Tales of woe

 

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.

Bookmark

 

On the seat right next to mine

there was an old & torn book.

Faded ink on it spoke of a time,

Long gone now. It seemed bespoke.

Out of habit to turn pages,

My eyes started running over the faded words.

A few pages later there was a bookmark

on which written were these words…

Once you read, place the marker into the next page

and write a few lines about yourself,

Become a part of the book of age.

Keep it back on the seat, this was never meant for a bookshelf.

Upon doing as instructed I figured, I was reader number 511.

The book once belonged to this traveller

Who wished to meet the World.

Alas! he could not for time ran out. He was a believer.

He was reader number 001

and now I was a part of his world.

Rusted

 

An old bike sits in my garage.

It is covered in dust

and barely does it look nice.

One day it shall rust.

It was my favourite once,

I used to spend hours on it

riding through my favourite paths,

when suddenly it started to break down,

delayed my every plan.

I could no longer go around

and felt like a different man.

Everything has a life span.

 

When something/someone denies you from being the best version of yourself, understand that their time in your life is now over.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

Dropped conspiracy

 

I dropped it that day

And it broke.

Hundreds of pieces got scattered,

For me to collect again.

But I remember that my hands didn’t fail

And my fingers opened voluntarily.

Perhaps it was necessary,

A beautiful conspiracy

Which later proved to be a therapy.

 

Sometimes the mistakes that we do are actually done deliberately by our subconscious mind. Later we realise that it was a necessary therapy for us.

Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

Post its on my wall

 

Hits can be derailing

And it takes time to get back.

As we end up trailing

Our paths seem to go black.

It feels like we are failing,

And that we have been giving slack.

Everything becomes overwhelming

That we start wishing if we could go back.

But…

Life isn’t streamlined

But a curve of ups and downs.

That timeline which we predefined

Never covers all the towns.

We never trail,

Neither do we actually fail

But gain lessons which weren’t expected.

So be proud of yourself and stop feeling dejected.

Old strings new tunes

In the deepest corner of my room

6 old strings stood from distant past.

It wasn’t an accident that I discovered

Something which was already there since the start.

Many fond memories ran like a reel

Inside the projector of my heart

And then suddenly I started to feel

As if a sin had been committed on my part.

Old tunes stopped and strings never reverberated

Because I gave up on them,

Fallacy got me distracted.

I gave up on them.

Music was lost after a while

And I had to fill that void with noise.

We never love something which is not our style

6 old strings were my choice.

But now I am back and they are still there

Waiting to be played.

With old strings and new tunes I today declare

Resumption of my parade.

Even in the loudest nights now,

My tunes shall not fade.

We always return to the place we belong. We always find the things which are meant for us. Even though we walk away from them, life gets us back to them and it is at that moment when we realise that it was all meant to be.

Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

Dear Ghost of Past

You never leave, do you?

And just stay somewhere out there.

Your presence becomes weak with time

But you don’t leave.

Thank you for not leaving

And reminding me of the gone.

Because of you, Dear Ghost of Past, I never stopped believing.

Stay with me until my work is done.

Déjà vu

All of a sudden I feel

that I knew you all along.

And our life is some camera reel,

Looping our movie and our song.

I know what is about to happen,

Because it’s you. How can I not know?

I see us dancing and everybody clapping,

All the while as we grow.

I haven’t seen you but I have,

In my mind you are my tomorrow.

For now I am talking to myself,

Who knows, maybe in the morrow.

Subtle Stories: Rain

It was drizzling and cold winds made the scene just perfect. I was at my friend’s place having a beer and standing on the balcony. My eyes were closed and my face had a smile for I was enjoying a moment in peace.

*Doorbell Rang*

Vivek: Hey, Rushad! Can you get the door please?

*Hi, I am Rushad btw!*

As I opened the door, I met you. You were this beautiful person who had an irritated face. Your hair was wet due to the Rain. You came inside the house and asked me, “Umm… I am sorry, Are you Vivek? I am here to deliver this home made gift basket which was ordered by Vivek Tripathi, House No. 33, Pear Society”

No, I am his Friend. Hi! Vivek is inside. Can I get you anything? Maybe a Towel and a hot cup of coffee, you are completely drenched.

“No, it’s fine thanks.”, You said just before your funny little mind decided to take up on that offer when you saw the rain falling heavily from the balcony.

“On second thoughts… Coffee sounds good, if you don’t mind.”

