NihshabdBlog

Tag: Poetry

  • Cafe-Cum-Bookshop: My Dream Business ☕📚 | Nihshabd

    Cafe-Cum-Bookshop: My Dream Business ☕📚 | Nihshabd

    If you could start a new business right now, what would it be?

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    My dream cafe-cum-bookshop is more than just a business idea. ☕📚

    If I Could Start a New Business Right Now…

    My Dream Cafe-Cum-Bookshop

    If I could start a new business right now, I would open a little cafe-cum-bookshop. ☕📚 A place where people could come to read a book, sip their coffee, and simply slow down for a while.

    I imagine a cosy little place with shelves full of books, comfortable corners to sit, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and some soft music playing in the background. A place where you could walk in alone, pick a book, order your coffee and happily disappear into your own little world for a while.

    And I think the evenings would be my favourite.

    Where Writers and Readers Come Together

    There would be little gatherings with writers and readers. Someone might read a few lines they’ve written, someone might hum an old song, someone might pick up a guitar, and perhaps someone would suddenly recite a couple of shers and make the evening a little more beautiful. 🎶✨

    There wouldn’t be any elaborate arrangements. Just people sitting together, talking about books, writing, music and life.

    Someone might come to share a poem.

    Someone might bring a story they have been writing.

    Someone might sing.

    And someone might simply sit there with their coffee and listen.

    Maybe someone would come only for coffee and end up staying for a poetry evening. Maybe someone would pick up a guitar and suddenly everyone would start singing.

    And maybe the coffee would get cold because nobody remembered to drink it. 😄

    I think that would be perfectly okay.

    A Little Space for Writers at My Cafe-Cum-Bookshop

    It wouldn’t just be a bookstore or a cafe.

    It would be a little soul-space for all those small writers who have written so much but never really found a place to be heard.

    Of course, every writer wants to become famous someday. Who wouldn’t? 😄 But before fame, sometimes you just need a place where your words can find a few ears, a few hearts and perhaps a few people who say, “I liked that.”

    There are so many people who write quietly—poems in notebooks, stories on their phones, thoughts late at night, little pieces of life that perhaps nobody else has ever read.

    I would love to give those words a little space.

    No pressure.

    No big stage.

    No competition.

    Just books, coffee, conversations, music, poetry and people sharing a little piece of themselves.

    More Than Just Books and Coffee

    Because this place wouldn’t just be about books or coffee.

    It would be about people, stories and those little moments that make an ordinary evening feel special.

    A place where writers could find readers, readers could discover new words, and everyone could feel that they belonged there—even if they had walked in alone.

    Would it make me rich?

    I have no idea.

    But I know I would probably spend half my earnings buying more books and the other half drinking coffee. 😂

    Some dreams are not really about money, though.

    Some are simply about creating something that feels like home.

    For me, this would be that dream.

    A little cafe.

    A little bookshop.

    A little music.

    A little poetry.

    A lot of coffee.

    And a whole lot of stories waiting to be shared.

    It wouldn’t just be a cafe-cum-bookshop.

    It would be a little home for words, music and people.

    That’s all I wish for. ❤️

    What about you? If you could start a new business right now, what would it be? Something practical, something completely crazy, or something you’ve secretly been dreaming about?

    Tell me about it. I’d love to hear your dream. ☕📚✨

    .

    Until The Next Whisper,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © NihshabdThe Silent Stories That Speak to the Soul. All Rights Reserved. 

    .

    READ MORE : Authors I Would Love to Have Dinner With | Nihshabd,

    My Little Life Hacks: Simple Things That Make Life Better 

  • अनकहे एहसास 🌙✨

    अनकहे एहसास 🌙✨

    मैं साँझ लिखूँ, तुम उसे एक एहसास समझ लेना,
    मेरी खामोशी को भी दिल की आवाज़ समझ लेना।
    हर बात लफ़्ज़ों से कहना ज़रूरी तो नहीं होता,
    मेरी आँखों में छुपी हर बात को अंदाज़ समझ लेना।

    .

    जो दूर रहकर भी दिल के करीब रहते हैं,
    उन रिश्तों को तुम एक खूबसूरत राज़ समझ लेना।
    कभी मौसम बदलें, कभी रास्ते बदल जाएँ,
    पर जो दिल में बसे रहें, उन्हें अपना आज समझ लेना।

    .

