Fan-PostHindi Poetry


1 (1)

ख़ामोशी में भीगी
वो तूफ़ानी काली रात थी।
न तुमने कुछ कह,
न मेरी बातों में कोई बात थी
काँपते शब्द,
तुम्हारे दिल में तैरते दर्द का एक पैग़ाम थे।
रुके कदम मेरे,
उस मोहब्बत का फ़रमान थे।
न तुम कुछ कह सके,
और मेरे लब भी कुछ शांत थे।
तड़प रहे थे हमारे दिल एक दूसरे के लिए,
क्या तुम, इस बात से अनजान थे?
पास आना था हमें,
पर और दूर हम जाते रहे।
बहुत कुछ कहना था हमें,
पर कुछ खामोशियाँ बढ़ाते रहे।
टूट कर इश्क़ किया,
पर टूटने से डरते थे।
नज़रें तो मिलाना चाहते थे,
पर वादे करने से मुकरते थे।
वो तूफ़ानी रात की हवाएं कुछ ऐसी थीं,
जो चाहती हमारा साथ थीं।
पर एक दूसरे का दर्द देखते देखते सुबह हो गयी।



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Short Stories

The boy who dared to dream!


All those wasted hopes are now all that’s left to hold on to!


“Dreams are for losers” stated the boy’s father in his very unique uncharacteristic manner. “What a lackluster he is” he murmured underneath his breath. SOCIETY has no place for losers! something that has been deemed into him since his gullible days. Extravaganzas like books or dreams were never meant for a prejudice soul like his. The only bit of passion he ever tasted are still clenched to those bookstore’s windows he spent countless hours looking at. one thing he is quiet definite about is that they hold some kind of majestic beauty that attracts all these contrasting personalities together. One thing his father was never short of was money, still why couldn’t he afford all these you ask?, well the answer is rather simple than you think, its because of his incorrigible attitude of course.

He tried to argue once “What’s the difference between a man a machine then dad?” crying out perilously. Enraged by his sons outcry he said “Is this how you speak to your father you inconsiderate fool!” “Is this why I spent hundreds and thousands of hard earned cash on you!”. Then he added more of his scuffing underwhelming words “Young man! dreams don’t get you warm food on the table or those cozy bed sheets where you lay your enormous carcass on.” Those hard stricken words shattered every bit of dream he ever dreamed off. Sobbing softly he left his father’s study filled with honors one can only dreamed off.

“Wealth and passion destroys a man!” a tradition his family loomed over for years now. Sitting in his coveted brandy shaded bedroom, he thought of his self-contaminating fate. His petition to dream was declined , sigh!. It’s not like he never got to read. The only bit of literature his subtle mind ever tasted are still captivated inside his now deceased text books. “There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve it’s the fear of failure”- Paulo Coelho. This quote! no one quiet understood how well his life allied to it. Now he just lays blankly in front of his delusive window panels and dreams a passion…………..


That someday he will be known as the boy dared to dream!

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Short Stories

That Boy In The Vest!



I was on a trip with my cousins to Kotdwara, Uttarakhand. The houses were constructed in traditional ways. There was a tap outside our cottage, which was devoid of the running water. It was January. We were just finishing off with the climax scene of the movie, and half of us already dozed off. About an hour later, I too started feeling drowsy and relaxed my legs under the warm cosy quilt, and fell asleep thinking about the summer of the plains. When the fresh green leaflets sacrifice their youth to the burning heat and turn brown, trees, heavily laden with summer’s full bloom of leaves seemed to be hanging their heads, no breeze to disturb the sun’s relentless, burning attack.
When the perspiration beaded one’s forehead and ran in rivelets down one’s face, even when one is standing still. When the ice -cream turns into flavoured liquid within seconds. That are the summers of my place.
I was busy dreaming about it when my dream was ruptured by the splashing sound of water which was coming from outside. I went to the window and opened it and saw a little, extremely fair-skinned boy of about 7-8 years, who was in his white vest and shorts. He was busy splashing water and was playing with the water which was running through the tap, situated outside.
I was still in my dizzy state.

“Hey boy!” What are you upto? Why are you playing with water in the middle of this icy night.”


