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To You, My Childhood (A Poem)

‘Twas a time when there was no YouTube after 11:00 P.M.
And on holidays, silence until 8:00.
I sat on my little red chair
The Ramayan on Doordarshan
with elders, discussing the story
Behind the incarnation.
I waited for Saturdays and Sundays
To watch
the children program
Which made me stick to the screen,
don’t fascinate me anymore.

We also had a radio which brought us
Songs of Lata ji and stories of Manto,
What we call now 50s song but when I listened
Late at night from the radio beside my grandpa,
I heard Lata, Kishore and sometimes
Manna Dey sing Chunariya katati jaye,
Closing lines of which
I see as today’s truth.
It was just a song
Back then.

Though being a Z generation kid,
My childhood was
Filled with black and whites
And classics.
Though, I didn’t enjoy Ramayan.
Daily soaps still not attract me.
My grandpa’s radio made me
Love the lyrics of 50s
Whose meaning I didn’t understand as a child.

I miss the world where all I knew
Was running upstairs
On power cuts at night.
I miss the world where my grandma revealed
How stars told them the time
Before clocks came.

Now I know,
Some part of you remain
The way it was
As a child.
No matter how you change
Your likes or dislikes
For the sake of this world,
For I still hear Ek pyar ka nagma
And what we call trending songs
Would be my last resort.

About the Poem “To you, My Childhood”

This poem is not just a nostalgia. It’s actually a measurement of change. What we used to enjoy as a song, is now a reality.

In the second stanza, I have mentioned Manna Dey’s song.

“Sansar me tere loot machi
Aur jaan ke pad gaye lale
Ab rok janam ki chakki re
Sanasar chalane wale
Kaal pada hai roti ka aur
Duniya badhati jaye..”
Image credit- Pixabay

If you can see, this is actually what we see today.

Another theme of this poem is of course nostalgia. Everyone of us miss the innocent days of childhood.

Introducing my grandma in the poem was meant to show experience. Even though they didn’t know as much as we know today, their experience made them rich.

I still hear Ek pyar ka nagma
And what we call trending songs
Would be my last resort.
Image credit- Pixabay

Then the closing stanzas of my poem are dedicated to another aspect. The environment that we experience in our childhood has an everlasting effect.

That was all I had to say about this poem. You can’t find any rhyme or meter today, for it has been written in free verse.

Again I would like you dig out a new meaning of the lines on your own. Remember your childhood days. Look around and see what has changed. Ask yourself, how your childhood world has influenced your present.

Hope you like it. Subscribe to our Blog for more poems. If you find the poem relatable to your childhood, let me know in the comments🙂

Mistella ❤️

Two Blackish Fellows (A Poem)

Two blackish fellows on the canvas
Rest like a tiger–
You may have met them–
remember their fire?

They turn the canvas into rock–
A stairway spotted often–
And never shifts to shock
It’s respondent, until a knock–

They like to play
On the canvas of their host–
Yet when a teenager, on my way–
I painted my canvas each day,
Ignoring the presence of these blackish fellows–
But now when they blink, my heart swallows
The wind they exhaust.

The baptism they do
With their washing hands–
My heart,
Covering its head–
Feels the God’s face.

Several of such fellows
I know, black, brown–
All of them renown.
But none of their host
Can make me lift my hands–
And none can transport
My ecstasy, which expands–
With the white canvas,
every day, I see.

About the Poem ” Two Blackish Fellows”

Well you may find it a bit difficult to be understood. So I will try to make it little easier.

Let’s forget who the speaker is, a male or a female. All you need to do is know the meaning of the symbols that I have used in today’s poem.

So, “blackish fellows” are two eyes on the “canvas“. This canvas is of course a face because they are resting on it like a “tiger”.

There are some symbols whose inferences are from the Bible. That’s why it’s my duty to make them clear. But while doing this, I again won’t explain the whole poem! This is because I want you to interpret it your self. You should relate it your life.

Okay, I will go stanza by stanza:

Stanza 1
Fire – a pure spirit.

Stanza 2
Rock – symbolizes stability.
Stairway – symbolizes a path to reach god.

Stanza 3
Wind – again symbolizes a pure spirit like fire.

Stanza 4
Baptism – symbol of salvation.
Washing hands – symbolizes innocence.
Covering head – symbolizes submission or compelling to obey.
God’s face – a symbol of the presence of divine powers.