    मैं चाँद लिखूँ, तुम उसे कोई अधूरी कहानी समझ लेना,
    मेरी हर दुआ में छुपी तुम्हारी निशानी समझ लेना।
    वक़्त की धूल से कुछ यादें धुंधली हो जाएँ अगर,
    दिल में बची मुस्कान को मेरी सौगात समझ लेना।

    .

    Unspoken Feelings 🌙✨

    I write of twilight, you understand it as a feeling,
    I write of my silence, you hear the voice of my heart.
    Not every emotion needs to be expressed in words,
    Understand the stories hidden in my eyes through their quiet expressions.

    .

    Those who remain close to the heart even from afar,
    Let those bonds be cherished as a beautiful secret.
    Seasons may change, and paths may turn different,
    But those who live in the heart remain a part of our today.

    .

    I write of the moon, you see it as an unfinished story,
    I write of my prayers, you find your presence hidden within them.
    If time ever covers some memories with dust,
    Hold on to the smile left behind as my precious gift. ❤️

    ..

    Until the next whisper,

    — Rajeshwari 🧿💕

  • Authors I Would Love to Have Dinner With | Nihshabd

    Authors I Would Love to Have Dinner With | Nihshabd

    Which author would you love to have dinner with?

    If I Could Book One Dinner Table…

    “Which author would you love to have dinner with?”

    Arre… ek? 😳

    If I could choose the authors I would love to have dinner with, I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin.

    This question is clearly underestimating my literary appetite.

    My mind says, “Be sensible. Pick one.”
    My heart says, “Excuse me? Why are we choosing when we can invite everyone?” 🤭

    Chetan Bhagat, Gulzar sahab, Ruskin Bond, Manav Kaul… I had barely started making a shortlist when my heart quietly cancelled the shortlist.

    Because honestly, how do I choose between words that made me laugh, cry, think, remember, heal, or simply stare at the ceiling for ten minutes?

    So I have a better plan.

    I want a dinner with all the writers I have discovered through WordPress.

    Yes, all of them.

    And no, a normal dinner table won’t do.

    We may need a banquet hall.

    Actually… knowing writers, we may need a bigger venue. 😄

    Authors I Would Love to Have Dinner With

    I can already imagine the evening.

    Someone will recite a shayari that will make everyone suddenly very quiet.

    Someone will start singing an old Bollywood song, and within five minutes we will all be transported to another era.

    Someone will tell a quirky story and have the entire table laughing.

    Someone will read a soft little poem that quietly finds its way into our hearts.

    Someone will tell us a story from their life, and we’ll forget that we had actually come there to eat.

    Someone will take us back to another time with such vivid words that we’ll almost forget which century we’re sitting in.

    Someone will speak about faith and spirituality, and for a few peaceful minutes, even our overthinking minds might decide to take a break.

    And someone, I am sure, will say something so profound that I’ll spend the next three days thinking about it while doing absolutely unrelated household chores. 🤭

    That’s what I love about writers.

    They don’t just write stories.

    They leave little pieces of themselves in our hearts.

    Sometimes a sentence stays.

    Sometimes a character stays.

    Sometimes a poem appears in our mind at the most unexpected moment.

    And sometimes, without even knowing us, a writer says something we desperately needed to hear.

    And perhaps that’s why choosing the authors I would love to have dinner with feels almost impossible.

    So if I ever get the chance…

    I don’t want a fancy restaurant.

    I don’t need a celebrity chef.

    Give me a long table, good food, endless coffee, a little music, and a sky full of stars.

    I want to sit under that starry canopy with the writers whose words have left a mark on my heart.

    Let them talk.

    Let them laugh.

    Let them read.

    Let them sing.

    Let them tell us their stories.

    I’ll probably spend most of the evening listening, smiling, and wondering how incredibly lucky I am to be sitting among so many beautiful minds.

    And perhaps, somewhere between dessert and the last cup of coffee, I’ll quietly think—

    “These are the people who once lived only in words on my screen… and tonight, they are sitting right here.”

    So, which author would I love to have dinner with?

    I refuse to choose.

    My heart has already booked the whole mehfil.

    Now I just need to find a banquet hall big enough.

    And maybe a table with a little extra space for all the feelings. ❤️

    .

