Tag: Poetry

  • Winter, My Favorite Season… and My Biggest Enabler 🤭❄️

    Winter, My Favorite Season… and My Biggest Enabler 🤭❄️

    What is your favorite season of year? Why?

    Winter has always been my favorite season. There is something special about warm cups of tea, cozy blankets, gentle sunshine, and those lazy mornings when getting out of bed feels like a heroic achievement. This funny and relatable winter poem is a lighthearted celebration of everything we love—and occasionally complain about—during the cold season.


    If seasons were teachers,

    summer would be that strict one
    who keeps giving homework.

    Monsoon would be the dramatic one
    who changes the mood every five minutes.

    But winter?

    Winter would be the teacher who walks in,
    puts on a movie,
    and says,

    “Let’s not work too hard today.”

    Naturally, it’s my favorite. 😌

    Winter never judges me.

    It sees me wrapped in a blanket at noon
    holding a cup of tea
    and says,

    “Honestly, that’s reasonable.”

    And I appreciate that kind of support.

    The best thing about winter
    is how it changes ordinary things.

    Tea becomes an emotion.

    A blanket becomes a lifestyle.

    And sunshine?

    Sunshine becomes a limited-edition luxury item.

    People will cross entire rooms,
    move chairs,
    and rotate themselves like sunflowers
    just to sit in one perfect patch of warmth.

    For those few minutes,
    life feels completely under control. ☀️

    Then comes the morning.

    The alarm rings.

    I open one eye.

    The room is cold.

    The blanket is warm.

    And suddenly I’m forced to choose
    between ambition and happiness.

    It’s not an easy decision.

    Winter also has a special talent.

    It can make a grown adult
    stare at a bucket of water
    and reconsider every life choice
    that brought them to that moment. 😭

    But the real problem is this—

    Winter starts out adorable.

    Cute sweaters.

    Foggy mornings.

    Hot tea.

    Cozy evenings.

    Everything feels like a scene
    from a feel-good movie.

    Then winter gets overconfident.

    One morning it wakes up and decides,

    “Let’s see how much they really love me.”

    Now the floor feels like ice.

    The water feels personally offended.

    And my teeth begin communicating
    in Morse code. 😂

    Yet somehow,

    every year,

    I fall for winter again.

    Because no other season
    makes doing absolutely nothing
    feel so productive.

    No other season
    makes a blanket feel like home.

    And no other season
    can convince me that sitting in the sun
    with a cup of tea
    is a perfectly successful day.

    So yes,

    winter is my favorite season.

    Not because it’s perfect.

    But because it understands
    that sometimes happiness is simply

    a warm cup of tea,

    a cozy blanket,

    a little sunshine,

    and absolutely no intention
    of getting out of bed. 🤭❄️☕

    Winter and I have a beautiful relationship—

    I praise it in poems,

    and it tests that love
    every morning. 😆✨

    .


    Perhaps that is why winter remains my favorite season year after year. It reminds us to slow down, enjoy simple comforts, and find happiness in ordinary moments. A warm drink, a cozy blanket, a patch of sunshine, and a little extra sleep can sometimes feel like life’s greatest luxuries.

    .

    Wrapped in words and winter sunshine,
    —Rajeshwari
    ❄️🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • 🎵 My Mood Manager Has a Playlist

    🎵 My Mood Manager Has a Playlist

    What’s a song that always puts you in a good mood?

    .

    Honestly, that’s a difficult question.

    .

    It’s like asking a tea lover to pick one favorite cup,
    or a bookworm to choose just one page.

    .

    I love songs.

    Happy songs.
    Then come the sad ones.
    Sometimes old songs.
    And often new ones.

    Songs I understand.
    Songs I confidently sing wrong.

    .

    .

    Some songs make me dance in the kitchen.
    Some turn traffic jams into music videos.
    Some convince me I have a surprisingly good voice.

    .

    (For the record, the neighbors may disagree.)