Stanza 5
Lift hands – a state of doing prayer or a “namaskar” position out of respect (in this context).

Image credit- Pixabay
Two blackish fellows on the canvas
Rest like a tiger–

Search for the romance

These were the biblical symbols which I have used today. I know this poem is not written in simple language. But if poems were simple, anybody can take a pen and make a rhyme. Because of this reason, I wanted to test whether I can go beyond the rhymes.

That’s why I thought to do something different with my poem today. Hope you find a meaning which is relatable to you. It’s because you can find a new aspect of my work.

By the way, let me tell you what if you can relate it. You’re gonna get a quite romantic imagery of a person. For instance, if you have a loved one, then you can also imagine the face of that person.

Alright readers, as I have tried my best to explain the symbols, so rest is up to you!

Thanks for reading. Subscribe for more poems in future. Comment to let me know how was my new attempt, because your opinion means a lot:)

Mistella ❤️

Life of a Modern Man (A Poetry)

Sunrise through the curtain,
The world, yawning to a life.
Though the day is uncertain,
Its night will cut like a knife.

This pencil which draws mansions,
Went to sleep at five.
Now it’s seven and no pretensions
Will help until it stays alive.

These papers were hurt badly
Till the sharpness turned blunt,
And now the wounds are staring sadly,
For today, the rest parts will be hunt.

These walls have forgotten my face,
They ran to bite me last night.
But I don’t dare to give up this race,
Though my home is loosing my sight.

Some close ones are far
Waiting for my welcome.
But my life is a fading star,
Oh! The sun is about to come.

Image credit- Pixabay
My life is like a fading star,
Oh! The sun is about to come.

About the Poem “Life of a Modern Man”

The poem is a satire on modern life. We work till morning, stay awake at night. Modern men has forgotten to live, we just exist.

I have started the poem with a man who is about to welcome a new day. But like most of us, he also hates mornings. He gives examples of the hardships of pencil and paper. But actually, he indirectly expresses his own problems.

I’ve ended the poem with a stanza where the man is expressing himself. The man says that his loved ones are very far. He can’t go back to his home because he lacks the courage. Modern men dare not give up the race.

I think I am explaining too much. It will make you loose interest in the lines. But I must explain the closing line.

This man was expressing his grief. But suddenly, he remembers that it’s late again and the morning is about to come.

Being modern men, we all live like this. We neither dare to take risk, nor can we enjoy the hardships. Don’t you think so?

Hope you enjoyed these lines. For more poems, subscribe to the blog. And let me know through the comments what do you think about the modern world.

Mistella ❤️

Taking part in d’verse open link night💐

You Never Know (A Poetry)

You never know when the sun
Hides itself behind the clouds,
You never know which morning will turn
Into a day of assembled shrouds.

Though you can see the sky
Changing colours each parting day,
You may not ask a “why”
And run out of all your gay.

Like the day parting from its night,
You may have to part your ways,
Every memory looses its sight,
And you may also loose these days.

You may have to burst these bonds,
Which cold human hands have wrought,
And this hollow chain absconds
Away, to let you meet again, in thought.

You never know how it may end,
All the sparks may fade
When the divine will send
A freedom from all this cage.
You never know you see dreams being made,
Too early, too late..
You never know at which age.

Picture credits- Pixabay

About the Poem “You Never know”

Coming to the poem, you might have found that its tone is quite pessimistic at the beginning. But then, I have tried to make it hopeful in the end.

I have ended it with a reference to death. I will tell you why. This is because death is not just a loss of life, but a freedom. We are living in a cage of this mortal world and death is the freedom which all of us deserve.

I won’t explain the whole poem line by line. I want you to interpret it your own way. It may happen that what I was thinking while writing is just one aspect. You may find some other meaning too. I mean the other aspect of my poem.

Let me know in the comments how did you interpret these lines. Let me know what meaning did you conclude:)

Stay tuned for more poetries, will be back with a new one soon!!

Thanks for reading, share and subscribe if you enjoyed the poem.


Mistella 🙂

Taking part in d’verse open link night💐

Human or Woman?

Lonesome, thoughtless, quitely I sit,
Away- away from your dazzling world.
Rituals you perform and aside, the lakshmi is quit
With her legs and eyebrows, all curled.

Lakshmi for a father,
Parvati for a husband,
Durga for the scoundrels,
Show me what more you dare to see,
Or is that all you expect of me?