    P.S. I haven’t named a single one of you… but yes, I had every one of you in mind while writing this. 🤭 So if you recognise yourself somewhere between the shayari, stories, songs, poems, wisdom and all those little “someone will…” moments… just smile. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you. 😉🦋❤️

    May you always find a little magic between the words. ✨

    Until the next whispers…
    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    READ MORE :  The Best Dreams Whisper

  • The Love We Don’t Post About: Finding Love in Little Things

    The Love We Don’t Post About: Finding Love in Little Things

    The Love We Don’t Post About ❤️

    The love we don’t post about is often the kind that quietly becomes part of everyday life.

    Love is surprisingly unromantic sometimes.

    It isn’t always roses, candlelight, or two people staring into each other’s eyes like the electricity bill doesn’t exist. 😄

    Sometimes, love is simply—

    “Did you eat?”

    “Take an umbrella.”

    “Text me when you reach.”

    Basically, an unpaid reminder app with feelings.

    It is making tea exactly the way they like it, saving the last piece of their favourite dessert and pretending,

    “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

    It is knowing that “I’m fine” does not actually mean fine…

    and wisely choosing not to ask,

    “Are you sure?”

    The Love We Don’t Post About in Everyday Life

    Love is remembering the little things—their favourite song, the way they take their coffee, what makes them laugh, and when they need words…

    or just a quiet hug.

    It is the blanket pulled over sleeping feet.

    The message that says,

    “Reached?”

    The snack brought home without being asked.

    It is noticing when someone is unusually quiet, remembering how they like their tea, or keeping something aside because you know they will enjoy it later.

    None of these things look particularly romantic from the outside.

    But maybe that is the point.

    The love we don’t post about doesn’t need a photograph, a caption, or hundreds of likes to prove that it exists.

    And after a completely unnecessary argument—

    “So… tea?”

    Because somehow, even after all the drama,

    love still wants to make tea. ❤️

    The Little Things That Matter

    Maybe the greatest love stories aren’t the ones that make everyone say, “Wow!”

    Maybe they’re the quiet ones that simply make two people think,

    “I’m glad you’re here.”

    The kind where someone remembers your small habits, notices your silence, saves you the last piece of dessert, or simply sits beside you when there is nothing to say.

    And honestly…

    isn’t that enough?

    Although I am still keeping the last piece of dessert. 😄❤️

    .

    Until the next whisper,
    —Rajeshwari     🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    READ MORE : Love Keeps Her Alive,

    Do I Believe in Soulmates? A Heartfelt Reflection on Love, Trust, and Everyday Magic

  • Learning to Dance with the Waves

    Learning to Dance with the Waves

    Life comes in waves.

    Which explains why
    just when you’ve convinced yourself

    “I’ve finally figured life out…

    …the sea quietly laughs.

    And sends another wave.

    Some arrive
    with flowers in their hands.

    Others don’t even knock.

    They simply barge in,
    rearrange your plans,
    borrow your peace,
    and leave without saying goodbye.

    Rude, honestly.

    For the longest time,
    I thought the secret
    was finding calm waters.

    Then life smiled and said,

    “No, dear…

    the trick is learning
    not to spill your coffee
    every time the boat rocks.”

    So you learn.

    You stop arguing
    with every wave.

    You stop asking,

    “Why me?”

    Because, quite frankly,

    the sea has terrible customer service.

    It never answers.

    Instead,

    it teaches.

    It teaches that
    not every delay
    is a disaster.

    Not every goodbye
    is a punishment.

    Not every storm
    has your name on it.

    Some are simply
    passing through.

    And somewhere
    between holding on
    and letting go,

    you discover
    that you were never
    becoming fearless.

    You were simply
    becoming someone

    who could smile,

    fix the sail,

    and whisper,

    “Well…
    that was interesting.”

    before rowing on.

    Because life
    has never promised
    a sea without waves.

    Only the chance
    to become
    someone who knows

    how to dance with them.🦋

    🌊

    .

    Until the next whisper…
    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

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    If this whisper stayed with you, you may also enjoy reading The Hard Years: Not the Final Chapter

  • The Places I Miss Don’t Exist on Any Map.

    The Places I Miss Don’t Exist on Any Map.

    What are your top 10 travel destinations?

    My Top 10 Travel Destinations Aren’t All Marked on a Map

    Not every journey begins with a boarding pass,
    and not every destination
    can be found on a map.

    Some places
    live only in memory,
    yet they keep calling us back.

    I want to travel
    to the house where I grew up—

    where every wall knew my laughter,
    every corner hid a childhood adventure,
    and every evening arrived
    with the promise of one more game before sunset.

