To all the boys I’ve loved before…

Or so I think! Intriguing or cliché? Well! You got me. Approaching 30’s could get anyone pretty much sorted and insane at the same time. I mean, at-least I think so. Looking back 5-6 years ago, makes me wonder really. Did I actually imagine myself to be standing where I stand today? Honestly? No!

Why? Because, who thinks of their age in a planned manner? I obviously didn’t. God! I hope I’m not the only one too.

At first, I thought real hard as to where to begin with? The 100’s of dates I’ve been on? And write what? About the places I went to? The food I had? The types of men I came across? The several cocktails I tried? Or the fact that I nearly found ‘the one’? Or the fact that I almost never did?

What to write really? I’m still wondering!

And then I diverted my thought process to one thing that the world has forever fancied and continues to do so. LOVE!

My idea of love, coming across people I almost felt like being in love with and the works!

My life has been nothing less than a hailstorm on that front but now that half my life has already gone by, I’d say losing hope in people has been a constant but losing hope on love has never been the case. Guess, that’s how one should stick it out now, isn’t it?

Maybe that’s the way it should be, right? If not for everyone, then maybe just for me.Don’t say, I don’t have anything left as yet!

…. To be continued

Back in a tick!

Love,

N.

©️®️

The Puppy Love

Year 2008.

It was a transitional year. The first transitional year now that I think of it. We had moved in to a new house, our own from a rental one. I had just turned 15. For the first time, I had lost the only closest friend-circle, I ever truly felt a part of. A child’s heart for sure was broken and still adjusting to everything new. Being an introvert, suddenly being in a whole new environment changed a lot of things and oh my god! Adjusting to a new school, making new friends (like it was so easy), getting used to a new house (which still smelt of paint even after months), missing the old friends and having no media to connect through (had no phones really), father moving to abroad for work for 3 years & feeling lonely most of the times, all of it had me cornered.

I was still getting used to all of that and six months down the line, our newest family friends, my mum and I took a trip to Vaishno Devi.

October 2008.

Everything about that trip was nice and fun. The train journey, the constant laughter, the homely feeling, the care and affection, if I remember correctly, that family had me believe that there are men in the world who show love and care openly like it was gold. It was calming. I felt free. The jokes were non-stop. It was a big family. Uncles, aunties, kids, belonging to a nuclear family (in all senses possible), it was like a breath of fresh air. Amidst all the pitstop hopping, trekking and of course holler of good times, there came that lunch which honestly changed the entire course of my life (had no idea of it then). We were all hogging on to the food while this main man of the house asks for my hand for his youngest son from my mother. Don’t even remember about others, but I think my jaw literally dropped and then my eyes kinda’ squinted with utmost confusion. It was a laughter riot afterwards. For some reason, the entire trip became all about me and Rahul. Like, as if, we were betrothed. Funnily enough, he wasn’t a part of that trip, hence, it was all me who had to face, feel and react towards, no matter what was said or joked about. I think sometimes I’d run away, there were also times, when I’d shy away smiling, but mostly, I only wondered about who and how this Rahul is. And well, just like that, the five day’s trip ended on a good note. But again, I was a changed woman (girl, then). Because everything in my life was anew and not very amazing in my opinion, when something did feel alien yet nice, I think I let it carry me away with it. A few days later, we were again in the house of the very family except for the fact that I knew, I’ll see the boy everyone was teasing me about. And boy! Was I perspiring? Badly. But even with the perspiration I was blushing.

To be continued…

©NISHA MISHRA

“Another Day”

‘I think there are more notebooks,

that I have kept track of,

in my house that I reside in,’never touched once after,

buying & bringing them home.

but I know this…

every inch of my body does,

every bit of my heart does,

that one fine day,

I’d turn to them,

broken in pieces,

inside my gut feelings,

deep inside my mind,

thinking,

‘God!

How could I just leave these like this?

How pretty these little things are!’

Smiling to myself,

then, writing my own name on one of them,

only to leave them all over again,

scattered across the house.

