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.

Brevity, Quill


35 years strangled in emptiness, she survived just to feel him again,

Credits to his busy schedule only the wreath upon her door did.

Poetry, Quill

The Peasant’s Sophie

Ahoy!!! hope you are all doing well. Today, your humble servant, presents forth you the first part of probably his longest poetry and the very first ballad… So, here it is… enjoy the first 2006 characters… 😉 

Once on an isle, made of Glee,
A peasant fell in love with a maiden,
Called Sophie.
They were young kids back then, immature and guile,
Yet pretentious of wisdom Sophie cried,
“What purpose do I fill of yours? Obsessed with my slender waist and lissom neck, or something else that you adore?”

“Nothing much superficially to be obsessed, just the tenderness you carry within besides the way you dress”
said the peasant with a wry smile and suddenly “pardon” surprised Sophie replied.

“Oh! You’ve heard already, what I said,
It’s just the novice way to address”
Hiding her lovely smile, beneath the protest “Aren’t you afraid of my family’s power” she said.

“Fear is relative term I think, and seeing your beauty it ought to sink.”
“How unabashed peasant you are… Feel the agitation of the hour.
You’re talking to the daughter of grantor, seeing you behavior he may begin a war.”

“A war killing innumerable for a spark of love. If the grantor pleases so, I’m afraid soon it will be a land of crows.”

P.S. : The title MAY be temporary, wait for the complete update and continue reading my first ballad.


Happy Birthday Ishtpreet

Continuing our traditional of probably the last yet lovely birthday wish, today we feel gleeful and honored to wish none other than our very own Ishtpreet Singh Cheema.

Oh, he is the person who’s got that passion burning in his eyes, who’s got dreams touching the skies, yet the roots right in the ground and indeed the guy who’s got euphony in his voice. 

Battling all the obstacles in his way, the sixteen year old has already won innumerable completions and hearts.

With already three of your official Punjabi tracks published, we all wish you a journey where you never look back.

Brevity, Quill


Distant from the gigantic world, an island called humanity was living peacefully and alone.

But on that dark stormy night, a child named joy was born, soon to this counterpart, the evil hawk was drawn

Who in fear of losing his position snatched away all the smiles,

And threw them into the sea of plight.
A tale too little, yet toe large, A tale too blunt for the questions too sharp.