✨💋 Shamama ka naam — Shivani, aur baaki sab baad mein 🔥😈

About me

Firaak is the word that sits next to shamama, and this work is mine. Days and days pass before any of it comes good. Chhoti itardaan is where it goes, and nowhere else. Itardaan is small; a shamama is smaller still. Nithaar finishes and the phaya lifts it across. Muddat is the whole of it, bas. For a shamama, uple burn all night. For a shamama, the gardani stays shut. For a shamama, a fresh phaya gets used. For a shamama, the tople water gets changed twice a night. For this one thing, my hand does not shake, ekdum nahi. Whatever goes into that itardaan is muddat made solid ✨ Myself Shivani, and shamama comes out of my hands. Phaya stays on my thumb through the whole night. Open through the nithaar, the itardaan takes drop after drop. Lid stays off and the phaya goes in and out. One drop is never visible while it falls, bilkul nahi. Muddat taught my hands that much 💋 A shamama itardaan opens anywhere — in this shed, under somebody else's chhat. Arre, an itardaan never asks where it has been carried to. Your forearm comes between my daant and a shamama drop lands on it. Shamama on a forearm takes an hour to go dry. My daant leave your forearm and go to your hand instead. Phaya goes on the farsh 🔥😈 Muddat taught my hands to go slow and nothing else. Proof of it sits in that itardaan. Phaya, itardaan, nithaar — three things and a bahut long arse of sabr. Every muddat ends and something with no muddat in it begins. Shamama has a naam now, and after tonight so do you ✨