    .

    Whenever life feels a little too serious,
    a favorite song appears like an unpaid therapist.

    .

    No appointment.
    No paperwork.
    No judgment.

    .

    Just three minutes of:

    “Everything will be fine.
    Now sing the chorus.”

    .My Playlist Works in Shifts

    .

    The funny thing is,
    the song that always puts you in a good mood
    is not necessarily the same song every day.

    .

    My playlist changes more often
    than my password.

    .

    One day it’s an energetic anthem.
    The next day it’s an old melody
    that suddenly reminds me of absolutely nothing
    and somehow everything.

    .

    So, do I have a song that always puts me in a good mood?

    .

    No.

    .

    Choosing just one would be unfair.

    .

    Every song in my playlist has a job.
    Some make me smile.
    Others make me dance.
    A few remind me who I am.

    .

    And when life starts acting like a complicated drama,

    I simply press Play.

    Because while I can’t always change my mood,

    I can usually change the soundtrack.

    Maybe that is the real answer to the question,
    “What’s a song that always puts you in a good mood?”

    .

    It is whichever song meets you exactly where you are
    and gently takes you somewhere better.

    .

    And somehow, the soundtrack changes everything. 🎵✨

    Life may not come with a manual, but thankfully it comes with a playlist. 🎶😊

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • How Do You Build Loyal Subscribers?

    How Do You Build Loyal Subscribers?

    People ask,

    .

    “How do you build loyal subscribers?”

    .

    As if they’re ingredients

    .

    and I’m missing one crucial spice.

    Add a pinch of consistency,
    a dash of wit,
    stir vigorously,

    and voilà—loyal subscribers.

    .

    If only.

    .

    I don’t think loyal subscribers
    are built at all.

    .

    I think they begin
    with a stranger.

    Someone who finds
    a piece of themselves

    hidden in your words.

    A thought they recognize.

    A feeling they’ve carried.

    A smile they didn’t expect.

    .

    They read a post.

    Then another.

    And that’s where the mystery begins.

    .

    Because the second visit
    is always more interesting
    than the first.

    .

    The first is curiosity.

    The second is choice.

    And somewhere between
    one post and another,

    something small happens.

    .

    A shared laugh.

    A familiar thought.

    A sentence that quietly says,

    “Me too.”

    Without either of you noticing,

    the stranger becomes familiar.

    .

    And isn’t that extraordinary?

    .

    In a world full of endless scrolling,

    someone pauses.

    In a world overflowing with voices,

    someone remembers yours.

    Not because every post is perfect.

    .

    Thank goodness.

    Perfection is exhausting.

    But because, every now and then,

    your words make them feel
    a little less alone.

    Perhaps that’s how
    loyal subscribers are made.

    .

    Not through clever tricks.

    Not through algorithms.

    But through tiny moments
    of human connection.

    One post.

    One smile.

    One “I’ve felt that too”

    at a time.

    .

    So perhaps loyal subscribers
    aren’t followers at all.

    .

    They’re the people
    who turn words into conversations,

    conversations into friendships,

    and an ordinary blog

    into a place that feels
    a little like home.

    .

    And if you’re reading this,

    whether you’ve been here
    for years,

    or only just arrived,

    thank you.

    .

    You may think you’re following a blog.

    .

    But from where I’m sitting,

    you’re helping build
    the reason it exists.

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Practice Makes Perfect? I Respectfully Disagree

    Practice Makes Perfect? I Respectfully Disagree

    They say,

    “Practice makes perfect.”

    .

    I would like to respectfully disagree.

    .

    Still Waiting for the User Manual😌

    I’ve been practicing adulthood
    for quite some time now,

    and I still occasionally walk into a room

    and forget why I went there.

    .

    Mirror vs Camera: An Ongoing Feud 😒

    I’ve practiced taking selfies.

    Hundreds of them.

    Yet somehow,

    the person in the mirror
    and the person in the photo

    continue to be complete strangers.

