वह हस्सी अब धुंदली दिखती है,
जिस पर मुझे नाज़ हुआ करता था…
आँखे भी अब कहा सच देखती है,
सच न जाने क्या हुआ करता था…
जब रौशनी गिरती है चेहरे पे,
उसके पीछे का अँधेरा ज्यादा दिखता है…
सुबह का सूरज नया दिन नहीं लाता,
रात की नींद दिन में मिलती है…
फिर भी यह दुनिया चलती है.
और चलना भी चाइये, क्युकि सही है.
बस एक बार यह धुंधलापन मिट जाये,
वह हस्सी यही कही छिपी है.
आइना समेट रहा था, खुद को समेट लिया
एक टुटा आइना सच कह गया.
चेहरा नहीं पर दिल दिखा गया.
बिखरा जरूर पर
देखने वाला भी तो बिखरा ही था.
आइना जीता और बिखरा हार गया.
खुद को समेटना जो भूल गया था
वह अपने बिखरे आप को समेटने लगा.
किसे पता था…
पहली बार उसे कुछ अच्छा लगा.
दिल के दरार आईने पे आगये,
पर जैसे जैसे आइना समेटा
एक चेहरा सामने आया.
वह चेहरा उसने कही तो था देखा.
बहुत पहले. समेटा हुआ चेहरा.
अब उसे फिरसे वही चेहरा देखना है.
आईने के सामने खड़े होक खुद से कहना है,
की वह वापिस पहले जैसा हो गया है.
और किसी टूटे हुए आईने से कहना है,
वह गलत है, देखने वाला फिरसे पूरा हो गया है.
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.
Did you know?
No, I know you did not.
Did it show?
Yes, but no one took a note.
What now?
Sorry, You already forgot.
How?
That’s what we were taught.
First learn to see, listen, empathize & care. Rest will follow.
-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen.
Mental Health, one of my blog’s primary focus, is no joke. To all those who are reading and to The Poet and the Pen family, I request you to please share your pain if you have any. Don’t keep it inside you. I am here.
क्या तुमने वह बात सुनी
अरे वही जो में इतने दिनों से कह रहा था ?
अगर सुनते तो शायद पूछना न पड़ता.
अच्छा यह बताओ, अब सुन रहे हो
या अब भी सुनाई नहीं दे रही ?
या शायद तुम्हे कोई फर्क ही नहीं पड़ता.
अब तो मुझे भी फर्क नहीं पड़ता,
न किसी और से न अपने आप से.
शायद में कुछ दिन और लड़ता,
अगर में यह जंग समझ सकता.
सब कुछ समझ आ जाये यह तो जरुरी नहीं,
ज़िन्दगी सबकी सवार जाये यह तो जरुरी नहीं,
घिरा हुआ होने से अकेलापन दूर हो जाये यह तो जरुरी नहीं,
मेरी बिना आवाज़ वाली बात तुम्हे सुनाई दे जाये, यह तो जरुरी नहीं.
खैर, आपसे मिलके बहुत अच्छा लगा,
आता रहूँगा आपके नज़रो में कभी कबार.
किसी और का तो पता नहीं पर मुझे मेरा दर्द सच्चा लगा,
इसीलिए पूछ रहा हु एक आखिरी बार…
क्या तुमने वह बात सुनी.
I know this feeling. I have been through this as well. Yes, I was once depressed.
I know that you want to share and that you think no one is there but trust me, I am.
If you want to share anything with me through any way whatsoever, just reach out.
-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen.
It has been a while now.
That loop which got broken
Refuses to get fixed.
I am devoid of sleep.
Even though my eyes want,
they refuse to stay shut.
Sleeplessness haunts,
Inability hurts.
I do not know if I am alright,
Just that I am tired deep inside.
I hope that tonight
it won’t hide. Sleep.
I cannot sleep.
-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen
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
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
बैरहाल यहाँ आलम कुछ खास है,
लगता है कोई नया राज है.
अंजानो की महफ़िल में,
चुना मैंने खुद का अंदाज है.
सब ख़ैरियत है ऐसा मुझे एहसास है,
खौफ के ज़माने में दिल जाबाज़ है.
पर क्या करे, अपनों की फिक्र है बोहत,
वह अपने जिनकी मुझे तलाश है.
तलाश जो कभी ख़त्म नहीं होती,
क्युकि अपने मिलते ही बेगाने हो जाते है.
इसीलिए अब वक़्त जाया नहीं करते हम,
खुद की ख़ैरियत में खुश हो जाते है.
Learn to be happy when you are happy.
As bad as they are,
Weak moments are real.
And therefore they will come
Time and again.
No matter what rearranged words say
They are hard to deal.
Therefore it is okay.
It’s okay the way it makes you feel.
Bitter and sweet both are experiences.