The little boy looked at me, muttered some incomprehensible words and ran down the lane and disappeared, in the darkness of that chilled foggy night. After few seconds, when I came back to my consciousness, all I could feel on my tender fragile skin was freezing cold air. It was dark ,mystifying and the moon was sheltered by the murky looming clouds. I could smell the coldness that was penetrating through my blocked nose. I brought my hands closer and started rubbing them to generate the heat flow on my exposed skin. The shivery fog was stabbing through my sweater. Every surface, every blade, of grass and twig were growing like long ice crystals.

Then what was that little boy doing here in the midnight, splashing and playing with the icy cold water at the mid of December night, in the hills, and wearing only a vest and a pair of shorts.Doesn’t he feel the cold? Was it a living child or was it a spirit

I experienced a fit of goosebumps! The sound of silence around me was chilling and frighting in every possible way. I stood there frozen under the mid-night moon, fighting with the uncontrollable gush of questions, regarding the existence of THAT BOY IN THE VEST.

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Word Wizardry

She was like me but she wasn’t me.


You wished you could have me back but you had lost me in a glitch for like ever.

Too late because by the time you realised what I was to you, I was far far away.
Distance happened.

You left me stranded and when you looked back I was long gone and gone forever.

You tried to find me in every new person who crossed your way. You tried to find a face that reassembled mine, because every time when you thought about me there was only and only a regret of letting me go.

But one fine evening, while walking out of our favourite restaurant you happened to meet a girl.

Awed and stuck by the resemblance she had with me, you stood there with just a single thought.

The thought of having her and keeping her around.

And guess what? She became the companion you needed.

Maybe the glistening of her eyes were similar to mine or maybe the sound of laughter seemed way too familiar to be of a stranger.

Maybe it was the same rose berry fragrance like mine that you adored the most she put on or maybe you confused her words to be were too similar which I always spoke.

Her tangled and wavy hair and her habit of playing with them just like I did or Maybe she had kept alive the child in her just like me.

Maybe you didn’t realise but you had already started to fall for her.

Because she reminded you of someone whom you could never forget, she reminded you and kept reminding you every single time you looked her from top to toe only and only of Me.

Maybe she was just like me but remember she wasn’t me.

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Loving Someone who has been through hell


We all go through a lot, there is a phase we describe it as tough or hard times. The world takes a toll on our soft hearts, and yesterday’s trauma can become today’s depression. For the woman who has been to hell and back, finding someone capable of sharing in her tremendous love can be an even greater challenge than what sent her towards a point where she considered herself to be doomed.

Strength and patience are the order of the day for the person who is going to try to love a woman who’s been through the worst of her life. But if these qualities aren’t exemplified through your love, it’s not even worth beginning to attempt in the first place.

She’ll push you away. She’ll test you. She can be cruel and harsh, her emotions can be unpredictable — swaying like an ocean tide, before breaking into a wave that you never saw coming. It’s never her intentions to hurt people but on the contrary she has this fear inside her that takes a form of rage and comes out from her. For her every person who resembles or makes her nostalgic about her good times ultimately fall into a category of people who have hurt her before. Through all of this, you must love her anyway.





She’s been hurt before. She’s afraid that she’ll be hurt again. Explaining this to her won’t change anything — only love can do that.

Finding both commitment and aloneness difficult, the suffered woman is in a tenuous balance for most of her life. Though she’s not likely to admit to it and she will act strongly because that would show a weakness, she doesn’t want to admit, not even to herself. We should be aware of the facts that she is insecure. Sometimes, she’ll want you with her; other times, insist on your going away. Totally depends on her mood and thought process in mind.

But when she pushes you away, relax.

Notice that while floating in the ocean, no amount of struggle or fighting will break the waves; only time will do that. New experiences are difficult for her. Because she doesn’t have any frame of reference, she’s afraid her guard will be down, making her vulnerable to being hurt again. One day, she’ll be brave: Stepping into a moment of fear, you’ll see your love for her grow.

Share your love when she is scared. Make her comfortable.

She has been abandoned or ridiculed for her fears. Or worse, hurt further by people who would take advantage of those fears. She’s afraid of being herself, because she was vulnerable and harmed before.

