Mohit Mamoria (मोहित वर्डस्मिथ)

Words are fire, and I still play with them.
Mohit Mamoria 18 JAN AT 23:15

In all those goodbyes,
We didn’t realize,
One turned out to be,
The last one.


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Mohit Mamoria 16 JAN AT 18:04

Never gonna tell you how to live your life,
Never gonna hold you back either,
For all I know, in any of your craziness,
If I ever saw you tremble, afraid or quiver,
I’ll hold your hand, and be your cheerleader.


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Mohit Mamoria 2 JAN AT 9:44

Lost a sock,
Under the bed
Have you ever?
Then looked for it,
In the entire house,
To find nowhere?

One random day,
Looking for something else,
You spot it right there,
The lost sock,
And it completes the pair.

She’s that sock,
Found out of the blue,
When I was unaware,
Under very own bed,
Answering the prayer,
That I was making,


24 likes · 3 comments · 1 share
Mohit Mamoria 24 DEC 2018 AT 21:45

Let’s play a game,
I be the land,
You be the sky,
I down here,
You hopelessly high,
Yet just like how,
Mountains kiss the clouds,
We kiss each other tonight.

After the kiss,
Clouds will snow,
Covering the mountain,
That it won’t even show,
That’d be the kiss,
On this Christmas Eve I know,
I am standing right here,
Under the mistletoe.


18 likes · 1 share
Mohit Mamoria 23 DEC 2018 AT 19:45

सर्दियों की रात,
बुझता हुआ अलाव,
मुलायम तेरा इश्क़,
गहरा इसका घाव,
शांत सा दरिया,
उसमे गोते खाती नाव,
डूबना है संभव,
और तैरना मेरा चाव।


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Mohit Mamoria 19 DEC 2018 AT 23:45

Practicality is someone else's limit of optimism.


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Mohit Mamoria 19 DEC 2018 AT 14:46

Atoms or energy,
Even stardust for that matter,
Question is not,
Whether you are matter,
Question is instead,
Whether you matter.


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Mohit Mamoria 15 DEC 2018 AT 18:35

Among the all,
Who came to leave,
The one who stayed,
Was difficult to believe,
For she was complete,
And so was I,
And then she gave,
To me a part of her,
And I handed her,
A part of mine,
Part by part,
She became me,
I became her,
She became mine,
I became hers,
Both still complete,
Yet each other's.


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Mohit Mamoria 13 DEC 2018 AT 21:41

When I often write, I wonder, to be a writer, you have to be both great and worst at arguing.

Great to come up with an argument.

Worst to still lose to the people you love.

And that's how... an argument becomes a musing as the midnight strikes.


27 likes · 1 share
Mohit Mamoria 10 DEC 2018 AT 9:34

Fallen, broke and heartbroken,
Armour that hides I am broken,
Is beaten by the bottle of jam,
That simply refuses to open.


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21 likes · 3 comments · 2 shares
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