Quill, Write Ups

Happy Birthday to Us

Aah… So we’re here, to our own surprise too.

So, just the way each one of us dies in wait of our birthdays to arrive even when we are brutally exposed to the truth summoner- the calendar which says with utmost inhumanity and emotionless gestures in the gravest possible voice, “Still over three months to go, daft.” We were no exception either.

And poor, teary-eyed, us- are left with no other option but to stare at the slipping sand just as nonchalant and graceless as its motion.

While the weirdest part is even after realizing our actions, the moment the hour strikes, we all jounce as if we were oblivious all this time, and the moment had occurred spontaneously.

Now, since I’ve clarified that the fundamental was but the same, allow me to proceed.

Well, it doesn’t really seem like twelve months already. And if I were to reminiscent, The Pocket Diaries was just another idea scribbled down on a random page of a random notebook, claiming itself to be the greatest concept ever.

And to be very honest, even I felt that it was just another blog that I’d put up run for a month or two and abandon. As if it was destined to face the same fate that former members of ‘attempt to be the greatest poet ever’ faced (a bit too realistic ;P). The good part, being, I realized that this dream wasn’t to be achieved alone.

Having access to wisest company- Nitesh Gaba- the one who gave form to this random scribble of mine, it didn’t take us long to manifest our dream – adrenaline rush is quite a thing.

Me, the ‘randomest’ guy, texts another ‘random poet’ on Instagram if she wishes to collaborate. Actually no, Puja Vardhan, isn’t a random poet, she has a distinctness of her own. Getting back, we have a good chat, doubts are cleared, the webpage is ready, posts are up and exactly at 10:52 p.m. of 31st of October, my birthday, I spread the links out.

Honestly, there is nothing special in the day- 1st of November, I just thought it would be cool, to get to celebrate and party for two consecutive days.

Now, the weird thing happens. The webpage actually starts to get some good responses. Suddenly, AdSense approves the account, Analytics shows a count of over 5K webpage views in a mere span of 53 days. And me, a boy who was 15 a couple of days back, starts to feel super important. I start building a proper team, I start taking seminars in local schools, I am coaching over 150 kids roughly of the same age, whoa… a proper fairytale, rather a Viking dream. Efforts and results.

Well, since everything was going as if scripted by a Bollywood writer, it was certain that I create a bubble around me. A bubble in which stood the mighty master. The weirdest part was, no one could prick my bubble. The wisest arrows carrying the lesson of humility shot at me- I cut each of them with my swords of pride. Failed, yet victorious, experience glared at me in sympathy and disgust as well, let’s call it my conscience as if saying “Beta, non-med lete time bhi meri baat nahi maani thi na, khud sochle ab.”

Well, guess what, I lost. And certainly, I was the happiest when it happened. The bubble, the invincible bubble was never pricked. That victory was my loss. I grew tired of it, tired of not being myself. Humility started dawning, the sense was coming back, the wisdom rose back, and conscience, my split personality said, “Lautke buddhu gharko aae.”

The bubble was never pricked, it was dissolved in its own toxicity.

If you try to live too early, you don’t live too well.

I launched my book later, T.P.D crossed 10K views, its audience was now over 20 countries wide, and watching myself in the newspapers became normal for a couple of days. I was happy…

I was just happy.

An underrated, yet an invincible statement.

A year of The Pocket Diaries, made me realize, it was never me. I am just a messenger. I don’t own TPD, it is in fact well above the possession of any single person. And what else could I have wished for? For me, and for probably all of us, T.P.D means love. And well, how could anyone possess love… After all,

Possession is the opposite of love.

An artist is the happiest when his art surpasses his own self.

I was wrong all this time, it was never Manan Verma- founder of the Pocket Diaries, it was always the opposite, The Pocket Diaries helped me find me.

Now, well since it was such a good script, you can find me sitting on the last bench, smiling like a stupid, writing poetry in the structures of benzene, reading, and cracking jokes. Naah… of course I haven’t turned into a ‘Sant’ retired from all the worldly desires… of course not, the passion burns like never before, the ‘josh’ is on its high. Backed with experience, a catalog of mistakes, I am proud of, and a sense of relief by improving on each.

Cheers to this amazing journey, the team, Kriti, Puja, Artman, Armaan, Nandini, Ehshaan, Sanya, Tanishq, Shria and a lot lot more.

Having all of you, your talents represented and showcased, nothing makes an artist happier.

I love you all…

Quill, Uncategorized

“Upar di gur gur di annexe di bedhiyaan di moong di daal of di…”

Aa kuch Mantoiyat ladaein…
Aa kuch Mantoiyat sajaein…

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyan o mung di daal of di lalteen.”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of di Pakistan gornament.”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of di Toba Tek Singh gornament. .”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of di laaltein.”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana di mung di daal of wahay Guru ji da Khalsa wahay Guru ji di fatah. Jo bolay so nahal sat sri akal!”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di be-dhiyana mang di daal of di Toba Tek Singh and Pakistan!”

“Upri di gur gur di annexe di bedhiyana di moong di daal of di Pakistan and Hindustan of di durr phitey muhn”

Toba Tek Singh!!! Toba Tek Singh!!! Toba Tek Singh… Hindustan mein Toba Tek Singh… Pakistan mein Toba Tek Singh… Hindustan mein Pakistan… Pakistan mein Hindustan… Hindustan mein Hindustan… Pakistan mein Pakistan… Toba Tek Singh… Hindustan ya Pakistan?

