When Thoughts Betray.

And you will be shocked to know
That the irony is that
It is those moments that are closest to me
Which I have failed to record in my words
Repeatedly betraying me
Like a mirage in a desert
Those experiences which
Are killed as thoughts,
as though murdered
during birth,
by a witless counterpart.
Are actually
my best moments,
and the closest to my heart.
It is like the invasion
of one thought by another,
like demolishing of a world
a whole new culture
and a way of thinking
by a wholly new and
strange way.


We are beyond saving,
Beyond hope, beyond magic.
We are beyond our craving,
Spinning a web of life so tragic.

As too much freedom hurts,
the value of beauty is lost.
To reclaim futuristic thrones,
We throng our souls in the past.

Fabricated feelings clog our thoughts,
Unwanted courtesies, formal formalities.
We lose ourselves to ciphering bots,
Identity lost in multiple identities.
We are doomed and devastated,
Uncertain amidst dead certainties.

Denying truth in favour of lies,
Decaying humour makes me weep.
It’s in us humans where the fault lies.
My words find me a little deep.

Enchanted flavours of colourful dreams,
Plastering sympathy on my wounds.
Smokey transitions in melting creams.
Finding myself out of bounds.

Medicating with a self brewed poison,
razored along with spineless victims.
Envying the soul, with caution
Advising my selfless instincts.

– Mayank ‘Sahar’ Mishra.

Title Doesn’t Matter

A transformation,
or something as small as change,
does not occur ovrnight
hidden behind
is the time
and the feeling of
being different

So what if I can’t be,
all I want,
in a single lifetime
in my stories and in my poems
my characters shall live long after
I am gone.
They shall relive
through the words of someone
like me !

If I won’t b there to be it all
at least I can see it all
and here I sit,
with a perfect view
with buildings.
I know you don’t,
but my words believe me.

I have been there, I’ve done it all.
All the pain and desires, I’ve sufferd it all.

Dead eyes give away,
I’m a man without
a perspective.
the worst kind.
I have grown,
And I am not
anymore me !

But here I am
Synchronised imperfectly
In this perfect harmony
Or so it may seem.
Behind snow capped peak
Is the light
I seek and I am
Not me.

The Truth About Popularity. 

“The truth about popularity!

Is it in the falling flashbulbs ?

In the softness and the ambient praises,

In hush-hush, hum-drum, in the rumours. 

Walking amongst a pack of hungry hyenas,

Ssh…ssh… They hear it all. 

Hopeless vanity for lookalikes,

Breaking snap the mirrors. 

They sucked on my energy,

those sharp silhouettes in my rear view. 

Controversial clips of the news,

Surreal tapes and sensual nightmares. 

Sudden explosions disturb my gravity,

Hell, I know the truth about popularity.”
      – Mayank ‘Sahar’ Mishra 


Atop the Kailasha
amidst snow and cold
sat a hermit
with his eyes closed
indifferent to differences
unaware of appearances
abiding by no laws
never taking a pause
from his deep meditation
lost in deep contemplation
clad in tiger skin
all animals his kin
a snake garland
ash on forehead
destroyer and life-giver
the hermit was Shiva
rejected and an outcast
never dwells on his past
neither a teacher, nor a preacher
never thinking of the future
he is guileless and tough
lost and unbound
if you look hard enough
within you, he may be found
to be like Shiva
all you need to do
is open that third eye
and take a view
if you can
wield his trident
strike down every impediment
which stands between you
and the Shiva in you.
– Mayank ‘Sahar’ Mishra

Image courtesy: Google 

Being Undone.

Let us be undone,
In this moment
Forget what we have learnt
Grow back to the point
When we were nascent.
Skip backwards to the days
which are only reminiscent
In our hearts
Of the beautiful time
When none knew deceit,
none lied and vanity was off beat.
Let us unmake our hearts
And carve a beautiful sculpture.
from the stones they have become.
And remember when to forget
the lessons that made us
Less human and more machinist.

Let us be undone
In this moment
and become what we were
What we always longed for.
The child inside us calls loudly
let us close our ears and eyes
And hear and see naught
except what lies inside.
Swim back to the shores
from where we began
Invading our Mother Earth.
Go back to the beginning of it all
And start again.
and become humans after all.

Whispers of Immortality

I have been lost since long,
trying to find my voice.
Caught between right and wrong.
Wondering if I had a choice !

Weaving dreams in darkness;
Alone, I was too silent.
None to fight in my loneliness,
it made me sharply violent.

My voice lost,
returned briefly in my words.
At a great cost,
I learned to fly like the birds.

Accustomed to suffering,
my adventures led me too far.
I didn’t know what I was becoming,
slowly, deep within I waged a war.

Been trying to find my voice,
drowned beneath the voices.
Been trying to make that choice,
found between the two choices.

I have bartered my emotions,
for experiences of suffering.
As a dried branch finally snaps
in a torrent of wuthering.

Chasing dreams in darkness,
I knew I had to stumble.
It was when I fell I found,
all my lost voices in a jumble.

Stumbling, falling, failing then rising,
perhaps I will return to normality.
It is the reason why I chose,
to converse in “whispers of immortality.”

– Mayank “Sahar” Mishra

Drift On !

For some, it’s a song.
For some, poetry.
For others, just words.
Or nothing, meaningless.
And meaningful.
My words know not,
formats and rules.
They flow like dust,
from denuded runes.
Slowly drifting,
Lost in an ocean of,
Struggling among
multiple identities.
Surviving their source,
my words just flow.

No tags, no tag lines.
No rhythm and no rhyme.
My words are,
an essence of experiences,
the verdict of my crimes.
Feel bad, feel good.
Feel pleasure or anguish.
Feel the depth or the high skies.
Feel the truth hidden beneath lies.
It is a Journey of words,
a labyrinth of consciousness.
I implore you, do not share this road,
for you must make your own.
Watch from afar,
and when you are done,
drift on and wander.
Just like my words.


Seems forever,
When you are waiting.
Every moment frozen,
Not moving.
Every moment feels like,
an uneventful millennia,
when you are waiting.
Patience wears out slowly
thinning every moment,
into an impassable passage
of space and time.

Seems so futile,
when it is finally over.
Shifting of perception.
The long endless wait
which stretched into millennias,
seems like a blink of an eye.
When you aren’t waiting anymore.

It’s pseudo and an illusion.
Just to confuse you,
hidden behind the veil of
an expected event or a person.

makes us wait,
for the inevitable.
So strange that,
while waiting,
we never realise that,
It is just a myth,
a false sense of time.
and that the inevitable
always arrives.

– Mayank “Sahar” Mishra

in the photograph Himanshu Singh, my friend. Photo credits: Sahar
All content is © Mayank “Sahar” Mishra.

Into The Wild. 

Last night I had a chance to see ‘Into the Wild’ again. It is an amazing   movie and depicts something which I have always wanted to do.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.”