When the lakshmi bleeds,
Aside she sits,
When the parvati needs,
Beside, but away he sleeps,
So when the durga wants to be seen,
She recalls how she has been
brought up all this while,
Around her people but often in exile.

And alas!
No durga comes out,
But suddenly,
A voice is heard- “Why didn’t you shout?”

When did I ask you
To make a lakshmi, parvati or durga out of me?
No, none of them do I desire to be,
All I want of you
Is to see a “human” inside me.

Picture credits-Pixabay

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Best Poem Of Harivansh Rai Bachchan- the last tribute

This day is one of the most memorable days in hindi literature. Harivansh Rai Bachchan was born today. So here we pay him a loving tribute.

INDIA – AUGUST 06: Harivansh Rai Bachchan, Poet and Journalist, Father of Amitabh Bachchan, Actor in Hindi Films sitting in a Wheelchair ( Bollywood, Profile ) (Photo by Fawzan Husain/The India Today Group/Getty Images)

With deep respect and love, we are going to post our last poem of Harivansh Rai Bachchan.

“तुम तूफान समझ पाओगे?”

So here it goes:

गीले बादल, पीले रजकण,

सूखे पत्ते, रूखे तृण घन
लेकर चलता करता ‘हरहर’–इसका गान समझ पाओगे?
तुम तूफान समझ पाओगे?

गंध-भरा यह मंद पवन था,
लहराता इससे मधुवन था,
सहसा इसका टूट गया जो स्वप्न महान, समझ पाओगे?
तुम तूफान समझ पाओगे?

तोड़-मरोड़ विटप-लतिकाएँ,
नोच-खसोट कुसुम-कलिकाएँ,
जाता है अज्ञात दिशा को! हटो विहंगम, उड़ जाओगे!
तुम तूफान समझ पाओगे?

English Translation:

Wet clouds, yellow dust,

Dry leaves, coarse straw cube,

I carry along- would you take in its rhythm?

Would you comprehend the storm?

Full of dust, this air was,

Blowing due to which, the Garden was,

Suddenly its great dream broke, would you understand it?

Would you comprehend the storm?

Tweaking and turning, the new branches,

Tinching its flowers and buds,

Goes to an unknown direction! Be aside, bird, you will fly!

Would you comprehend the storm?

Thanks a lot for reading. We hope you like our posts and articles. We’ll keep trying to bring more interesting topics which you would hopefully enjoy reading.

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Best Poems Of Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Harivansh Rai Bachchan and his works are immortal. So here we are back with an another poem.

This poem is so much inspirational. You would start loving a tougher path after you read the great poet, Harivansh Rai Bachchan’s “Agneepath”.

So shall we begin??

Ok then, here we go!!


वृक्ष हों भले खड़े,
हों घने, हों बड़े,
एक पत्र छाँह भी
मांग मत! मांग मत! मांग मत!
अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ!

तू न थकेगा कभी,
तू न थमेगा कभी,
तू न मुड़ेगा कभी,
कर शपथ! कर शपथ! कर शपथ!
अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ!

यह महान दृश्य है,
चल रहा मनुष्य है,
अश्रु, स्वेद, रक्त से
लथ-पथ, लथ-पथ, लथ-पथ,
अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ! अग्निपथ!

Even if a number of trees sarround you,
Dense, tall, let them be,
Even for the shade of a single leaf,
Beg not, beseech not, ask not!
The path of fire you will choose! That path of fire! Yes, The Path of Fire!

You won’t ever get tired,
You won’t ever stop,
You won’t ever turn back,
Take this oath!
Hold this oath!
Infuse this oath!
And cover the Path of Fire!
That path of fire! Yes, The Path of Fire!

It’s a legendary view,
To behold the man walking ,
In tears, sweat and blood,
Soaked, dipped, immersed;
Choosing the Path of fire!
That path of fire!
Yes, The Path of Fire!

Thanks for reading. We’ll be back tomorrow with a new work of Harivansh Rai Bachchan. Till then, stay curious and be inspired.


Best Poems Of Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Harivansh Rai Bachchan will be remembered at his day in the upcoming week. So why not celebrate a week!!

Here’s something different that we are going to begin. Yes!! A tribute to the revolutionary creations of Bacchan.

How Will It Go

The Padma Bhushan winner poet, Harivansh Rai Bachchan, will celebrate 121st year of his journey of his arrival on the earth. This day, 27th November is not very far.