    I want to return
    to my grandmother’s kitchen,

    where recipes were whispered,
    not written,
    and love always arrived
    on a warm plate before words did.

    I want to lose myself
    in a little bookstore,

    where hours slipped quietly
    between the pages,
    and the only deadline
    was the last chapter.

    I want to visit
    the monsoon afternoons of childhood,

    when paper boats believed
    they could cross oceans,
    and getting drenched
    was never considered a mistake.

    I want to find
    the terrace beneath a sky full of stars,

    where electricity cuts
    felt less like an inconvenience
    and more like an invitation
    to count constellations
    that we never really knew the names of.

    I want to walk again
    through the narrow lanes

    where every neighbour knew my name,
    every festival belonged to everyone,
    and every door
    felt a little like home.

    I want to sit once more
    beneath the old tree

    that heard my secrets,
    celebrated my victories,
    and patiently watched
    my impossible dreams grow taller than its branches.

    I want to spend
    one more carefree summer,

    where mangoes stained our hands,
    icy treats coloured our tongues,
    and happiness cost
    less than a handful of coins.

    I want to stand
    beside the sea,

    not to watch the waves,
    but to watch myself
    forget the urge
    to check the time.

    And above all,

    I want to meet
    the version of myself 🦋
    I left behind somewhere—

    the one who laughed
    without worrying who was watching,
    trusted without hesitation,
    dreamed without calculating,
    and believed
    that tomorrow would always wait.

    Perhaps the greatest destinations
    are not countries or cities.

    They are forgotten afternoons,
    unfinished conversations,
    the fragrance of home,
    the warmth of familiar hands,
    and the pieces of ourselves
    we spend a lifetime trying to find again.

    Because the most unforgettable journeys
    don’t always require a passport.

    Sometimes,
    they simply ask us
    to close our eyes…
    and remember.🦋✨

    .

    Until the next whisper…

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    READ MORE : The Places Where I Accidentally Disappear

  • Every Soul Leaves Something Behind | हर मुसाफ़िर… 

    Every Soul Leaves Something Behind | हर मुसाफ़िर… 

    हर मुसाफ़िर

    ज़िंदगी एक लंबा सफ़र है…

    और हम सब,
    एक-दूसरे की राहों में
    बस यूँ ही नहीं आते।

    कोई मिलता है
    तो हमारे अंदर
    बंद पड़ी किसी खिड़की को खोल देता है।

    कोई चला जाता है,
    और जाते-जाते
    हमें हमारी ही ताक़त से मिलवा जाता है।

    कुछ लोग
    मुट्ठी भर वक़्त लेकर आते हैं,
    मगर यादों की उम्र
    पूरी ज़िंदगी जितनी दे जाते हैं।

    कुछ लोग
    हर सुबह की तरह होते हैं—
    चुपचाप आते हैं,
    और बिना कुछ कहे
    जीने की वजह बन जाते हैं।

    शायद इसलिए
    अब मैं किसी से मिलने को
    इत्तफ़ाक़ नहीं मानती।

    क्योंकि किस्मत
    रिश्ते नहीं भेजता,
    वह सबक भेजता है…
    मरहम भेजता है…
    आईना भेजता है…
    और कभी-कभी,
    अपना कोई अंश भेज देता है।

    इसलिए,
    जो ठहर गए,
    उनका शुक्रिया।

    जो बिछड़ गए,
    उनका भी…

    क्योंकि
    हर मुसाफ़िर
    अपनी मंज़िल से पहले,
    किसी और की कहानी में
    एक वजह बनकर ही आता है।

    Every Soul Leaves Something Behind

    Life is a long journey…

    And perhaps none of us
    crosses another’s path
    by accident.

    Some people arrive
    only to open a window within us
    that we never knew had been closed.

    Some leave,
    yet in their leaving,
    they introduce us
    to a strength we never knew we had.

    There are those
    who stay for only a handful of moments,
    yet leave behind memories
    that outlive years.

    And then there are those
    who are like the morning light—
    they quietly become a part of our days,
    asking for nothing,
    yet giving us countless reasons to keep going.

    Maybe that’s why
    I no longer believe
    that meeting someone is mere coincidence.

    Because fate
    doesn’t just send people.

    It sends lessons.
    It sends healing.
    It sends mirrors
    that help us see ourselves more clearly.

    And every once in a while,
    it sends someone
    who quietly changes the way we see life.

    So, to those who stayed…
    thank you.

