Tag Archives: Life

Tales of woe

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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.

The Play

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One day they shall all be forgotten.

Who, What, When, Where will all become trivial.

Same stories will repeat themselves

for the new actors to reveal

and think of themselves as pivotal.

Old actors will watch from a distance

and critique as the new ones make mistakes,

But so did they…

Past comes back in a way.

Yet the audience will applaud

and throw roses for the same play

because that is their part

and to act is actor’s.

In the end it is all just a play.

आइना

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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.

Final showdown

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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

खेल

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एक खेल खेला करते थे हम.
खेल के कुछ नियम हुआ करते थे.
जीत और हार से टटोलते थे मन
छोटी छोटी बातो पे झगड़ा करते थे.
काफी नोक झोक हुआ करती थी
लड़ाईया भी हुआ करती थी
पर पता है उन सबके बाद भी
खेल की गाडी नहीं रूकती थी.
सब कुछ भूल के अगले दिन फिरसे एक खेल खेला करते थे हम.

अब खेलने के दिन गए शायद
नियम के बंधन भी मिट गए शायद
रोज़ रोज़ मिलना भी काम हो गया शायद
पार छोटी छोटी बातो में झगडे आज भी होते है
और फिरसे वह दो दोस्त साथ में कभी नहीं खेलते है.
शायद समझदार बनते बनते समझ कम हो जाती है,
दोस्ती बिना किसी बात के कहानी बन के रह जाती है,
जो बात बचपन में पता थी आज नहीं समझ आती है,
सिर्फ खेल बदला है, पर हम तो आज भी वही साथी है.

Post its on my wall

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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.

Oblivious

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I never knew that I would become

This person that I am today.

Which makes me wonder,

How did I come all this way?

I took decisions and that paved my path.

But my decisions were as per situations,

Wrong or Right: the aftermath.

Situations were life’s creations.

Life just kept on happening

While I tried to catch up.

I have been trailing since the beginning,

And this chase I can never give up.

So how did I come all this way?

Perhaps I was too busy running.

Funny, we don’t remember most of our today,

But we plan for the next one which is coming.

I still do not know how did I become,

The person I am today.

संतुलन

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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.

Con-Text

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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.

Finding

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Few years back I had set out to find

Something.

I found it but

It didn’t change anything.

Why would it?

I just wanted to find it

And never meant to understand

The purpose and the use.

Tomorrow I am setting out to find

Something.

I hope this time…