Your love might feel inadequate to her.

Let it be. You don’t need to prove anything to her — only continue to love her, complete with her feelings of inadequacy. Maintain calm and show your love each time to prove her wrong. Believe in yourself and her condition. You got to respect her what she has gone through. Suffer along with her. But between you two, one person got to be strong to hold onto. Since, she Is weak it has to be you, no matter what.

Her love will be tenuous.

Often, she won’t be able to feel deeply what is in her own heart. It’s been cut too many times, and the scars haven’t yet healed. Her experiences with love have not been like the love you would give her. No matter what you do, she will base her all judgement of present of whatever happened with her in past.

She’s expecting you to leave. She’s expecting you to hurt her. Don’t let her conclude the sabotage of the relationship and love her anyway.

Whether she seeks to love you, or to hurt you, your love must be unwavering.

She seeks to be in control.

Sometimes, this can take the form of abuse aimed at you. Calmly walk away, and continue to love her anyway. When it’s easy, your love must be there. Doubly so when it’s harder.

You’ve chosen each other, for better or for worse.

And even when it’s looking worse, your love will carry you through.


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Hindi Poetry

Pyaar ke naam


तेरी जुल्फों का पहरा, तेरी आंखों सा गहरा ,
तेरी बातें नशीली , तेरा मासूम चेहरा ।
तू जो बाहों में आये, घड़ी रुक सी जाये ,
तेरा मुस्कुराना कयामत सा ढाये ।
तू है एक कली या लड़ी, फुलझड़ी है,
कोई देखे तुझको तो दिल को आफ़त बड़ी है।
तेरी फिक्र हर पल,तेरा ज़िक्र हरदम,
तेरे पास आने के लमहे तो हैं कम ।
मगर उन पलों को है रक्खा समेटे,
भीग जायेगी आंखें उन्हें पलकों में लेके ।
रहना खुशी से तू रहना जहां पर ,
करेगा दुआएें ये आशिक यहां पर ।

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Word Wizardry

There are a lot more stories buried under those grins!


The untold words of a modern day comedian!

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” – Oscar Wilde. Do you know who is the best when it comes to replicating everything? Oh! make a lucky guess, Will You? It’s us comedians.  Those overly friendly people with large grins and an abundance supply of one liners “oh boy” we are necessities. Those heartfelt one-liners you laugh blisteringly, are nothing  more than some words clustered together forming a conjecture, created from half heard tales, half written pages, and overly powerful words.


Do you ever witness the void that moment of silence in midst of all those chaos, yes that slow murmur of little laughs you hear, that us laughing at you. You see this glamorously lighted stage, framed up all for you. Are you puppets of our glittering show that’s been directed by us since the first step you took ?. That’s a question you aren’t allowed to ask dear, not under any circumstances. You know what comedians are, we are a bunch of depressed alcoholics here to entertain you on a play where we are both the victim and protagonist and its directed by those heavenly laughter’s on your graceful faces.


Now, my favorite kind of people clowns! those colorful poor souls you cannot  stop yourselves from hating. What have they possibly done? The amount of make-up they plunge in their faces, or those insignificant drop of tear that murmurs beneath those blissful eyes. Do you ever take notice of them! NO!. Have you ever given attention to those battered suits they were, those who has lost their temperament ages ago. Those unfortunate clowns are nothing more to you then a mean to laugh your hearts Have some modesty people!. Fun fact do you know what Angela Carter said “The child’s laughter is pure until he first laughs at a clown.” Guess you have already lost the greatest gift from god “Innocence”. Now the question is who is more unfortunate you or them?


Nevertheless, for now let’s just sit back and enjoy the  spectacle while it lasts, shall we?



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Word Wizardry

You! someone I don’t dream about anymore.


Those fascinations are now without a sovereign!

I always wanted to be a vibrant painting of life a lonely artist sketches, but irony of fate I became the artist instead. As they say “you don’t get what you want” do you? A light breeze of uncertainty was blowing relentlessly, whispering the sound of utter madness mixed with a soothing aroma of a new beginning. As it touched my face I felt a different kind of intimacy, the feeling was indescribably beautiful, poisoned with hope.