    And to those who had to leave…
    thank you, too.

    Because every traveller
    becomes a part of someone else’s story
    before continuing on their own journey.

    And perhaps,
    that was the reason
    they were meant to cross our path.

    .

    Until the next whisper…
    —Rajeshwari     🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    .

  • If I Had to Be an Animal for a Week | A Butterfly’s Lesson

    If I Had to Be an Animal for a Week | A Butterfly’s Lesson

    If you had to be an animal for a week, which one would you be and why?

    If I Had to Be an Animal for a Week…

    A butterfly 🦋

    .

    Not because she’s beautiful.

    But because she has absolutely no idea that she is.

    .

    She doesn’t fly past flowers thinking,
    “Good morning, everyone. Kindly admire my wings.”

    .

    No.

    .

    She simply wanders from bloom to bloom,
    living her tiny, colorful life
    without checking mirrors,
    without counting likes,
    without asking,
    “Do these wings make me look fat?”

    (Imagine if butterflies had social media.
    “Just hatched. No filter.” 🦋)

    .

    The funny part?

    Nobody applauds the caterpillar.

    .

    Let’s be honest.

    .

    If a caterpillar applied for a beauty pageant,
    even the leaves would politely excuse themselves.

    .

    But then comes the quiet miracle.

    The waiting.

    The breaking.

    The transformation.

    And suddenly…
    the same little creature that once crawled
    begins to fly.

    .

    Gold becomes pure only after enduring fire.

    .

    A butterfly becomes beautiful only after surviving its cocoon.

    .

    Maybe we are not so different.

    Most of us never realize how much we’ve grown.

    .

    We keep showing up.

    We keep loving.

    We keep healing.

    We keep surviving.

    .

    We rarely notice the strength we’ve earned
    or the beauty that quietly settled into our souls.

    .

    Someone else sees it long before we do.

    .

    So today, this little butterfly is for everyone who still thinks they are “just a caterpillar.”

    .

    your transformation is already happening.

    .

    You don’t have to rush it.

    You don’t even have to see your own wings yet.

    .

    Just keep becoming.

    One day you’ll look back and realize…

    It was never the wings that made you beautiful.

    It was everything you survived before you learned to fly.

    .

    🦋 Before the Butterfly Flew…

    So perhaps the butterfly’s greatest lesson is this:

    Be grateful for the cocoon.

    Without it, there would never have been wings.

    🦋

    Until the next whisper… 🤍

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    .

    Read more : Collecting Colours the World Forgot

    Nature Is Calm… But My Imagination Is Not 😌🌿🐜

    Which Animal Am I? A Whole Wildlife Sanctuary

  • My Gut Doesn’t Give TED Talks| A Poem About Trusting Your Gut

    My Gut Doesn’t Give TED Talks| A Poem About Trusting Your Gut

    What’s a time you followed your gut and it turned out to be exactly right?

    “What’s a time you followed your gut and it turned out to be exactly right?”

    You’d probably expect
    one dramatic story.

    A rainy evening.

    A life-changing decision.

    A perfect movie climax.

    I’m sorry to disappoint you…

    My gut doesn’t save me once in a lifetime.

    It works overtime.

    ✦ When Logic Speaks, My Heart Listens ✦

    .

    There is always a moment…

    Just before life quietly asks,

    “Are you sure?”

    My brain immediately begins its presentation.

    “You’re overthinking.”

    “Don’t judge too quickly.”

    “Give it another chance.”

    “What’s the worst that could happen?”

    Meanwhile…

    My gut doesn’t prepare slides.

    It doesn’t quote philosophers.

    It simply whispers,

    “Hmm… something feels off.”

    No proof.

    No screenshots.

    No eyewitnesses.

    Not even a decent explanation.

    Just an odd little feeling…

    Like my heart somehow received tomorrow’s news
    before the rest of me.

    And honestly…

    That tiny feeling has a better success rate
    than all my overthinking combined.

    ✦ The Warnings No One Else Could Hear ✦

    .

    I’ve met people
    who looked like sunshine…

    until they arrived carrying thunderstorms.

    I’ve almost said “yes”
    to things that looked exciting…

    until something inside me quietly said,

    “Not this one.”

    I’ve changed plans at the last minute,
    cancelled meetings,
    walked away from conversations
    without knowing why.

    Every single time…

    Life later revealed
    the chapter I had unknowingly skipped.

    The funniest part?