So we’ve decided to dedicate this week to Harivansh Rai Bachchan and his works. Accordingly, we are going to post atleast one poem from his creations everyday. However, we will try to post more than that, too!!

And yes, your comfort means a lot to us. So we’ll try to provide english translation too. Though not authentic, but still we hope you get the essence anyhow. Language can’t be a barrier, so you’ve options!! Just get the meaning in any language you find yourself comfortable with.

Time To Begin

Today, we’ll begin with one of his poems ie; “जो बीत गई सो बात गई” or “Bygones Be Bygones”.

Harivansh Rai Bachchan

Image source_Google

जो बीत गई सो बात गई

जीवन में एक सितारा था
माना वह बेहद प्यारा था
वह डूब गया तो डूब गया
अम्बर के आनन को देखो
कितने इसके तारे टूटे
कितने इसके प्यारे छूटे
जो छूट गए फिर कहाँ मिले
पर बोलो टूटे तारों पर
कब अम्बर शोक मनाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई

जीवन में वह था एक कुसुम
थे उसपर नित्य निछावर तुम
वह सूख गया तो सूख गया
मधुवन की छाती को देखो
सूखी कितनी इसकी कलियाँ
मुर्झाई कितनी वल्लरियाँ
जो मुर्झाई फिर कहाँ खिली
पर बोलो सूखे फूलों पर
कब मधुवन शोर मचाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई

जीवन में मधु का प्याला था
तुमने तन मन दे डाला था
वह टूट गया तो टूट गया
मदिरालय का आँगन देखो
कितने प्याले हिल जाते हैं
गिर मिट्टी में मिल जाते हैं
जो गिरते हैं कब उठतें हैं
पर बोलो टूटे प्यालों पर
कब मदिरालय पछताता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई

मृदु मिटटी के हैं बने हुए
मधु घट फूटा ही करते हैं
लघु जीवन लेकर आए हैं
प्याले टूटा ही करते हैं
फिर भी मदिरालय के अन्दर 
मधु के घट हैं मधु प्याले हैं
जो मादकता के मारे हैं
वे मधु लूटा ही करते हैं
वह कच्चा पीने वाला है
जिसकी ममता घट प्यालों पर
जो सच्चे मधु से जला हुआ
कब रोता है चिल्लाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई||

English Translation

Bygones be bygones!

There was a star in life,
It was very close, I agree,
If it faded, let it be,
look at the delight of the sky,
Shot away, many of it’s stars,
Left away, many of it’s adored ones,
who were left, never did they meet,
But when does the sky mourns over the fallen stars!
Bygones be bygones!

There was a flower in life,
You offered yourself everyday to it,
If it dried, let it be,
look at the trunk of the garden,
Dried, many of its buds,
Shriveled up, many of its branches,
those who dried, never did they bloom again,
but when does the garden shriek over the dried flowers!
Bygones be bygones!

A glass of wine was there in life,
You offered your body and soul to it,
If it has broken, let it be,
Look at the courtyard of the winehouse,
many glasses get shaken up,
fell away and are taken up,
those who fell, never did they stand again,
but when does the winehouse repent over those glasses!
Bygones be bygones!

Wine jars are made up of soft mud,
bound to crack, are they,
Arrived with a short life,
Glasses are bound to break,
Still there’re jars inside,
jars are there, glasses are there,
those, spoiled with narcotism,
prey upon the wine,
Addicted, raw is he,
whose affection ends to the glasses,
but, he, who loves the wine,
When does he cry, when does he whine!
Bygones be bygones!

Thanks for reading and stay tuned for upcoming Poems Of Harivansh Rai Bachchan.

To read our Poetries, visit Poetry category and for more, check out the topics we’ve covered so far.


If I will Ever Have A Son (A Poetry)

Mother and son


If I’ll ever have a son,
I’ll teach him how to look… How to look at a girl of his class, how to talk to her…
I’ll teach him how to listen… How to listen to her when she lashes out on being hurt, how to protect her even though she’s no one to him..

But I’ll teach him the meaning of “Feminism”, its overuse and misuse.. Which can trap him from all around without any fault. He’ll defend and justify himself for sure, I believe. But I want him to teach, that girl, that lady, the true sentiment of “Feminism”.

