An unsettling unsure persona
Of self is conflicting today.
In my mind I am not me.
It is different what we both say.
Good thoughts are uttered badly
And skepticism is always high.
Simultaneous smiles are seen rarely
For one speaks truth and the other lies.
Lost is the bond now
Which is required to strike a balance.
Now it is all about how
I balance this imbalance.
After months of hard work didn’t bear fruit, he seemed despondent.
She too had nothing absolute, life seemed dishonest
but somehow they ended up across the same table,
as they say unstable finds unstable.
One had everything and aspired for more,
the other had nothing and wanted just a little.
Tales of woe were exchanged
and both realised, Life is a pickle.
She saw a guy with success, still not giving up on betterment.
He saw a girl with nothing to start yet, not ready for a settlement.
But none spoke it out loud and shared a thankful smile.
They got what they needed, at least for a while.
♦ Sometimes when two broken pieces meet they somehow fix each other with their shattered pieces.
It was the last time we ever gazed
into each other’s eyes.
Gone are those days
and life is what it is today.
But before we turned around
and walked our separate paths
there was this moment…
It was just this moment
when we both realised,
A good rival is also very important.
A good enemy helps you to improve.
-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen
It starts from the day we come into this world
and after that it lasts forever.
Father is not just a relation
but a journey full of sacrificing endeavours.
We cannot thank you enough, ever.
You never stop watching over us, do you?
My childhood pictures were taken only by you.
In adolescence we walk right next to you, holding your finger
and in teenage, despite wanting to be alone, your watchful eyes linger.
No matter how old we get, you remain our silent singer .
Underneath that tough and quiet exterior
we all know that you are soft hearted just like mom.
Yet your wish to make us better
asks you to take tough calls. How do you do it?
That parent who accepts resentment for his child’s betterment.
Perfect balance of love and lectures, teacher and friend,
at times harsh but always fair,
Father you are hard to comprehend.
I pretend to be like you when I sit on your chair
and feel that overwhelming pressure that you withstand.
No child can ever document their father’s role
because there are some things you just cannot express.
Words too have limitations after all
Unlike my Father’s worry when I am a mess.
Father, the person we fail to call.
All we can say is a Thank You
and we will try to be a bit more like you.
It will be tough but it will be worth it.
Even though we don’t say this enough,
Father, we really really Love You.
You cannot say anything about this one man because he knows you more than you know yourself. He is your Father.
-Nishant, The Son.
Often in the evening strolls
a realisation sneaks up
which recalls something really tough.
Should I continue or give up?
The stigma of latter can be rough
but what if I am fed up?
Nothing will ever be enough.
Characterisation has made it hard to give up
even on something which makes me miserable.
So I started to bluff to myself…
The worst kind of gamble.
Please don’t berate me for leaving now.
I tried but couldn’t finish somehow.
Only a human, I am.
I wish I had a backspace key now.
Regardless of what they say,
What they say does matter.
Let me find a better way,
Allow me to choose the latter.
I shall come back better,
I shall come back brighter,
I will feel honest and lighter.
Giving up does not make me any less of a fighter.
If something makes you miserable, there is no shame in giving it up. Giving up to try something new is actually a sign of bravery.
-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen.
Stellar it is to be sanguine,
In times of drought.
To speak amicably
At the face of defeat.
Most fail at this
Not because they are oblivious of it
But because they run out,
Run out of patience, of hope.
To them and to myself, I say
Stop running.
We work ourselves up so much that we start consuming our patience and our energy in the pursuit of our goals/dreams. Stop running and learn walking.
-The Poet and the Pen
बहुत पहले की बात है,
जब में कुछ नहीं था तब
में देखता था राह चलते लोगो को
झूटी हांसी और दुःख में दिखते थे सब.
हस्ता था में उनपे यह सोच के कि
ऐसी भी क्या बात है जो इन्हे
संतुलन करना नहीं आता?
जवाब बड़े होने के बाद मिला.
वह संतुलन ही था जो मुझे दिखता था
वह झूटी हांसी जो दिखने में प्यारी लगती थी
इतनी प्यारी कि सच्चे दुःख को ढक लेती थी.
संतुलन ही था.
वह झूटी हांसी जो खुद को अंदर से दबोच लेती थी
पर अपनों को चैन कि सांस लेने देती थी.
आंखे जो नरम होके चमकती थी
पर आंसुओ को समेटे रहती थी.
आइने के सामने जाने की हिम्मत देती थी
वह संतुलन ही है.
आज भी हांसी आती है मुझे
पर अब खुद पे.
ऐसी भी क्या बात है जो मुझे
संतुलन करना सीखा गयी?
जवाब आज भी नहीं मिला.
Remember how hard it was when you started learning how to ride a bike?
Today when you look back at it, it seems easy. Well, that’s pretty much how life is.
Hey dad, look!
I am riding without training wheels.
Guess you were right,
Wounds incurred while learning heals.
I wish life was also like that,
As simple as riding a bike.
For I am trying to balance,
Failing by falling at every strike.
Or maybe these are learnings too,
So these wounds shall also heal fast.
Life (if) is like a bike,
Let’s balance like we did in the past.
