Echoes of Silence

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Consuming Loneliness

How do we define loneliness without making an assumption of being happy?
Is it the extraordinary despair that takes over us?
Or the feeling that we would lose our minds any moment now?
Loneliness is defined with the idea of consumption
When despair consumes your light and there is no place to run,
When we move towards the darkness willingly without consideration of the sun,
It is then loneliness consumes us
It is then there is no way out

– Nishtha Pandey

Search For The Shore

What is this exhaustion?
Desperation for love and more
Calling out to random strangers
Asking to be my lover and so
What is this perpetual sadness?
Masquerading feeling that are true
Showing off the false glamour
All so I could be accepted a little through
Why have I turned into a ghost?
Falling from one failure to another
Why can’t I wander on my own
With no one to hold me back and frown
When did all the tables turn
Leaving me out on my own
Why did the lust for sea grow so much
That I refused to believe in my soul anymore
All the while I blamed others
Destiny, lovers and cold
When the real villain was me all the while
And I sold my soul in search for the shore

– Nishtha Pandey

Questions and Heartbreak

I wonder, how many times it might have been
To be cried without being seen
A thirst quenched yet
A tear let out, subtle
Somewhere it may seem

Like we were meant to be
Why does it have to end then?
Why does it have to hurt?
Have I chose this life on purpose?
Or have the I chose to simply exist on surface?
With questions just as many
Would the limited answers suffice?
Will this be another heartbreak?
Or will we survive?

It was only until for a while,
A couple of hours of togetherness,
Expectations weighed heavier on one end,
And everything began to fail
The questions were answered in a matter of hours
Scared from love, he devoured
The answer was Goodbye, an easy way out
There lies another heartbreak
And days of left out.

Working on Saturdays

She liked working on Saturdays
The silence had a different charm under those lights
No gossiping near the water cooler
Long cigarette breaks and everything would seem all right
A few souls here and there would cross her way
Some on the floor, some would walk past her or sway
Some she knew by the face, others, she can’t really say
Saturdays would feel like a slow mundane world in another paradise she would like to be
While others cursed the day and waited to get home
She spent the day in her cubicle making new friends of wandering ghosts

– Nishtha Pandey

Love Once Conquered

There is a unique sadness on her face
It’s broken, no one can fix it
She puts on a mask and pretend to not care
Nobody understands the trouble she has been suffixed with

She wears her arrogance as an armour
Why show the world she is hurt?
When she can easily pretend to have no emotions
A cloak of insanity she owns

Once bitten twice shy
She falls in love with her own shades at times
And when asked about the reason of her destruction
She smiles and says its because it pleases her

Love once conquered all she had
A fallen victim she was named
Then the storm came to change her course
A stone hearted person she became and it was all she chose

Nishtha Pandey

Whiskey Rains

The rains entered her home without a knock
Droplets of fire in their eyes, drenched in doubt
Piles of cigarettes lay besides her bed
And picture of oceans and flames in eternity being wed
Everyone witnessed her solitude
No one said a word or let out a sigh on this fortitude
It was only whiskey, that was brave enough
To wake up in the middle of the night and make her laugh
She cradled the bottle of whiskey in her lap
Like a bundle of joy looking to be grabbed
The rains, the fire all stood still
As whiskey absorbed her soul and named her ‘his’

– Nishtha Pandey

Acceptance or Denial?

All our lives we have been told to accept things as the way they are given to us, the rules of families, social norms, shortcomings of our loved ones or even ourselves. We have been given a strict set of codes to abide by or die, but when has it become acceptable to live an individual’s life that is just as symmetrical to the other ones in the crowd. Do we even have any individuality left or have we become the part of the crowd that screams of individuality in a sheep herd? Acceptance plays an important role in our lives, we want our families to accept us, even if they are being rebelled against, we want our social circle to accept us, even if we try and defame them as soon as they turn their backs on us. We plead for acceptance from our lovers, when in reality we can hardly ever look up in the mirror and accept ourselves.

Relationships are the most important part of someone’s lives, at the very least they are of mine. Yet, when it comes to loving someone, why do we beg to and fro for the other person to accept our love and reciprocate in the same intensity? Is it because we strategically plan the intensity of love before falling in love with someone one or is it because love can never truly be measured or planned upon. When it comes to love, are we willing to compensate the shortcomings of our partners by filling in by our own or are we choosing to be in denial?

In the world where find a partner is hard enough, are we creating one by turning the blind eye on the wrong ones for the sake of ‘love’? Are we accepting the shortcomings of others or living in denial of our own?

The Happy Place

When the wind blow past the strands of hair whilst on the merry-go-round
The happy place was asking to be found
When the daylight smeared and the twilight came around
A place of serenity was conquered and crowned
When they said to rationalize free thinking,
Or choose between religious afternoon and a lustful evening
A wandering desire came along

The entrapment grew along the age, the sun and the moon stayed there
Watching the rage
As the memoirs of the happy place disappeared
And the mournful mundane living gathered
It was all barren, until that moment
When the lust for adventure turned prudent
And the journey to defy the vicar began

A long walk under with the crescent moon and a splendid sun
Burned and loathed in jealousy as the adventure turned into fun
Against the rules of sanity and pride
A journey began where these rules were unable to abide
The journey to the happy place it was called
An unchaste heaven and surreal to be mound
A momentary contentment and then the happy place was lost and found

– Nishtha Pandey

Remembrance of Self

This has always been hard, leaving that is. Confessing, living. Over the time, I have learnt to be strong and stagnant to face my fears, people and monotony. But there are times when my passion for writing burns to ashes in front of my eyes and I am so helpless, so numb to make a move to save it. This past year was an unwelcomed change in my ‘not-so-happening’ life. A new job, new people, old habits and older expectations are a really bad combination if I can say so. I am an extremely bad judge of character which is why I would not say anything about the people I interact with. But rather, let me just rant about myself, my problems, my issues – just me.

The state of mind I am in currently, I could easily come across as suicidal. The level of intoxication I do to escape the simplest task that requires any sane interaction or action for that matter is disturbing. Even then, the feeling of being drowned is taking over me completely. They say, happiness is a state of mind, why do we often wander away from that ‘state of mind’ then? These days, nothing seems to be making me happier. Not the company of people around me, not the intoxication I am obliged to take, not even my flaming out love for writing.

Amidst of all this, I stumbled upon some of my previous writings. These were dated to the time when I wasn’t even aware that I could use words to not only defy my existence but also save it. The times where I only used words to prove my superiority over my own silliness. The times where innocence was scattered all around like snow on the Christmas morning. Innocent childhood. I remember the times where innocence was what we craved and got. Today, I couldn’t care less about innocence. Today, it has all become about my needs, my wants, my wishes, my disappointments.

Pretty soon I will be 20 and when I look back to see what have I done all these years, I will be extremely crestfallen.  Yet, here I stand, alive, secluded and intoxicated. Sometimes, it’s easier to find a person to cure than self isn’t it? I question my own self a lot of time, do you remember yourself? I surely don’t.