Romance, Rebellion, and Raanjhanaa: A Cinematic Rollercoaster

In the town of Varanasi, where love’s on parade,  

Lived Kundan the romancer, a poetic charade,  

With a heart full of dreams and a head full of plans,  

He’s chasing his crush like a sitcom with fans.

He’s writing her letters that she’ll never read,  

And gifting her roses, though they’re mostly weed,  

He’s proposing in poetry, where rhymes go astray,  

It’s like Shakespeare and Dr. Seuss had a bizarro ballet.

Zoya’s just trying to live her own life,  

While Kundan’s still caught in a world of his strife,  

He’s chasing her around with a love so intense,  

It’s like a rom-com where logic takes a long holiday fence.

BUT.............................

In the same lanes of Varanasi, where love's supposed to bloom,

Kundan’s steps turned sour, like a scent of impending gloom,

He chased after Zoya with a fervor unkind,

His romantic pursuits, well, they crossed the line.

He lurked in the shadows, in every street corner,

As if love’s greatest victory was to be a voyeur,

His gestures were grand, but his methods quite flawed,

For stalking a lover is a path deeply flawed.

With every surprise visit and unannounced call,

Kundan’s affection seemed more like a brawl,

He’s sneaking through windows, and peeking with glee,

Yet, this isn’t love—it’s a severe breach of privacy.

He’d follow her steps, like a ghost in her space,

Ignoring her boundaries, her personal grace,

In his heart, he meant well, with intentions so pure,

But stalking is a practice that’s never demure.

Love should be patient, with respect at its core,

Not a constant invasion that leaves her unsure,

His misguided attempts, though fueled by affection,

Were nothing more than a harmful obsession.

So let’s raise a toast to love that’s sincere,

Not one that invades or brings her to fear,

Kundan’s pursuit, though wrapped in a poetic delight,

Missed the mark on respect, and that’s just not right.

AND......................... 

In the high-speed track of romance, where passions ignite,  

Zoya and Akram are racing stars in the night,  

Their chemistry’s a Grand Prix, with each lap they take,  

A thrilling adventure, with stakes that they make.

Zoya’s like the sleekest Formula 1 car,  

Astonishing in elegance, she sets the bar,  

Her charm’s the turbo boost that accelerates the pace,  

Taking Akram’s heart on a thrilling chase.

Akram’s the skilled driver, with finesse and skill,  

Navigating the turns with precision and thrill,  

His love is the pit crew, tuning every detail,  

Ensuring their romance never hits a derail.

Their hearts are the engines, roaring with might,  

Fueled by affection, burning bright in the night,  

In the grand circuit of life, they’re racing as one,  

Their love’s the victory lap when the race is won.

Through every pit stop, and every tight bend,  

Their bond is a journey that’ll never end,  

Like a Formula 1 race, with speed and delight,  

Zoya and Akram are racing through the night.

So here’s to their romance, in the fast lane of love,  

A race so exhilarating, it fits like a glove,  

With every turn and every acceleration, they make,  

Their chemistry’s a victory, a perfect high-speed stake.

WATCHED THIS MOVIE FOR KUNDAN ENDED UP LOVING AKRAM. When Akram died, I felt an overwhelming wave of sorrow that I couldn't contain. It was as if my heart had been squeezed by an invisible hand, and the tears just flowed uncontrollably. As the final moments played out, I could feel a profound emptiness, like a cherished part of the narrative had been ripped away. His death was not just a plot twist but a deeply personal heartbreak that left me weeping and grappling with a sense of profound loss.

मैंने हारा मैं, तेरा सारा मैं
मीठा-मीठा तू, खारा-खारा मैं
तेरा सारा मैं, सारा मैं