To live another day ahead,

and another one like that,

Someday again,

if not soon after!”

©Nisha

Notebook & I

“My notebooks are in the corner of my room,

Staring at me, I guess,

How I distance myself,

When I should be exploding to them,

Telling them…

How everything is falling apart,

And I can only stand and watch,

Writing them….

Stories that I could have had,

But didn’t,

Couplets that I never written,

My notebooks are lying across me,

Like every other day,

Wondering…

What I’d do?

Will I get back to them?

Like I used to?

Or be oblivious again?

Like I have been for quite some time,

Like I don’t see them,

I don’t know them,

My notebooks are in the corner of my room,

Listening to my heart beating…

More loudly when all the noises stop,

Watching me struggle with sleep,

Every night,

Worrying probably…

That why won’t I go to them?

Why not vent?

Maybe a little, if not a lot,

My notebooks are lying across me,

Like every other day,

Wondering…

What I’d do?

Why won’t I do?

What I definitely should do!”

©Nisha

‘सिगड़ी’ (Cigar)

“अफ़सोस की सिगड़ी पर…

आग सेंकते में?

फिर ये ख़याल नहीं आता…

की मोम-सा मन,

पत्थर होगा?

या पैना जैसे कटार,

किसको काटे?

या किस को छिले?

ये पता लगने से पहले चोट…

जो ख़ुद को पहले लगती है हर बार?

तब आता है वो ख़याल,

मन का फेर ही उलटा है,

मोम रहे?

तो पिघले औरों पर पहले,

पत्थर बने?

तो पहले चोट ख़ुद खाए,

और कटार?

तो जाने कितनी जानें ले जाएँ…

क्या हुआ?

सिगड़ी आज भी जलाए बैठे हो?”

©️निशा मिश्रा

‘शायर’ (Poet)

“शहर सारा फिर सन्न-सा पड़ा है,

किसी सूने मकान जैसा,

इमारतें खोखली हैं सारी…

की रात के एक बजे हैं,

रास्ते हैं वीरान…

की घरों में लोग नींद ले रहे होंगे,

कल नया हफ़्ता कसने को तैयार जो होना है,

और कोई शायर कहीं…

सुर्ख़ आँखें किए बैठा हो शायद,

ये सोचकर बस की…

‘ये शहर जो सूना पड़ा है अभी सारा,

कल फिर इसमें शोर होगा,

भीड़ होगी,

मुझे घर जाना है मगर,

मैं मकान में इसके घुट रहा हुँ’!”

©️निशा मिश्रा

‘मुलाक़ात’ (Meeting)

“कभी आओगे न तुम मिलने मुझसे?

तो ख़ाली हाथ ही आना,

कुछ काग़ज़ मैं लाऊँगी,

एक पेन….

तुम अपनी शर्ट-पाकेट में रख लाना,

मिलकर ढेरों बातें करेंगे,

हंसेंगे और थोड़ा घूमेंगे,

तुम बताना…

क़िस्से मुझे अपने आफिस के,

मैं भी तुम्हें…

कहानियाँ कुछ सुनाऊँगी,

शाम को अलविदा लेने से पहले…

मत भूलना तुम…

अपना पेन मेरे हवाले करना,

मैं याद रखूँगी वो मुलाक़ात,

काग़ज़ में लिखकर फिर…

पते पर तुम्हारे?

सब कुरियर कराऊँगी,

सुनो?

मिलने आओगे न तुम मुझसे?”

(ख़याल: मुलाकात)

© निशा मिश्रा

‘जून की बारिश’ (June’s Rain)

“जून की बारिश की एक ऐसी शाम बीती…

बिना ख़बर किए जब तुम आ गए ऑफ़िस मुझे लेने,

याद भी था तुमको,

की दफ़्तर में कुछ दिनों से नासाज़-से हालात हैं,

और दो दिन से खाने से भी बिगड़े तालुकात हैं,

देख कर तुमको दिल खिल उठा ऐसे,

रोते बच्चे के आगे गुदगुदा भालू रख दिया हो जैसे,

मन जो भर आया कुछ कहते में,

तो गाड़ी चलाते में भी हाथ तुमने थाम लिया,

“नहीं खाया ना आज भी कुछ पूरा दिन?

