The human charade is coming to an end
A new age will soon descend
The parade of faithful lies is no longer a trend
Because we have moved towards a colder drench.

The sapien is no longer the mighty
Something much smaller has become more witty

The long standing race has begun late
With blessings from the almighty grace
We will soon begin with the chase.

There will soon come a mortal soul,
With an imprint on it's goal.

We are no longer the foremost in the chase .
Never will be
Because we have exhausted ourselves

With no medics at our bay
We will soon sway
With a snap, Thanos's way...

                      ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

I am no longer crucified; but
Still holding the esoteric identity
That no talisman would object.
I am still battling the demon
Within me;
I am still waiting for the hours to
fill in.
I am still longing for the moment
to bill in.

I am no longer coot;
But surprisingly,
Still trying to declare something refute.
I am just an object to your talisman;
Waiting for the ultimate order.
Order from chaos is what everyone wants
But,
What I want is no longer hidden from the
Dark tricks of destiny.

I am no longer mundane,
To the emptiness or the void
Still deterring, the dark empty horizon,
Still following the path of the esoteric,
Still longing for the feeling of the belonging...

~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

I scroll through those dust filled pages,
Reminding myself of those bygone days
When the face glowed with sharp sun rays
And the rain moisturized the skin all the way.

I see those little fingers
Still learning to write
And those small chubby legs,
Still trying to take their first step.

Better did I know,
That life would take me to such a junction
Where giving those legs some rest,
would become a rather rusty function.

I stare at myself, laugh and smile
But just then, a tear rolled down my left eye
I search for those lost smiles
In my high end mirror glasses
But the only comfort that I find
Is in those dark empty shadows and glasses of wine.

What fun do you find in those two second mirror selfies
When I still remember the endless
wait for those good old
Vintage camera clicks with
members of each family

Better did I know,
That these vintage memories
would one day make me cry
While I search for that
behind the scenes little face,
Still learning to mould clay,
No matter she failed at each try.

I know that it's too late,
But I still recall those days
When I left those safety hands
And walked on my own big legs.
Now, that I have this good old stick,
I scroll through those dust filled pages
With my trembling hands for weeks..

No wonder I can still smell that old baby talcum
So glad, that I finally found this
Good old, Lost Album..

                   ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

The alarm has stopped ringing
And, I want to get out
I want to smell the white dahlias
And see the blooming Bougainville
But I got to hold tight
For it won't be right.

Morning stroll has taken a troll
For god's sake, I am bored at home
Doing nothing has become an ideal chore
And now, I feel like fat Thor.

What situation is this
When the air is right
But we haven't earned the celebration right

I miss those gleaming laughter therapies
But I won't risk my family hierarchy
My hands are trembling;
My eyes are dim and white
But I manage to pull through a smile for those at the frontline...

                   ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

Every moment I blink,
I recall those lifeless limbs
That is when, I play those old films,
And laugh at how much I was slim.
And dressed like a crazy chimp
Then she'd come to prank me from behind
And I'd cry like an old baby grind.

Now, a smile stretches out and evaporates
As I wish for it to happen again
To live that life again
And, to get pranked once again.

But now,
Every moment I blink,
I recall myself clinging to those lifeless limbs,
Wishing for those to move
And take me to a weekend *****..
I can hear her cough and sing
But she never cares to leave a trace behind
Probably, another game of hunt, Miss Pride

I need you to speak,
And call me a wimp
I promise, I won't mind
Just move those lifeless limbs, lethargic Miss Pride...

                                                   ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

It still just seems like a terrible terrible nightmare...

Where people are dying like moths and rodents
With no end in sight to this dramatic torment

It still just seems like a Terrible terrible nightmare...

Where the roads are empty
But the eyes are filled with fear and pain.
It seems like a war with an Invisible Entity
That is taking down people in surprisingly huge quantity.
It seems that the world would never be the same
Because we might have moved far away in this never ending game

It still just seems like a Terrible terrible nightmare
Somebody please make a **** vaccine for this virus, so rare...

               ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

My head is aching or...
Is it my heart.
My heart is speaking the words of my mind
And my mind is acting rational as always.
Trapped is the one, who lives in misery.
Trapped I am, in the hands of destiny
If destiny, really defines the future,
How do I convince it to change its nature.

There are two opposite sides of reality,
Where is the protagonist? Because all that I see is the antagonizing reality.
If God really is the ultimate truth,
Where is the long standing end?
Is it behind those curtains of haunted
Shadows and blinding memories ?
Or, in those old pictures where pain
Hides behind innocent smiles.
Is it the nostalgia or the painful memoirs
Or, the faithful lies ?

I give up,
Giving up are the words of the timely defeated
Or is it the deafening reality that
Haunts the long forgiven.
My head is aching and my heart is crying.
Please hear me before I go towards
the drenched cold...

~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

Those merry beautiful eyes
Are now dim and white
Those playful giggles have now
Turned into gossiping delight
Colorful rainbows no longer provide
an ode to Joy
Happy faces now seem just a
Bizzare antique toy

What age has now dawned upon?
Where even the rain comes uninvited
And guests are no longer gods.

I recall those days
When paper boats were a joy
And not everyone looked like a coy.

I sit on my Italian marble
Thinking of those filthy muddy roads
Where a smile was not a formality
But rather a voluntary chore...

                 ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

We are a hurled pawn,
A piece of trajectory and envoy,
Trapped in the hologram,
With nowhere to escape
We are reaching out; begging to     be let out.
There is a force, a force which
Is pushing us.
Pushing towards the dead-end.
The end looks quaint and weary;
With a queer sense of remorse.
The pristine core looks obliterated;
With a convoluted Carte Blanche..

                ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

I am Quarantined.
Quarantined, by the hands of humanity
I open my little shutter,
Only to stare in the empty void,
Total Darkness, that's all I find,
I scream and shout
Longing for someone to hear,
But what I am going through,
Is nothing that one can care
I watch everything, my little
Shutter moves frantically,
Trying to take in every moment.
I suppress myself, but to no gain.
I wait for the moment to step out.
But only to be put back again,
More strongly, more rapidly
I struggle and suppress
Trying to break open the chains that
Bore me,
Only to find out that it's locked,
Locked with a key, that is
Yet to be found,
Or lost somewhere,
Lost in the dark.....

                       -Nikita Mansinghka