Even the lamppost seemed rather gloomy today, the moon has always faded it’s beauty. Does she hold a grudge towards the grand Empress of the sky?.  I hope it doesn’t. The small radiance that flickers from it has its own priceless value, which  she will realize with time. The wet pavements often felt like the best place to reminisce old thoughts and broken promises. Don’t go away by Oasis was playing on the back which made me vulnerable as the long forgotten memory lane reappeared in front of me, leaving me in a state which words cannot describe.

In an attempt to distract myself I looked upon the avenue, even the constantly overflowing avenue seemed lifeless, as the tracks kept changing  I lost track of time reminiscing about an undesired beauty who once used to rule my eternity. Nostalgia was starting to hungover me, fading glimpse of the life I left behind started to appear in front of me, those dreams are now long forgotten and no longer remembered. Yet they have some kind of specialty that keeps me attached to them. She has now been replaced by glistering opportunities and self agony.

Nevertheless, still a inappreciable part of me wants to believe that things will get back how they used to be, as time will amble me back to you. Maybe, only then we can start over again in a mystical garden where its bursting into life and the reason will be you.

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Word Wizardry

Why ? An open letter from your Lost Love




I have started wondering my existence. Why do even I exist when I am not even sure that do i still love you…

With infuriated red eyes and anger sweating down, i came home knowing that you weren’t in my life anymore. I cried. Cried, till my heart went thirsty and deprived. It felt like my soul  lost its way to home and lashed outside. I couldn’t forget the way you loved me, that pampering, those Cinderella rides.

Days passed, you are still stuck in my mind. The only difference that lies beside, that I think your kisses the more than your humble lies, have obliterated those feelings from my mind but not those wild bites, forgotten the day you lifted me in your arms,remembering your body just your body by my side. I wonder what has started to happen  , why could I not remember the love you poured on me,  why the only thing I want is your body. There was something in you, I felt when you laid beside me. The misty fragrance that still dwells in my mind,  those gentle fingers that played stories on my curves, that passion which pushed me and made my mind and body dance in the rage of glee.

Now, that we have dis owned each other, I still want..Not you, but your body, want to feel *your* manly hands feeding over my body. Want our biological equations to co relate somehow again.

But, I wonder..did I ever loved you or it was just my carnal desire to own your body?

From- your Lost love.

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Hindi Poetry

Dil lagakar aaye ho na


सुर्ख़ क्यों है ये आंखें तेरी?

क्या रात भर तुम सोये नहीं?

या फ़िर क्या ऐसा हुआ, की

चाह कर भी तुम रोये नहीं?
क्या कहना चाहती हैं निगाहें?

ज़ुबाँ पे यूँ ताले क्यों हैं?

अनकही, बयां करने में,

लफ़्ज़ों के लाले क्यों हैं?
बुझा, दबा सा क्यों है आज

जगमग सा रुख़सार तेरा?

चेहरे की वो हंसी कहाँ है?

क्यों है मन बेज़ार तेरा?
सच में ताक़त नहीं बची

या उठना ही नहीं चाहते हो?

दवा नहीं कोई, या घावों को

भरना ही नहीं चाहते हो?
झुकाये गर्दन, ज़मीं पे यूँ

क्यों नज़र गड़ाए बैठे हो?

ऐसे वीराने में,

किसकी आस लगाए बैठे हो?
हाथ सच में ख़ाली हैं

या इनमें है कोई नाकामी?

बड़े बेसुकूँ लगते हो?

क्यों है ये बेआरामी?
थक के चूर बैठे हो?

या फिर, तुम पगलाए हो क्या?

साँसे फूल सी क्यों रही हैं?

मीलों चल कर आये हो क्या?
मुस्कुराहट के अड्डे पे

क्यों मायूसी छाई है?

ये इतनी घबराहट तुम तक

कहां से चल कर आई है?
अब कह भी दो कहीं पे अपना

सर झुका कर आये हो न?

चुप्पी के दामन में कोई

बात छुपा कर लाये हो न?
तुम तो बिल्कुल ग़मगीनी का

मन बना कर आये हो न?

अब तो सच तुम कह ही दो

दिल लगा कर आये हो न?
– 🌹कार्तिक मिश्र🌹

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