Had I met you in the 70s

Had I met you in the 70s,

you'd have been a perpetual

dua in my all the five prayers, 

be it the namaz-e-fajr or the namaj-e-isha

for then love would've carried the same 

volume of sanctity as any sacred 

place did.

Had I lived in the 70s,

I'd have fixed our dates

on the second Sunday 

of every month in a Chai Tapri where I'd be reciting Tagore's Unending Love, "I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times, in life after life, in age after age, forever" that'd been your favorite and when it'd be the 

time to make a leave, you'd 

hold a corner of my dupatta 

and sing,"Chura liya hai dil

jo tumne, najar nhi churana sanam.

Badalke meri tum zindegaani 

kahi badal na jana sanam." 

Had we lived in the 70s,

you'd have to endure a

silent war every time 

your father would've talked 

athwart love and lovers

and you'd have to end up soliloquizing

"Basa kar dilon mein mitathi hai duniya, 

hasa kar humesha rulati hai duniya."

Had we met in the 70s,

my bookshelf would have to 

bear an extra furtive rack to hold 

all your letters which 

would've been a response to mine.

Had I met you in the 70s, 

our story would've been alluded among 

all those immortal love stories 

like Heer-Ranjha where distances 

wouldn't have weighed the

weight of love,

where love wouldn't be an 

indigent for time but time 

would've been all love's.

Had we met in the 70s,

our love wouldn't  

have to have a finite forever

but it'd have been a deathless testimony.