सुनना तो होता नहीं तुमको?”

तुम्हारे डाँटने के बावजूद कैसे हँस दी मैं,

और पिघल भी गए कैसे तुम,

बारिश के बाद की भीगी सड़कों को देख कर उछली तो,

कैसे खिलखिला उठे तुम मुझे देख कर,

पकोड़े भी खाए साथ स्वाद वाले फ़िर,

जून की बारिश की एक ऐसी शाम भी बीती,

बिना ख़बर किए जब तुम आ गए ऑफ़िस मुझे लेने!

©️निशा मिश्रा

सिगरेट की डिबिया (Cigarette Box)

“एक अजीब-सा कायेदा खेलती है वो रोज़ाना,

फिकरों को हर रोज़ धुंए में उड़ाती है,

कहते कहते कुछ बिच में ही रुक जाती है,

कभी कोई नज़्म गुनगुनाती है,

कभी शायरी सुनाती है,

लिखा करती है कुछ चाय की चुस्की लेते हुए,

कभी चुपचाप बैठ जाती है,

एक अजीब-सा कायेदा है जो खलती है वो रोज़ाना,

हर हफ्ते एक सिगरेट की डिबिया मोल ले जाती है,

हर बार ही कोई नाम नया लिखती है उस पर,

खाली होती है जब डिबिया धुँआ होकर,

तो वो नाम, ख़याल उस नाम से जुड़ा कूड़े में देती है,

हंस कर फ़िर एक और नयी डिबिया मोल लेती है,

फेफड़ों में बेशक तार जमा हो उसके साहब…

मिजाज़ लेकिन दिल का सुलगा कर सुलझाना कोई उससे सीखे…

एक अजीब-सा कायेदा खेलती है वो रोज़ाना,

धुंए में हर चीज़ वो उडाती है,

नयी-सी हर रोज़ फ़िर हो जाती है,

मिजाज़-ऐ-तबियत बिगड़ जाए बेशक,

तस्सल्ली खुद को ऐब-ए-अदब से दिलाती है!

 

(ख़याल: सिगरेट की डिबिया)

©®निशा मिश्रा 🙂

 

शहर (CITY)

“जैसे पूरा शहर घुमा हो उसके साथ,

की जहां भी जाओ लगता है ऐसा…..

जैसे… यहाँ बैठे थे उसके साथ,

जैसे… वहां चाय पि थी साथ,

जैसे… उस जगह हाथ थामा था,

जैसे… इस जगह बातें की थी सारी रात,

जैसे पूरा शहर घुमा हो उसके साथ,

की जहां भी जाओ लगता है ऐसा…..

जैसे… ट्रैफिक में फंसे थे उस फ्लाईओवर के नीचे,

जैसे… रेडियो पे वो गाना हम दोनों की पसंद का बजा था उस शाम,

जैसे… ऐसा लगा था की पहले क्यूँ नहीं मिले हम कभी,

जैसे… ऐसा लग रहा है क्या फ़िर दुबारा मिलेंगे कहीं?

जैसे… कमी सी लगती है हर जगह बिन कहे से ही,

जैसे पूरा शहर घुमा हो उसके साथ,

की जहां भी जाओ लगता है ऐसा…..

जैसे… जो मिला था वो माँगा कभी था ही नहीं,

जैसे… जो मिला वो सोचा था ही नहीं कभी,

जैसे… कहानियां कितनी मानो अधूरी रह गयी,

जैसे… मालुम है की ये कहानी अब यूँ ही ख़तम हो गयी,

जैसे पूरा शहर घुमा हो उसके साथ,

की जहां भी जाओ आजकल लगता है ऐसे…

खैर! छोड़िये!

कोई ख़ास बात नहीं है वैसे!”

 

 

(ख़याल: शहर)

© निशा मिश्रा