    .

    Love, Water, Sunlight… and Drama 🎭

    I’ve practiced gardening too.

    The internet says:

    “Give plants sunlight, water, and love.”

    I did.

    The plant responded by dying.

    Meanwhile,

    a neglected plant growing from a crack in the pavement

    is absolutely thriving.

    .

    Explain that.

    .

    One Eye Understands the Assignment🤯

    I’ve practiced drawing.

    Which mostly means

    spending hours creating something beautiful

    and then noticing one tiny mistake

    that suddenly becomes

    the only thing I can see.

    .

    A Pinch of Hope, A Dash of Panic 😱

    I’ve practiced cooking.

    And every time I make a recipe,

    there’s still a brief moment

    when I stare into the pan

    and hope for divine intervention.

    .

    The Perfect Reply Arrives Three Days Later 😪

    I’ve practiced conversations.

    Yet I still remember things

    I should have said

    three days ago.

    Usually while showering.

    When it is far too late.

    .

    The Password and I Are No Longer Speaking 🤭

    I’ve also practiced creating passwords.

    Strong passwords.

    Unique passwords.

    Passwords with capital letters,

    small letters,

    numbers,

    symbols,

    and what feels like

    a personal sacrifice to the technology gods.

    And yet,

    every login still begins with:

    “Incorrect password.”

    Followed by:

    “Forgot Password?”

    which feels less like a question

    and more like a judgment.

    .

    Practice makes perfect?

    Really?

    .

    Because from what I’ve observed,

    practice mostly makes us

    slightly less confused than before.

    And even that’s not guaranteed.

    .

    The funny thing is,

    the people I admire most

    aren’t perfect at all.

    They’re the ones who keep trying.

    The ones who laugh at their mistakes.

    The ones who accidentally send messages too early,

    water the wrong plant,

    burn the toast,

    miss the turn,

    make the typo,

    and somehow continue living

    as if the world hasn’t ended.

    Which, surprisingly,

    it hasn’t.

    .

    So perhaps the proverb needs an update.

    .

    Practice doesn’t make perfect.

    Practice makes stories.

    .

    It gives us the embarrassing moments,

    the unexpected detours,

    the inside jokes,

    the lessons,

    and occasionally,

    if we’re very lucky,

    a little wisdom.

    .

    Because perfection is impressive.

    But imperfection?

    Imperfection is relatable.

    It’s the selfie that took fifty tries.

    The recipe that looked nothing like the picture.

    The plant that survived purely out of stubbornness.

    The sketch with one slightly suspicious-looking hand.

    The password we reset yesterday

    and forgot today.

    And if we’re being honest,

    most of us don’t need another perfect person to admire.

    We just need proof

    that everyone else is making it up as they go along too.

    And after years of practice,

    that’s the one thing I’ve finally become good at:

    .

    Looking perfectly confident…

    while having absolutely no idea what I’m doing. 😄🌷✨

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • A Different Kind of Minimalism✨

    A Different Kind of Minimalism✨

    Daily writing prompt
    Do you believe in minimalism?

    A Different Kind of Minimalism: Not Less Life, Just Less Noise

    Perhaps minimalism is not always about owning less. Sometimes, it is about carrying less.

    ——————————————

    Do You Believe in Minimalism?

    I do.

    But probably not in the way Instagram wants me to.

    My bookshelves are full.

    My camera roll is overflowing.

    And I still keep random things because they remind me of random days.

    So clearly, I am not winning any minimalist awards.

    But over the years,

    I have become a minimalist in other ways.

    I keep fewer grudges.

    They’re heavy,

    take up too much space,

    and never match the decor.

    I keep fewer expectations too.

    Not because I don’t care,

    but because I’ve learned that people are much happier

    when they’re allowed to be themselves

    instead of the characters we cast them as.

    I try to keep fewer worries.

    The future already has enough of its own.