I still remember that innocent smile of yours.

Vivek was stuck in some meeting which he was attending through Skype so I decided to pay for the Gift basket he had ordered. By this time the rain was pouring down so heavily that there was no way you could have driven a scooty. Keeping in mind your personal space, I decided to make you coffee and stand in the Balcony while you were sitting in the living room chair, overlooking the balcony.

*Confinement makes you talkative, doesn’t it?*

“So… You are?”

I am Rushad, Vivek’s friend who is also stuck due to rain. (Smiles on both sides due to “also”)

*I will never forget the conversation we had after that*

“You know… Rain is like so weird, while falling it looks amazing but once it mixes with the mud of our cities, Yuck! And for people in their homes looking from the balcony it’s so pretty (I laughed softly as I was one of them) and for those who have to roam around the city to earn a living it’s kindly tacky (She laughed softly as she was one of them).”

You make gift baskets? Or, do you work for some company that delivers online ordered stuff, like Flipkart or Amazon?

“So basically, I have a small shop in the city where I make these gift baskets. People can either buy them from there or order online. Usually I have a few people to help me out with the deliveries but thanks to Rain I had to come all the way here to deliver this package.”

You could have come tomorrow as well, why today in the rain?

“I am very passionate and professional about my Business and on date delivery is vital to it.”

*The way you spoke about your work reflected your love for it. You were so zealous and driven. I loved that quality of yours.*

“What about you?”

I am an Engineer, one of many, who came here to catch up with an old buddy before leaving the city. You see very soon I will be going to another place and start off again and this Vivek is my best friend in the world so I decided to spend some time with him before I leave.

“Oh, I see. Happy?”

Oh yeah, very. I like change and I wanted this particular one a lot. I am giving up my career in the corporate world to Pursue a career in travelling and writing. I love doing both.

“Woah! That requires a lot of guts and dedication.”

I guess so.

*Then something happened, I never thought would.*

“Wait… Rushad, right?… Are you Rushad Roy of Transient Writings?”

Yes.

“Oh my god! I am so addicted to your site. I never thought I’ll get to meet you.”

Haha, thanks but it’s nothing. I just write some lines along with a few pictures that I click.

“Okay to you it may just be a site but for many like me it is a page where we find happiness, meaning, fun and tbh a little bit of Jealousy from your amazing travel pictures.”

Well, it is always amazing to hear such words from someone else about my work.

*Vivek walked into the living room.*

Vivek: Oh hey, is this the Gift Basket?

“Yes.”

Vivek: Great timing yaar. I ordered it for this amazingly stupid brother of mine, Rushad.

What?

Vivek: Yes, this is your going away gift you idiot. I will not miss you at all and I really won’t miss travelling with you.

*Vivek had tears in his eyes for you see we have been in touch for over 16 years now and it was difficult to process this change*

I will miss you a lot brother and Thank You for such a wonderful gift. I love it.

*We hugged each other and shared a moment of brotherhood.*

I guess I should also thank you… Oh dear, How stupid of me, I didn’t even ask your name. Miss?

“Maanvi”

Thank you Maanvi.

*Rain, I have always failed to understand Rain. I stopped just at that very moment.*

Both You and I decided to start for our respective destinations but thanks to Rain, Uber and Ola were of no use.

“So… if you are looking for a ride, can I drop Mr. Rushad Roy to the Metro?”

Umm.. If it is not too much trouble, sure.

*7 Years into the future, date: 30-Aug-2027.*

A letter came to our doorstep. It said:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited to Harvard School of Business as a guest lecturer on Entrepreneurship.

We would be honoured if You (Maanvi Roy) would accept this invitation.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

I placed that letter into a gift basket I tried to make and came running to you, Maanvi.

I remember how we met and I am forever grateful to that day’s Rain for bringing you in my life.

Feather

 

Being a guide who shows path,

It’s ironic I am lost today.

But I cannot tell anyone,

Because they look up to me for a way.

 

Everything was perfect and I had my aim,

But then a gush of wind came by and it changed.

I was no longer the same.

And fell from the sky, estranged.

 

While I fell, I was watched by many.

In my misery they found harmony.

I have been grounded ever since,

But my fate changed the fate of eternity.

 

Those who laughed, depend on me today.

With ink, I carve their life’s way.

Yesterday’s fallen will now tell tomorrow what to say.

History is now what I sway.

 

~ A historians Pen.