Yes, I won’t trust him blindly. But I’ll tell him to search for his mom, whenever he finds himself, trapped in an unworthy shackle of compromises. “My little worrior”, I’ll tell him, “you’re taught and backed by two real fighters, who’ve defeated the fake world of lies…” So he doesn’t need to accept someone, who doesn’t value his sacrifices. He’ll always find a door, opening to the lap of his mom and arms of his dad, sitting on the same old chair, to hug him and make him sleep, no matter how far his under-valued sacrifices have taken him.

I’ll let him know, the struggle of his life will go on forever. But he, like his father, has been gifted with that extra-zeal, which he, unlike his father, needs to showcase, everytime his knees touch the ground of failure.

And over all these, I won’t stop him, if he starts trusting a woman other than his mom. I won’t stop him.. if he starts loving her more than his mom. I believe, he’ll glorify his mom and her teachings in the heart of his lady love. And I believe, a day will come when that pretty girl will cry more than my ‘young worrior’, when her husband’s mom will die..

I won’t stop him from smoking.  But I will tell him that “the smoke you inhale is far more killing to me than that you exhale”.. I will tell him that his mom’s eyes have turned watery and he would believe it to be due to the smoke.  So neither would he ever be able to inhale nor exhale the smoke. Now how would he learn to smoke? No, his father is naive here!!

And yes, I am going to make it clear to him that “your fighter mom and dad won’t come to fight for you”, when the fault is from his side.

The other meaning he will be taught is of “Trust”.. I will teach him not to trust so easily.. “but when a girl trusts you my son”, he is supposed to give it all back to her, with an icing of a layer of extra love and care, as she might have also been taught the same..

I will let him know how it feels when your trust is broken, how it burns you from inside.. So I won’t allow him to carry any lighter inside his pocket. But “my boy”.. I will tell him,”.. you are supposed to make that mutual trust, a ladder to success.” I will teach him to make it happen for his lady, make it happen for his old girlfriend, his mom.. “My young  Warrior, you are entrusted with expectations of the three most beautiful shackles of your life, you are the Rising Sun for them.. Your father, the old ‘you’.. your mom, your old-girlfriend who will always love you.. and your lady love, your to be wife.. are awaiting you at every step you take towards your goal.”

So if I will ever have a son I will dance with him, till I could stand on my feet.. and after that I will watch him dancing with his lady love, sitting and smiling, holding the hands of his father, right there, on the chair, which he will gift us at our silver jubilee..

And at last.. I will tell him a secret… “My boy”, I’ll let him know “When you ever go out of words, try to make rhymes.. And after three stanzas, you’ll find all those lost words on the paper, arranged beautifully… And the world will call it a “Poetry”.. but only you’ll know that it’s a game of hide and seek with the words you never spoke…”

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Who Am I? (A Poetry)

No, I’m not a storyteller,
No, I’m not at all a seller.
I’m a crafter,
I’m a creater.
I craft my stories,
I craft glories.

I literally don’t sigh
After dreaming too high.
But I do get tired
When my stories get fired.

I frequently get shocked
When my glories get blocked
By the hem that I never stitched,
As if I’m walking alone, completely pissed.

Yes, I design my work
Which sometimes, hit me like jerk.
But neither ‘m I, a sudden fire,
Nor do I wish to be called a liar.

I never knew any rhythm,
But can craft sitting with ’em.
I never saw the point where the sky and the earth meets,
But this imagination lends me my beats.

No, I’m not a gard’ner,
No, I’m not a pardner.
I’m a sweetener,
I’m an aromate.
I sweeten the words,
I aromatize their buds.
But neither do I taste them,
Nor do I dare to claim them.

I hardly find pleasure,
Even though gifted with treasure.
But I do feel praised
When my words are raised.

I suddenly get knocked,
For I often get mocked.
But I wake up every morning
As if “yesterday” was my last warning.

Yes, I live these words,
Which often bruise me like swords.
But neither ‘m I an orange of my gard’n,
Nor do I wish them to beg pardon.

I never heard of rhymes,
But can make them over into chimes.
I never wished to sketch myself in the stories,
But couldn’t find an alternate to live those glories.

No, I’m none of these,
No, I’m not one among this bunch of keys.
Yes, I am none,
Probably, someone of my own.
But neither do I find myself,
Nor do I wish to be discovered by someone else.

So dear readers, you really don’t need to find yourself. You need to discover yourself. And you don’t need any other support to do that. You are enough to discover and explore your possibilities.

“Your mirror lies Inside you”. Right??

Loads of love, stay tunned for more posts and articles.

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