The victim of these lyrics…Muhtarma Esne-e-e-e-ha herself...who was making an aimless journey toward an unfamiliar city with the weight of a strange woman's head on her shoulder, and that too while nursing an uninvited, unentitled grievance in someone's life! At forty years old, this shouldn't feel adventurous at all, and it didn't feel that way to Sneha either. But by a stroke of bad luck, her childhood was spent listening to those exact songs! She was still representing a generation that committed suicide over a failed love, even at this age, as if her age was still stuck at twenty-one! Just a moment before that, it was as if her age wasn't thirty-nine, but twenty-one! And she was wishing herself a happy birthday for stepping into her twenty-first year, calling herself the saddest woman on earth A poet who was also a lover- there shouldn't be a single soul sadder than them in this world, Sneha reached such a conclusion after a lot of thinking. A poet falling in love meant falling into failure. Poets had no right to get love back in return for love. If they succeeded in this matter, who’s going to survive the heartbreak and write the damn poems?