Toba Tek Singh

Write Ups

Happy Birthday. Umm..?

Yet again, continuing the tradition of our last wish*, this time we’ll be wishing/ acknowledging/accrediting I don’t even know if a word for it exists or not but the man, who.. (excuse me for my inconsistency or grammar… emotions are overpowering) so, the man who probably is the sole reason for why THE POCKET DIARIES exists.

The most selfless man one could ever come across, the limitless, the actual definition of ‘self-made’, the sheer manifestation of nonpareil and indeed the perfect example of ‘A notorious elder brother’.

Trust me, once you meet Nitesh Gaba, your life would never be the same.

A lot of people told me what I can be, a lot of people tell people what they can be, but you, you made me what I am, you make people what they can be. You made this family, you made this community, I might be the face of this worldwide linkage, but you are the soul of THE POCKET DIARIES.

Happy Birthday, Fufu… And yeah trust me, I was dying to wish you since 12:00… But, I thought why to wish first as an individual, when you can wish on behalf of an entire family.

P.S. There is so so so so much more to write but trust me, you are exactly what makes one speechless. I don’t have enough words to… I don’t know… I love you. I just… You are the best.

Poetry, Quill

तुम, चाँद और चंद राज़

सरकते हुए टूटी खिड़की के बाजू से 
तुझे लोरी गुनगुनाते हुए सुनने 
चाँदनी आ पहुँची

अंदर झुकी तो देखा 
तू आँखें मूँद गोद में लिए 
बचपन का सर सहला रही थी

गाल तेरे कुछ नम थे 
और खयालों में तेरे मिट्टी

राज़ सारे जान 
भाग पड़ा इस ओर यह चाँद 
पर बोल पड़े इससे पहले कुछ
सत-रंगी हो गया आसमान

ख़ैर झट्ट से तुमने भी छिपा लिया बचपन 
ओढ़ कर ज़रूरतों का दुपट्टा

नज़रें पलटकर देखा तो रोज़गार की रेल चल गयी
मिलेंगे आज रात फिर बोलकर चांदनी ढल गयी

Poetry, Quill


रौंगते कुचलते चले इन पत्तों को
किसी पर सपने पढ़ा
तो किसी पर लिखा था यादें
किसी ने सुना सिसकियों को
तो किसी ने छुई सीपियाँ

चलते हुए तरक्की की धुप में
जाने कहाँ से ‘क्यों’ का ख्याल आया
फुर्सत में बैठ, जज़्बे की छाँव में
खुदसे बात करें, फिर दिल में मलाल आया

मुस्कुराते हुए बैठे ज़मीन पर
तो देखा यहां भी पूरी दुनिया बसी थी
साला, तब जाने
लोग तो हर जगह ही उतने है
यह तो ख़ुशी है जिसकी कमी थी

Poetry, Quill

बैठ गया हूँ फिर…

बैठ गया हूँ फिर अपनी छोटी सी यह डायरी लेकर,
कानों में आवाज़ तेरी,
चेहरे पर मुस्कुराहट है,
एक हाथ में कलम और दूजे में तेरा हाथ है.

ख़ैर पता तो था घंटे भर की बात है सारी
आखिर कानों में आवाज़ है अब भी तेरी
चेहरे पर भी मुस्कुराहट है
एक हाथ में कलम पर दूजे में अब
सिर्फ तेरा एहसास है.



With all your love and support, ‘THE POCKET DIARIES’ is going miles and miles…

Do check out our newly established YouTube channel.

Search for our channel, The Pocket Diaries.

Or eitherway search ‘Manan Verma’ and check out, what happened

When Motivation met Humor


Quill, Write Ups


“Hey Olivia, can you please call her.”

“Call who? there’s no one standing here but the two of us.”

“You are but in looking the wrong direction. Check yet again, and this time beneath these thick layers of necessities. See her now?”

“Are you mad. There is no one else here.”

“She is right here, look straight from my eyes, there she stands- Olivia. Please call her.”

“You idiot, you’re asking me call myself. What is wrong with you.”

“Oh Olivia dear, I’m asking you to call Olivia.”

“What are you. You thick skull. Olivia and Olivia are the same person.”

“How can you two be the same person. You are but a slave to your own thoughts, a slave to your own self constantly living in fear of falling, in fear of failing. constantly trying and trying and trying but not knowing as to what are you trying to claim. While on the other hand the one of whom I speak of, she is a free soul rather she is a feeling, a feeling to live, a feeling to express herself and she is not bound by fears of earning $100,000, or fear to make herself a living and acquiring the so-called prestige of our society. Rather her primary objective is to maintain that precious smile on her face. To ensure that the little girl in her, she continues to survive and not just survive but continues to smile as well.”

“And you befool me saying you are but the same people. Moron you are.
For you even need another soul, to differentiate between yours and your body.”

Quill, Write Ups

2019! With a bang

Ola! Wishing you a very Happy New Year!!

Oh these 365 days passed real quick, but the moments, the moments they brought with them, blended slowly yet surely into our lives, from the little harsh fights to sweet sensetive memories, we got all of it.

But now as the year departs, lets actually brace ourselves up and rather merely celebrating the fact the earth revloved around the sun once, let’s actually make up a resolution to break the limits like never before, to give the best of ourselves and to make this year the biggest of our entire lifetime…

Wishing you the very best once again and hoping you surely give in every morsel of yours into the process of making your dream come true.