hi..am bhavna and im from......uh...mmm...

They: so bhavna...where are u from?
me: i don't know...

5 seconds of awkward silence

they: well where is your home?
me: i don't kno...

silence again...then a fake smile from both the parties

they:ok...let's keep it simple. where is your family.
me: baroda......well as of now baroda.

they: what?
me: well they just moved in a day ago

they: ...
me:i gotta go...nice talking to you...

chandigarh, hoshiarpur, bareilly, chandigarh, mumbai, hyderabad, Kolkata and now Baroda...yes, u guessed it....my dad is in a bank....it ain't easy
just wn im sure that i have found "friends"...i know i gotta move away.....the word "home" doesn't mean mch to me
earlier i used to feel that it's a movement away from something with no sense of a "movement towards"...and it used to leave me helpless....
but now i have friends in all corners of India(thanks to my relatives that are spread throughout the country)..
it's amazing to have known so many cultures and so many different kinds of people..i still don't kno if it is a movement "towards" something but i think i have found my place...within

feels good to b home....

written by one of my favorite writers....

The devil is in the Dots

Hunger.Hope.love.novelty.excitement.knowledge.first crush.convention.morals.competition.academics.seperation.new friends.
discomfort.phoneys.solitude.focus.books.monotony.
loneliness.friends.inspire.enemies.inspire.teachers.conventions.
morals.attraction.lust.crush.romance.trust.betrayal.fantasy.reality.
focus.aim.morals.conventions.academics.hard work.
success.superficial.astray.sheep.morals.conventions.stigmas.
yearning.freedom.thought.pain.alcohol.addiction.friends.comfort.desire.pain.
alcohol.addiction.years.tears.change.first crush.friends.love.hope.courage.freedom.city.love.
hope.memories.desire.ambition.hopes.
hunger.hunger.hunger.hunger...




P.S : I know! ...

Tale of two cities

i saw the line today,
the line between Shanghai and Bombay.
The distance though small,
could not be covered at all.
Scared to meet the other's eye,
both shut their lids along with the hearts.
Stretching their arms
both try to meet
But alas!
The attempt is futile.
Perhaps,
trying is not enough...

Alive again!

Don't have much to say
Don't have much to do
Not much to be proud of
Not even a friend or two.

Wish I could go back
to the age of innocence-
the age of unknown answers.
Or better still,
rush to the age of reason-
the age of known questions.

I thought life was tough...!

But as the years roll on,
weird as it may seem;
I feel I've lived,
someone else's dream.

But now i know
what it is to 'be'
and i shout out loud,
I'M PROUD TO BE ME!!!!

Binding Vine - Shashi Deshpande

They called me mad
they, who cocooned themselves
in bristly blankets
and thought themselves warm
when I spoke of my soul
that boiled and seethed.

They called me mad
they, who were entranced
by a single white ray of light
when I spoke of the magic
of the seven colours in a prism.

it's just not about love...it's not...it's all about proving our love. that's when the trouble begins. in our attempt to tell the other person how much v love him/her....v lose ourselves.....next time when u lv someone...don't just keep rattling "i lv u", "i lv u"......just don't!!when u don't say it, the love automatically flows in your actions....and the other person will know.....

let there be spaces in our togetherness...

The Burried life- Mathew Arnold

But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquireInto the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us--to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
And many a man in his own breast then delves,
But deep enough, alas! none ever mines.
And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves--
Hardly had skill to utter one of all
The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
But they course on for ever unexpress'd.
And long we try in vain to speak and act
Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true!
And then we will no more be rack'd
With inward striving, and demand
Of all the thousand nothings of the hour
Their stupefying power;
Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
From the soul's subterranean depth upborne
As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
A melancholy into all our day.