvat meñ vo adā ho

mānūs is qadar ho sūrat se merī bulbul

nanhe se dil meñ us ke khaTkā na kuchh mirā ho

saf bāñdhe donoñ jānib buuTe hare hare hoñ

naddī kā saaf paanī tasvīr le rahā ho

ho dil-fareb aisā kohsār kā nazāra

paanī bhī mauj ban kar uTh uTh ke dekhtā ho

āġhosh meñ zamīñ kī soyā huā ho sabza

phir phir ke jhāḌiyoñ meñ paanī chamak rahā ho

paanī ko chhū rahī ho jhuk jhuk ke gul kī Tahnī

jaise hasīn koī ā.īna dekhtā ho

mehñdī lagā.e sūraj jab shaam kī dulhan ko

surḳhī liye sunahrī har phuul kī qabā ho

rātoñ ko chalne vaale rah jaa.eñ thak ke jis dam

ummīd un kī merā TuuTā huā diyā ho

bijlī chamak ke un ko kuTiyā mirī dikhā de

jab āsmāñ pe har sū bādal ghirā huā ho

pichhle pahr kī koyal vo sub.h kī mo.azzin

maiñ us kā ham-navā huuñ vo merī ham-navā ho

kānoñ pe ho na mere dair o haram kā ehsāñ

rauzan hī jhoñpaḌī kā mujh ko sahar-numā ho

phūloñ ko aa.e jis dam shabnam vazū karāne

ronā mirā vazū ho naala mirī duā ho

is ḳhāmushī meñ jaa.eñ itne buland naale

tāroñ ke qāfile ko merī sadā dirā ho

har dardmand dil ko ronā mirā rulā de

behosh jo paḌe haiñ shāyad unheñ jagā de

-Allama Iqbal, Ek Arezoo.

#ek arezoo #allama iqbal #poem #urdu ghazal #urdu shayari #iqbal #mutual feelings