We live in two worlds—
one real, one reel.
Two stages, same soul,
wearing different masks.
In the real world,
we hustle and stumble,
we laugh, we cry,
we break and mend,
we feel everything raw and true—
the beautiful mess of being human.
Bills get paid,
hearts sometimes ache,
promises made, or quietly forgotten.
No filters here,
no do-overs,
just breath and consequence.
But in the other world—
we trade in likes,
comments, and views.
Numbers rule.
Reach swells and dips
like a heartbeat on display.
The real me wants to watch sunsets,
hold a hand a little longer,
whisper “happy anniversary”
without the world’s applause.
To love quietly,
without an audience.
Yet the reel me pulls out the phone—
finds the perfect angle,
waits for the light,
pretends it’s effortless,
crafts a story to share.
And the world goes wild.
Notifications burst like fireworks,
because reach matters.
But being real?
It’s messy.
Unscripted.
Vulnerable.
Too raw for the polished squares of a digital wall.
Real people
aren’t always enough
for the digital world.
Silence doesn’t trend.
Content does.
So here we stand—
one body,
two worlds,
forever deciding
which self gets the spotlight.
The truth?
Neither is wrong.
Neither is whole.
Balance is the dance—
to post but not perform your soul,
to live but still witness,
to share but never surrender.
Because when the screen fades
and the battery dies,
peace—not reach—
is what remains.
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 11:10 AM UTC
Two hands traded a heart on the fourteenth. It wasn't flesh, but breath, blush, and a promise that would last forever.
It grew between them, a red vow sewn with whispers, a balloon of promises with a knot at the end of a shaking thread.
It is in the middle of the road today.
The wind pushes it around without care, moving it from one uncertain direction to another, as if even the air has forgotten where love was supposed to go.
It waits at the crossroads, alone, with its ribbon tangled in yesterday.
Cars go by.
Footsteps stop for a moment.
No one takes the promise that was once made with bright eyes.
It sways—it's not dancing anymore, just going with the flow, not knowing where it's going.
And maybe it knows what all weak things learn in the end: that air that lifts can also thin.
One day it will pop, not with anger or noise, but softly.
Letting go of what it once was, love dissolving into the air and going back to the sky that first taught it how to rise.
And somewhere, someone will take a deeper breath without knowing why it feels like February again.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 10:36 AM UTC
I was sitting in a silence I liked, which I called "peace of mind,"
while life kept calling me with hard, unanswered calls.
I was almost able to convince myself that giving up was rest.
Then I heard a sound: a stick tapping the road, steady and without fear.
A blind woman walked faster than I could think.
Each tap was sure, and each step knew where it had to go.
She couldn't see the road, but she believed in it.
I could see everything, but I didn't trust every step.
That little noise broke my chosen silence
and hit the part of me that had been giving up quietly.
Purpose rang out louder than sight.
And in that broken silence, I remembered how to move again.
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 9:36 AM UTC
When eve's dark hand descendeth, dropping,
Where fancies creep and whisperings invite to linger here,
She sits upon waters gray as stone,
Veiled in thought, the world stunned and far from here.
The pond gives back lights from ****** and vain,
A whirl of gold, a promise of delight,
But underneath the green and brooding quiet
Lie unrevealed secrets, and unbetrayed fates disposed.
She sits calm, a word unspoken
In mind, peace to stay and be given.
City noises, music so far,
But here she'll reside, peace recovered.
The furrowed brow in contemplation,
Of bygone days, of union.
World so big now—
But all that it contains is here, within.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 10:37 AM UTC
It was never a walk in the park to try and fit in the niche,
Patterns altered,
Values allocated differently,
Galaxies were spun,
Poles far apart -
When I turned into you.
Your algorithm modified,
Borders merged, goals changed,
But, the race starts again,
An endless search to find a place.
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 5:25 AM UTC
I walk these streets, silent and still,
Faces pass by, each chasing their will.
No words I offer, no call, no cheer,
In their worlds, they dwell—so far, so near.
Let them wander where their visions lie,
Beneath the same vast Nepali sky.
Dreams of theirs I do not intrude,
For in my quiet, I find my mood.
Am I rude to pass and not engage?
Or just a soul, freeing their stage?
Each moment they craft, I let it unfold,
A mosaic woven in threads untold.
Beneath these hills, in Kathmandu's grace,
I honor their rhythm, their time, their space.
For in this stillness, I see more clear—
A bond unspoken, yet ever near.
Let their paths shine, let them be,
As I journey within, just silently.
Nepali hearts, vast and deep,
In quiet respect, their space I keep.
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 12:40 AM UTC
A year about to die, its breath so frail,
Thrilled with joy for the new, we unveil.
Friends with wishes, they come, then fade,
A passing warmth, a shadow they’ve made.
Let not the new year be born so fast,
Hold the old, let its moments last.
Unfulfilled dreams of meeting remain,
Cherished old days we cannot regain.
Likes and comments now reign supreme,
Physical touch—just a distant dream.
No more a friend at a breath away,
Replaced by screens that steal the day.
Let not the new year stack wishes in vain,
Of meetings over tea, joy unrestrained.
Let this year stay, refuse to part,
And heal the longing in every heart.
Dec 31, 2024
Dec 31, 2024 at 9:57 PM UTC
Broken spirit
Its venom leaks out
Every word is a storm
Every silence is cold
In the end
Not every day is scheduled to be the same
Our hearts are just puppets in a cruel game of emotions
Maybe it's just a lost love
Gentle dirt sent from above
But the wound was as deep as a flying bullet
To see blood—some people enjoy it
But patience remains my quiet guide
Let the world tempt you, let suffering remain
I will wear defeat
My wounds are like a crown
Loss of the power that won't give up
Dec 27, 2024
Dec 27, 2024 at 11:18 AM UTC
In the almirah corner, it lay,
Day after day, untouched, unseen grey.
Dun and dusted, its shimmer gone,
Once proud, now forlorn.
It first adorned a joyous frame,
The groom's pride, a life to claim.
A new suit for a bride so fair,
Their union sealed, a love to wear.
From meetings to galas, it bore the strain,
Day in and out, through sunshine and rain.
Before mirrors, it struck a pose,
Before cameras, it proudly rose.
Time marched on, as time will do,
The suit's threads faded, its purpose too.
The owner retired, and with a sigh,
The suit found its place where old things lie.
Beside medicines and x-ray scans,
It watched the world through aging hands.
But love rekindled a gentle spark,
The suit was worn, its journey embarked.
No goals to chase, no grand parade,
Just a quiet walk in the evening shade.
With a smile that spoke of days well-spent,
The suit revived in an instant of love.
For the owner well knew, as wisdom grew,
The suit was something more than just threads and dye.
It held the story, the love, the pride,
A lifelong friend with him through the times that glide.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 10:21 AM UTC
Tonight, I’ll grieve with a silent heart,
For every bond that’s come apart.
For those who left, who chose their way,
I’ll weep for dreams that couldn’t stay.
Quietly, my tears will stream,
Bearing the weight of each lost dream.
No plea, no voice, no noise, no fight—
For those who moved on to the light.
With wishes warm and blessings kind,
Though paths may part, hearts unbind,
I’ll mourn for all that couldn’t stay,
For love that quietly slipped away.
If fault was mine, I bow my head,
In hands clasped, my sorrow spread.
Let me be the past you leave,
The distant tale you don’t retrieve.
Embrace the joy your present gives;
While I remain where memory lives.
And though these tears may flow and fade,
My grief’s unseen; my silence stayed.
Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 12:43 PM UTC