Dil to chaha per shikast-e-dil nay mohlat he na dee

You don't deserve to be loved, she said.
But seeing the frenzy in her eyes, he strangled his heart. And for the rest of his life his heart never loved him again. This granted him the gift of verbal poignancy of divine caliber and cynical insight as sharp as a diamond blade but when years and years later the child asked her what his eyes were always apologizing for he understood that he had failed. As much today as years and years earlier and every day, every moment between now and then he had consistently, continuously failed and so despite his judicious reasoning and cynical insight as sharp as a diamond blade, he had ended up proving her right.

And now as he sits duly bundled up in two blankets and a fur cap that covers his ears entirely, slowly sucking on the stem of his pipe out of the habit of sucking more so than the habit of smoking he has run out of things to say or verbal poignancy of divine caliber to offer because it was only when the news of her death reached him two years after she had died that it became clear to him that love does not exist. He then had an answer for the child who was no longer a child but a young woman capable of believing in love herself and thus now blinded to the stark truths she could so deftly find amidst the flawless lies that it caused a man much oldersmarterwiser than her to understand the true nature of his crime.

And so he summoned her through the necessary agents of communication between them and despite the rancor she came for she had learnt one lesson well that regret ought be avoided whenever possible.

The answer is, he spoke for the first time since the nicotine had claimed his throat, for breaking my heart.

She remembered the question even after the years and years and every moment within those years that she had struggled to understand the nature of her crime which had warranted such a hefty punishment that she believed she would never ever stop paying for it. But his answer instantly released her from her guilt. Like the soul departing from a corpse, the guilt accumulated over years and years of wondering why travelled up and out of her and her heart welled up with as much emotion as her father's had back when he'd been told that he doesn't deserve to be loved and her father noticed the violence erupt on her face in flashes of crimson across her pale cheeks and a splash of red across the white in her eyes as he learned how it felt to have your own eyes well up with frenzy.

She either failed or chose not to heed the her father's silent request and without letting the chance to go by unheralded she permitted the tears to fall and the words to flow and I didn't think you had one, she said, i don't think you do.