Teri Taareefien -official Lyric... - Harsh Chauhan -
He hadn’t planned on writing her a song. He was a lyricist, sure, but his words were usually for heartbreak, for politics, for the grit of the city. Not for this. Not for the quiet way she said “good morning” or the way she laughed—a sound that felt like light breaking through the very drizzle he was trapped in.
His phone buzzed. A voice note from Meera. He didn’t play it yet. Instead, he imagined the lyric video—the soft, looping animation of a silhouette looking out at a horizon. The words appearing one by one, not bold, but gentle. As if they were afraid of scaring the feeling away.
He stopped. It sounded too simple. Too raw. He was used to metaphors, to complex rhymes that twisted back on themselves. But for her, the complexity was in the simplicity. He wrote again: Harsh Chauhan - TERI TAAREEFIEN -Official lyric...
He wanted to praise her, but couldn’t find the words. Seeing her face, he felt that even God must have spent centuries to make someone like her.
And as the rain finally began to slow, Ayaan knew that some songs are never meant to be sung loudly. Some are just meant to be a lyric video on a rainy day, watched by two people in two different cities, feeling the exact same thing. He hadn’t planned on writing her a song
He picked up his pen. It felt heavier than usual.
Ayaan finally pressed play on the voice note. “It’s raining here too,” Meera said. “And I was just thinking… do you ever wonder if the rain listens to the same songs we do?” Not for the quiet way she said “good
The first line came not as a thought, but as a confession. “Teri taareefien…” (Your praises…)