    People ask,

    “How did you know?”

    I didn’t.

    That’s the whole point.

    If I had evidence,
    it wouldn’t be intuition.

    It would simply be common sense.

    So yes…

    There have been times
    when I ignored that whisper.

    Those chapters weren’t tragic.

    Just… unnecessarily exhausting.

    Sleepless nights.

    Overthinking.

    Conversations I should never have had.

    Apologies I never owed.

    Peace I willingly exchanged
    for curiosity.

    Turns out…

    Curiosity may have killed the cat.

    But ignoring my gut
    nearly killed my peace.

    ✦ The Peace That Came From Listening ✦

    .

    These days…

    When that quiet voice arrives,

    I don’t interrogate it.

    I don’t demand logic.

    I don’t ask for references.

    Some truths
    aren’t meant to be proven.

    They’re meant to be trusted.

    Because experience has taught me
    something beautiful…

    That whisper isn’t fear.

    It isn’t negativity.

    It isn’t pessimism.

    It’s every lesson I’ve survived…

    Every heartbreak…

    Every disappointment…

    Every mistake…

    Quietly joining hands
    to say,

    “We’ve been here before.”

    “Let’s not buy another ticket.”

    So…

    What’s a time I followed my gut and it turned out to be exactly right?

    I wish I could tell you
    just one story.

    But I can’t.

    Because it wasn’t one moment.

    It was dozens of tiny moments
    that never became disasters
    simply because
    I listened.

    Maybe I’ll never know
    what I escaped.

    Maybe that’s the point.

    Not every victory
    comes with applause.

    Some arrive quietly…

    Looking exactly like
    the problems
    that never happened.

    And if there’s one voice
    I’ve learned to trust
    without asking for proof…

    It’s the one
    that speaks the softest.

    Because I’ve realized…

    My gut was never trying to predict my future.

    It was simply trying to protect my peace.

    .

    Trust the quiet voice. It has been rooting for you all along. 🤍

    Love,
    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

  • A Smile Woven Through Silent Pain | Nihshabd

    A Smile Woven Through Silent Pain | Nihshabd

    लबों पर मुस्कान सजा ली, आँखों को ख़ामोश रहने दिया,
    हर दर्द को लफ़्ज़ न मिले… कुछ ज़ख्मों को बस जीने दिया।

    .

    जो बिखरा था, उसे समेटने में कई मौसम गुज़र गए,
    अब ख़ुद से मिलने लगे हैं… तो लोग कहते हैं, बदल गए।

    .

    अब कोई ग़म दस्तक भी दे, तो मुस्कुराकर दर खोलते हैं,
    कुछ दर्द मेहमान नहीं होते… उम्रभर साथ ही चलते हैं।

    .

    चेहरे पर जो सुकून दिखता है, वो यूँ ही नहीं आया है,
    बहुत कुछ ख़ामोशी से खोया है… तब जाकर ख़ुद को पाया है।

    .

    अब आँसू कम और दुआएँ ज़्यादा निकलती हैं,
    शायद टूटे हुए दिल ही… सबसे ख़ूबसूरत दुआ करते हैं।

    .

    मुस्कुराना अब आदत नहीं, रूह की तहज़ीब बन गया है,
    जो दर्द कभी मेरी पहचान था… आज वही मेरा नसीब नहीं, मेरा सबक़ बन गया है।

    .

    I taught my lips to smile,
So my eyes wouldn’t have to explain.
Not every wound asks for a voice…
Some are meant to be carried in silence.

    It took a lifetime of quiet storms
To gather the pieces of who I was.
Now that I’ve found my way back to myself,
The world simply calls it change.

    Grief still visits from time to time,
But it no longer feels like a stranger.
Some sorrows never leave your heart…
They simply learn to breathe more gently.

    If you see peace upon my face,
Know that it wasn’t gifted to me.
It was stitched together
From every goodbye I survived in silence.

    My eyes have forgotten how to plead,
My heart has remembered how to pray.
Perhaps only those who have been broken
Learn to bless without asking for anything in return.

    A smile is no longer an expression I wear.
It is the grace I chose over bitterness.
The pain that once wrote my story
Now merely turns its pages.

    Because healing isn’t the absence of pain…
    It’s the quiet courage to carry it beautifully.     🤍

    .

    कुछ एहसास कहे नहीं जाते…बस लिखे जाते हैं।

    शब्दों में शब्‍द — निःशब्द
    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari