There are times when you feel like you don't exist, and then there are times when you wish you never existed. When you're down and out, you just wish if the story could end right away. Bad thoughts are just like cancer, they just grow on and on...

In the middle of all this chaos and stagnant life, love can fill colours. But do we always give it a chance? Very often we make love stories which ends even before it could ever start. That's because we are just blank, any line in our book is a chapter. In the expectation less life, every acceptance is prayer which was never officially offered.

Does it really matter? ...started together but not ended together? Is the end always meant to be content? Why do people still remember Heer and Ranjha, Laila and Majnu, Romeo and Juliet? Considering the fact that they have gone long back? What is it that still keeps them spry? Why do people still put a name to them?