    It doesn’t need me rehearsing disasters

    like I’m preparing for an audition.

    And I’ve become very selective

    about what gets permanent residence in my head.

    Some thoughts are just tourists.

    They don’t need property rights.

    Nature seems to understand this better than we do.

    A tree doesn’t grow extra leaves

    to impress the tree next door.

    A bird doesn’t compare its flight path

    with another bird’s.

    The sunrise never arrives and says,

    “I hope everyone likes me today.”

    It simply shows up and does its thing.

    What confidence.

    What freedom.

    Maybe that’s the kind of minimalism I believe in.

    Not fewer possessions.

    Fewer pressures.

    Not emptier rooms.

    A quieter mind.

    Not less life.

    Just fewer things standing between me

    and the life I keep forgetting to enjoy.

    ——————————————

    ✦ A Thought to Leave With

    Perhaps growing older is not about collecting more and more.

    Perhaps it is learning what deserves a place in our lives—

    and gently showing the rest the door. 🌿

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • A Little Bit of Magic Called Life

    A Little Bit of Magic Called Life

    Daily writing prompt
    What is the meaning of life?

    What Life Feels Like ✨

    Sometimes,
    when I sit quietly
    and think about life,
    it feels like a tiny beautiful moment
    running softly through my hands
    before I can hold it completely.

    Like a butterfly
    that chooses your shoulder
    for just a second. 🦋

    Like a rainbow
    appearing shyly after rain
    only to disappear again
    as if magic was never meant
    to stay forever. 🌈

    Life feels golden sometimes —
    sunlight tangled in hair,
    music floating through rooms,
    giggles that arrive unexpectedly,
    laughter so pure
    it heals hidden corners inside us.

    And sometimes life is simply
    a soft breeze,
    a silver line behind dark clouds,
    a strange little miracle
    hiding inside ordinary days.

    To me,
    life is not a race to win.

    It is freedom.
    Peace.
    Clarity.
    Love without conditions.
    Happiness found in tiny things.

    It is dancing foolishly in the kitchen,
    singing wrong lyrics loudly,
    being playful without shame,
    staying a little crazy,
    a little quirky,
    a little wonderfully undone.

    Life is learning to live
    without grudges heavy in the heart.
    To let go gently.
    To forgive quietly.
    To protect your peace
    like something sacred.

    And maybe the meaning of life
    is not something huge at all.

    Maybe it is simply this —

    to love deeply,
    laugh endlessly,
    feel everything fully,
    and leave behind
    a little warmth,
    a little music,
    and a little magic
    wherever we go. ✨

    .

    A dreamy sunset scene with a girl, butterflies, rainbow, and soft magical vibes beside the title Nihshabd.
    Tiny moments. Big feelings. Infinite magic. ✨

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • The Things We Leave Behind

    The Things We Leave Behind

    What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

    Legacy

    I do not dream of marble names,
    or statues standing tall,
    I only hope my presence stays
    in little things… that’s all.

    .

    In laughter shared at dinner tables,
    in stories told again,
    in recipes with extra love
    and slightly guessed-by-hand.

    .

    I want to leave behind soft words
    that comfort tired hearts,
    the kind of kindness people keep
    long after we depart.

    .

    Maybe no history books will care,
    maybe no headlines sing,
    but if my people smile at memories,
    that feels like everything.

    .

    Let my legacy be warmth and light,
    traditions carried through,
    a home where love was always loud,
    and everyone felt true.

    .

    I hope my name is spoken softly
    in moments filled with grace,
    like winter sunlight on tired skin
    or peace in a crowded place.

    .

    May I remain in tiny habits,
    in little things people do,
    like adding extra chai to milk
    because “that’s how she used to.” ☕

    .

    I want to live inside the pauses
    between chaos and despair,
    in the feeling that no matter what,
    someone once truly cared.

    .

    Not perfect.
    Not famous.
    Not endlessly admired.

    .

