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.

उम्मीद

कहते है उम्मीद लगाना अच्छी बात नहीं. में कहता हु यह बात सही नहीं.

 

उम्मीद

मेरी एक आदत बहुत बुरी है
मुझे उम्मीद रहती है
और कही न कही सबसे रहती है.

गलती उसकी नहीं जिससे उम्मीद हो
क्युकि उसे तो पता भी नहीं.
बस मेरे ही मन में दबी रहती है.

बहुत समझाता हु खुद को
उम्मीद खुद से कर दुसरो से नहीं.
पर क्या करू? हो जाती है,

सबको होती है, उम्मीद…

हर बात की कोई न कोई वजह जरूर होती है,
मेरी उम्मीद की भी है और
जो उसपे खरे नहीं उतरते उनके भी.

बस इतनी सी बात ही समझनी होती है.

यह ऐसा खेल है जो शायद ही कोई जीत पता है,
और शायद इसमें हारना ही सही है,
क्युकि उम्मीद वही लगा पता है
जिससे दुसरो की उम्मीदें जुडी है.

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

Burning Tip

Put it out!

 

 

 

I have been dragged a lot

And beaten.

A part of me got lost

Every time I was shaken.

I was set on fire

Because of some unfulfilled desire.

Life was cut short in the end.

In smoke we mend.

Even though I take lives,

I hold more hands than humans do.

But I ask you to not rely on me,

I am ash and will make you too.

I know I am dishonest

But I am also the one who stays.

Even I don’t like myself to be honest

Find something else and put me in the ashtray.

Together!

Just a few more days!

 

 

Never before have we faced this,

A pandemic that stunted all of us together.

Every one of us should note this,

We will go down in history together.

Men, Women, Children, I ask you all

Let us go down as victors.

Let us become that generation

Which the future will call healers.

 

Let us hide our pain behind a mask,

Let us clean our hands before we meet,

Let 6 feets of distance prevail in each task,

Let us reduce walking on the street.

Let us ensure proper hygiene,

Let us make sure to help the needy,

Let us keep every inch of our house clean,

Let us just be ready.

 

And soon one day we will walk,

Walk without a mask

Walk without any fear

Hug every friend

Hold every dear.

Eat without being scared

Work without any boundaries

Go on trips which we had planned

Make a fresh set of memories.

Con-Text

I know life is not all proses and rhymes.

At times it just exclaims!

Every step carries a question,

And every paragraph has its own frame.

Somehow we never run out of conjunctions,

Neither do we run short of scenes.

And no matter how hard we try for perfection,

We mess things up with that punctuation in between.

Despite all this we believe in someone else’s writings.

Knowing deep down that we all are the same, human beings.

So why does this happen?

While most of us keep documenting our lives,

Some write a poem with their feelings.

One Day!

I see glimmering lights,

Pictures being clicked.

Blissful nights,

And my wave doing tricks.

I see a grand welcome,

And smiles all perfect.

In the presence of loved ones,

An atmosphere just so correct.

I am a hero there,

And they are mine to care for.

After completing the day to day affair,

I came home through the door.

♦️Not all spotlights need a red carpet.

Sarcasm

Hey, do read/listen to it. I guarantee a smile/laughter.

 

Everything is in the state of Mayhem, 

Perhaps also the factory from where we get brain.

For if this is your idea of sane,

My dear, you are definitely on cocaine.

 

And I saw a few good men yesterday,

No not people, I meant the movie.

Oh, I am a man by the way,

But cannot include myself, it sounds cocky.

 

So lately, I have been eating healthy, 

And posting about it on social media.

Most of my posts are for the wealthy,

Because their recipes feels like reading encyclopedia.

 

I did a good thing today,

And didn’t do anything for the rest 364 days.

But… I clicked 365 pictures from every possible way,

Therefore, I did a good thing everyday.

 

My favourite TV show is the one I was told to watch,

Because it’s trending right now.

Who cares about the story?

Anyone who won’t watch it, is lame somehow.

 

I can go on and on about the joke we are,

But it won’t be fair as the apple doesn’t fall far.

Let me end this pretension of being sane,

Let’s face it, We all love being bizarre.

Anonymity

Ever noticed how people act when they think they are invisible?

We all have a fear of being judged.

For it can put a dent in our glory.

False glory if it can be smudged,

Introspect while I reveal the folly.

 

Fear is due to the identity,

One we call as our Name.

While in case of others’ we find serenity,

We are afraid to be associated with shame.

 

So we venture out as anonymous,

For without our Identity we lose that fear.

Ironic, same person with the same purpose,

Under anonymity decides to really appear.