Seclusion

 

It’s like wanting some air to breathe

and stay still for a minute or two.

Allow me to pass please

for I am tired to continue.

Where can I find that open ground

with no one lurking around

and scream at the top of my voice

without being question bound?

All this pretension is making me sick,

Every person has to offer some or the other trick

but all I want is to be left alone for a while

because I know what I need to fix.

My voice is only heard when it is answering 

to the questions I incur.

It is like I have stopped talking to myself now

because my space has been invaded somehow.

Let me hear my voice again

with utmost silence everywhere

and allow me to talk it out

because lately, seclusion is all that I can think about.

Leave me alone for a while, fellow dwellers.

Let me grieve for a while, fellow strangers.

Let me speak to the one in the mirror

and help that man in getting better.

Let me be.

In my mind I am not me

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.

 

Deluded Hatred

 

Resident of gospel,

Hatred does rent a room

in every domicile.

Contrary to novel

and one of the strongest emotions,

Is it really vile?

No love can be realised

without Hatred being present.

It does not have to be hostile.

Perhaps a demarcation of personalities,

it safeguards an individual.

Just like every house has boundaries,

It maintains the much needed distance

between the better and the lesser.

 

Maybe Hatred was created to keep you away from someone who would make you miserable. Maybe it is not hostile. Maybe it does not have to be hostile. Maybe it is just a boundary.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

Can I?

 

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.

क्या तुमने वह बात सुनी

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.

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

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

Nightly Fiasco

♦ Hey, it’s almost night time here. Ready for those post 2 a.m. thoughts?

 

As the Sun settles down,

It takes away a part of us.

The part which keeps us sound,

The part which we show to the world.

And when the Moon takes the sky,

It showers a light on us.

Silver light which brings out something…

Something which we don’t discuss.

Night time does have this affect,

And these thoughts are the most private ones.

But when it starts to overwhelm,

Close your eyes and end the pretense.

Eventually sleep will engulf your realm

And in dreams these thoughts will make sense.

If they don’t, tell yourself : “It was just a dream.”

 

 

Deafening

There are days when I just don’t listen

To anything that is going around.

All I feel is that something is missing,

Something which must be found.

And as I try to end the search,

I simply keep on finding

My own unfinished thoughts

Whose sound has been deafening.

 

 

~ If you have ever felt the same, tell me about it.