    Just human enough to be remembered
    with affection instead of formality.

    .

    Because in the end,
    legacy is not built from monuments.
    It is built quietly

    .

    in how gently you held people,
    how safely they could fall apart around you,
    and how deeply your love continued living
    even after you were gone.

    .

    And if someday, long after me,
    my absence still feels a little warm
    instead of completely empty…

    .

    I think that would mean
    I loved well enough to stay. ✨

    .

    .

    A warm and nostalgic sunset scene by a window featuring books, dried flowers, candles, handwritten notes, and a cup of chai, with the title The Things We Leave Behind and the name Nihshabd softly displayed in the center.
    Some things end, but their warmth stays forever. ☕✨

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Collecting Colours the World Forgot

    Collecting Colours the World Forgot

    Some people heal in silence,
    some buy expensive candles,
    and some of us stare at butterflies
    like they personally pay our therapy bills.

    .

    I belong to the third category.

    .

    A butterfly passes by
    and suddenly my entire personality becomes
    “poet standing dramatically near window during rain.”

    .

    Honestly, embarrassing.

    .

    But tell me
    how does something so tiny
    carry an entire rainbow
    without looking arrogant about it?

    .

    If humans had those colours
    we’d immediately start a podcast.

    .

    Butterflies simply float around
    like soft little reminders that
    beauty does not need announcement,
    only sunlight.

    .

    And perhaps a flower or two.

    .

    Sometimes I think
    God created butterflies
    on a Friday evening
    when heaven’s creative team said,
    “Let’s add glitter to nature
    but make it emotionally intelligent.”

    .

    Excellent decision, truly.

    .

    Because look carefully
    every butterfly feels like
    a flying piece of weather.

    .

    A little barish.(rain)
    A little dhoop.(sunlight)
    A little khushboo (fragrance) of forgotten gardens.
    A little magic stitched into wings.

    .

    Even the breeze behaves differently around them,
    like the wind itself is trying not to be rude.

    .

    Meanwhile humans…
    one inconvenience
    and we become unpaid philosophers.

    .

    Wifi slow?
    “Nothing in life is permanent.”

    .

    Tea cold?
    “This world lacks warmth.”

    .

    But butterflies?
    Zero complaints.
    Just vibes and floral diplomacy.

    .

    I envy that.

    .

    I too wish to enter rooms
    the way butterflies enter gardens
    quietly, beautifully,
    making everything look softer
    without touching a thing.

    .

    Maybe that is why
    I love colours so much.

    .

    Not loud colours.
    Not festival-shop chaos.

    .

    I mean the gentle colours.

    .

    The glow after rain.
    The pink hiding inside sunsets.
    The golden smell of old evenings.
    The blue that lives quietly in lonely skies.

    .

    Those colours.

    .

    The kind that do not scream,
    yet somehow stay in your memory
    longer than people.

    .

    But beautiful things usually are.

    .

    And perhaps that is the real magic
    not becoming extraordinary,
    but remaining soft
    in a world training everyone
    to become stone.

    So if someday
    you see me smiling at butterflies
    like an emotionally unstable Disney princess,
    please mind your business.

    .

    I am busy collecting colours
    for the parts of me
    the world tried to leave grey. 🦋✨

    .

    Dreamy pastel collage featuring butterflies, rainbow-toned typography, soft skies, flowers, and a girl watching the sunset beside the title Collecting Colours the World Forgot.
    For hearts that romanticize rain clouds and tiny miracles. ☁️🦋

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • My Mother — The Soft Strength Behind My Life ❤️

    My Mother — The Soft Strength Behind My Life ❤️

    मेरी माँ…
    वो मेरी ज़िंदगी की
    सबसे खूबसूरत सीख हैं। ❤️

    .

    मैंने उन्हें
    हर परिस्थिति में
    शांत रहना देखा है,
    टूटकर भी
    सबको संभालते देखा है,
    और बिना कुछ कहे
    अपनों के लिए
    सब कुछ करते देखा है। 🌸

    .

