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A Traveler's Saga

Photo taken at Plitvice National Park, Croatia by Vibhor Dhote Oh! What are these days I have found myself in! The bagpacks I carry no longer feel that heavy; What have they lost if not for a few coins, a few notes, some letters written long ago, a few locks, a few clothes? Or is it the loss of some fears, some shackles, some thoughts tied to their waist belts several years ago? Where is the fatigue? Where are the tears that drenched my pillow? Where is the inability to wake up early in the morning and the incessant desire to sleep forever? Today, every time I close my eyes, I need to type, I need to write. Where is the indolence, the procrastination, the lack of, as I would say whenever they ask, the "limited time"? What is this insouciance called? Where have eloped the eternal need for love, money and the things I've already sold? Why Plath has shut her eyes today whom I so deeply adored? Bukowski's Bluebird is set free now while Sahir's pleas
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Not All Women

I remember I once told a woman How I felt  And how terrible things happened And how I couldn't sleep at night For there were fears Of predators lurking around my home Looking for the next prey they would eat up whole I remember I bared out my heart and soul I remember I couldn't breathe as I stopped my heart to beat To tell her how I really, really feel How I wake up and I just want to go back to sleep How broken memories of a broken me Shattered my past, my present, my dreams... I told her how I needed a new home.. And she said, 'hold a second, I got a call' And she walked away for a while And came back as if nothing happened As if she didn't hear anything I just said As if she wanted not to be where I am Yet she didn't want me to be the one pulling me up, making me whole She wouldn't want to be my friend She wouldn't want anything more to know And later would pass around my past To other ears, of other people who didn't kno

Exploring Pyramid Valley and my Public Transport Fiasco

So I haven't blogged in a long, long time but my self-enforced expedition on myself made sure I write this travelogue. Let me tell you how I landed up where I am currently writing this- an empty bus I am seated on from the past one hour. It was a long weekend and I was tired of the  idea of visiting beaches or metros on unplanned weekends. So a week back, I decided to visit this place called Pyramid Valley which I found on a listicle suggesting weekend getaways from Bangalore. The twist in my plan was that I will land up there by taking public transport and figuring out my way as I go. I was eager to breathe in the dust-filled air while traveling on a public transport without worrying much about the time taken while traveling. Me to myself: I was supposed to start early in the morning because of the timings at Pyramid Valley (9am to 6pm). But I woke up at 9.30am and left my house only at about noon. So I packed clothes for a one-night stay at the place. Leaving fro

Testimonials

B for Book Review " This book is filled with poems about loss and closure and for me it was heavy stuff. It takes you back to things you went through in the past and although it might re-open some wounds it may also bring some solace and give you a push to go on. If you are struggling, give it a try. No need to finish the book in one go. You can take you time and read one a day, one a week, one a month, … at your leisure. They are beautiful and I am happy I took the time to open my mind to them. 4 stars. " - Els, Book Reviewer from Belgium on The Art of Letting Go Clare Shaw " Many of these poems are painful to read but they still made me smile with recognition. It's a comforting thing to see yourself reflected on the page. So you won't be surprised that "Moving On" was one of my favourites! And how so many poems in this collection make a lie of it - you do move on! I loved the fierce imagery of "Burning Bridges and "Moonlit

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Following are URLs where my quotes and articles have been featured- Tangy Tuesday Picks Tips to gracefully accept your late-twenties Sanhita Baruah - Premium Luster Photo Paper Poster Thirty Seconds Of Hope Be A Better Person Picture Quotes Your Tango - 50 Quotes About Self-Reflection To Inspire You To Take Better Care Of Yourself 50 I miss you quotes and messages 14 Best Quotes About Being Single, Because It's Something To Celebrate Gopalpur- an idyllic weekend getaway Top 31 wise famous quotes and sayings by Sanhita Baruah CELEB BUZZ: Chipukeezy is a talented entertainer but a bad TV host 30 Comforting Quotes About Missing Someone You Love Cartoons for All! Here is how they teach us Crucial Life Lessons peace 27 Quotes to Inspire Your Career Change Spring, glorious spring! First Step Publishing Author Sanhita Baruah Sanhita Baruah Quotes Motivational Quote Word Porn Sanhita Baruah Popular Quotes Best Quotes Sanhita Baruah An evenin

Years of Overcoming Sexual Harassment

Most evenings tension lines form on my forehead. Most nights I can’t sleep well. I make sure the door is locked, I make sure the windows are closed, the curtains are drawn, and one or two lights remain turned on. I don’t know if growing up means living in fear because you know too many truths about how the world works. I am not sure if I can call myself very practical or a little paranoid. They say a child knows no fear and they only acquire it as they grow up through various environments. It would be fair to blame it all on my environment- toxic, untrustworthy, full of criminals. But I seldom find any solace in being blame-free. I would blame my own fearfulness as much as I would blame the environment. It was easier as a child to forgive myself, mostly because I thought when I’d grow up I’d be perfect. That there would be no mis-happenings, if that’s a word. * One really cannot blame a thirteen-year old coming back from school in public transport, wearing a decent uniform,

Tea-stains on my T-shirt

Image Source: Huffpost I wouldn’t think of it much If the tea I so love to drink Wouldn’t have found a genius way To trickle down my white t-shirt Leaving a stubborn brown stain. She would then find her way down Every time I wear a white top. If what I wear is already stained, She doesn’t bother to leave her mark again; Maybe she knows to not knock the same door twice, Maybe she identifies her own marks. There are seasons when I love to wear white But I can never wear the ones I own, not again Because her scars don’t leave And I can never give up on a cup of tea, So I let her spill and stay where she wants to be. If the top’s not white, she doesn’t bother to drain Maybe she knows to not hurt the ones that don’t feel pain. I never spill her on my black cardigan- She is picky that way, not to fall for anyone. Every white t-shirt I have ever owned Screams of her taste, of her skin tone, I wouldn’t mind losing so many clothes If it weren

In the Pitstop of the Race...

I cannot stress on the fact enough that life has changed after working. Well, it should because what good is stagnancy anyway. After a year of working, I find myself tired by the second half of the day. No wonder, every time I take a flight I doze off even before the flight takes off. I remember, I was traveling on New Year ’s Day and the flight was delayed by multiple hours. That was the first time when I woke up from a nap on a flight and didn’t find myself on air or on a different city. I woke up and we were still at the take-off area. But I had a good nap anyway. It was last week when I took an afternoon flight but couldn’t fall asleep for some reason. Like most journeys I was seated near the window, but unlike my previous journeys, this time I looked out of the window. We were just a couple of metres above of the clouds but the view was great. A blue horizon on a sea of clouds. I was lucky enough to spot a rainbow amidst the cirrus; the hues getting clearer with