THODA RETRO, THODA ANTIQUE, THODA VINTAGE

HOW DO I KNOW ALL OF THIS? MUMMA PAPA NE BATAYA AUR FILMO NE DIKHAYA

Love in the ‘90s was a different art,
When writing a letter took days to start.

Waiting days for a reply, hands trembling with hope,
A romance built on patience, not an instant scroll or poke

Love in the ‘90s was poetry in disguise,
A world of simple gestures, unspoken ties.

No “typing...” stress or double blue ticks,
Just heartfelt confessions with innocent tricks.

When eyes met across a crowded school hall,
It felt like fate, no algorithms at all.

Letters inked with care carried hearts in their flight,
Each word a whisper, every comma a delight.

You’d sit with a pen, pour your heart on a page,
And hope it reached before you turned another age.

No swiping right, just a nervous landline call,
And praying their dad didn’t answer at all.

Dates weren’t coffee shops or sleek, modern scenes,
It was the park bench, samosas, and cheap jeans.

A mixed tape was the pinnacle of affection,
Crafted with patience, track-by-track perfection.

Falling in love through cassettes, not screens,
Every song a message, every lyric a dream.

Pagers would buzz with cryptic “I Love You” codes,
A love language born of beeps and nodes.

You’d race to the phone booth with coins in hand,
Whispering sweet nothings, hoping no one would stand.

Polaroid clicks caught moments so raw,
Where every flaw was a part of the awe.

And fashion? Oh, it was a tale to tell,
Denim on denim and hair gel’s spell.

Love letters were treasures tied in ribbons of red,
Unlike now, where “u up?” texts are sent instead.

The fights? Dramatic, fueled by Bollywood lore,
Storming off only to knock back at the door.

No emojis, just doodles on a school notebook,
Hearts and initials, the ultimate hook.

It wasn’t perfect, but it had its charms,
A simpler time, with analog warmth in its arms.

So, here’s to the ‘90s, with love so true,
Where the “buffering” heart always found its cue.


SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, 


You asked me my favorite season, sunny or cold,
But every weather feels tiring, truth be told.

You asked for my favorite color to wear, bold or shy,
But most of my clothes are just shades of goodbye.

You asked for my favorite chai spot, but here’s the twist,
That first and last bitter sip made it easy to resist. 

You asked me my favorite colors, but I don’t have any,
Though there’s a list I hate, and trust me, it’s many.

You asked for my favorite nonveg dish, but I don’t partake,
Being a vegetarian, that’s a choice I won’t break.

You asked me my favorite vacation place, where I unwind,
Yet I’m a homebody at heart, if you don’t mind.

You asked for my favorite sport, the one I cheer,
But my couch and I, we’ve made it quite clear.

You asked about my favorite song, the one on repeat,
But silence itself is a melody so sweet.

You asked for my favorite movie, the one I’d defend,
But I forget most plots before they even end.

You asked about my favorite dessert, my sugary delight,
But sweets and I, we rarely unite.

You asked for my favorite hobby, the one I pursue,
But I’m still figuring out what I really like to do.

You asked about my favorite game, one I play with zeal,
Yet most games leave me with no appeal.

You asked me my favorite dream, the one I hold tight,
But my dreams change faster than day turns to night.

You asked for my favorite animal, one I’d keep,
But the thought of responsibility makes me lose sleep.

You asked about my favorite drink, my go-to cure,
But water’s the only one I can truly endure.

You asked me my favorite festival, my annual cheer,
But they’re all a blur as the years disappears.

You asked me my favorite memory, one I treasure true,
But honestly, I’m still searching for one that feels new.

You asked about my favorite me, the version most bright,
But I’m still a work in progress, chasing the light.





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