    उन्होंने मुझे
    सिर्फ जीना नहीं सिखाया…
    उन्होंने मुझे
    आत्मसम्मान सिखाया,
    हिम्मत सिखाई,
    और ये सिखाया कि
    एक औरत की असली ताक़त
    उसके दिल की नरमी में होती है। ❤️

    .

    आज अगर मैं
    मुश्किल दिनों में भी
    खुद को संभाल लेती हूँ,
    अगर दुनिया बदल जाने पर भी
    दिल में प्यार बचा हुआ है…
    तो उसकी वजह
    मेरी माँ हैं। 🙂

    .

    क्योंकि मजबूत औरतें
    शोर नहीं करतीं…
    वो बस
    अपनी बेटियों को
    इतना प्यार दे जाती हैं
    कि वो जिंदगी से डरना छोड़ देती हैं। 🌷

    .

    सभी माँओं के लिए… ❤️

    .

    कुछ माँएँ
    अपने प्यार को कभी शब्दों में नहीं कहतीं…
    बस पूरी जिंदगी
    चुपचाप अपने बच्चों पर लुटा देती हैं। 🌸

    .

    उनकी दुआओं में सुकून होता है,
    उनकी गोद में दुनिया की सबसे सुरक्षित जगह,
    और उनके होने से ही
    घर… घर लगता है। 🙂

    .

    दुनिया की हर माँ को
    दिल से प्यार, सम्मान और धन्यवाद।
    Happy Mother’s Day ❤️🌷

    .


    My mother…
    is the most beautiful lesson of my life. ❤️

    .

    I have seen her
    remain calm through every situation,
    hold everyone together
    even while breaking silently inside,
    and do everything for the people she loves
    without ever saying a word. 🌸

    .

    She did not just teach me how to live…
    she taught me self-respect,
    courage,
    and that the true strength of a woman
    lies in the softness of her heart. ❤️

    .

    So if today
    I can still hold myself together during difficult days,
    if love still survives inside me
    despite the world changing around me…
    it is because of my mother. 🙂

    .

    Because strong women
    do not always make noise…
    sometimes,
    they simply love their daughters so deeply
    that they stop fearing life itself. 🌷

    .

    For all the mothers out there… ❤️

    .

    Some mothers
    never express their love through words…
    they simply spend their entire lives
    quietly pouring it into their children. 🌸

    .

    There is comfort in their prayers,
    the safest place in the world in their embrace,
    and it is because of them
    that a house truly feels like home. 🙂

    .

    To every mother in the world
    love, respect, and heartfelt gratitude.
    Happy Mother’s Day ❤️🌷

    .

    A warm and emotional Mother’s Day illustration of a mother lovingly holding her child during sunset, with soft floral details and heartfelt typography.
    The softest strength in every life… a mother ❤️🌸

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • When She Exists, Even Evenings Smile

    When She Exists, Even Evenings Smile

    Uske hone se shaam khilkhilati hai,

    jaise thandi hawa dil ko chhoo jaati hai…

    .

    Wo aaye toh raatein bhi roshan ho jaati hain,

    aur sitare zameen par utar aate hain…

    .

    Kabhi wo khamoshi mein bhi kahaani likh jaati hai,

    kabhi hansi se har gham ko bhula jaati hai…

    .

    Na naam mein simti, na lafzon mein bandhi,

    wo ek roshni hai… jo har dil mein jagmagati hai… 🌸

    .


    .

    Her presence makes the evening bloom with laughter,

    like a gentle breeze that softly touches the heart…

    .

    When she arrives, even the nights begin to glow,

    as if the stars have descended to the earth…

    .

    Sometimes she writes stories in silence,

    sometimes her smile makes every sorrow fade away…

    .

    Not bound by a name, nor confined in words,

    she is a light… that shines in every heart… 🌸

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