A poem about a loss of love, and a consequent feeling of being homesick for solace and a place of comfort. A reminder that a house is not a home.
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Where Currents Meet
A poem about a loss of love, and a consequent feeling of being homesick for solace and a place of comfort. A reminder that a house is not a home.
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By: Krutika Puranik We are all pieces of what’s left of our parents. Your mother’s eyes, father’s ears, an aunt’s height. I often sit amidst my family and wonder if they see themselves in me. The way I slip a strand of hair discreetly behind my ear, the way my eyes turn into the colour…
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By Vasundhara Singh The undercurrents of a mercurial afternoon were still vibrating under my skin as I sat alongside my father in the back seat of a Toyota car after my last board exam. Almost 5 years have gone by since the tempestuous day but I am often reminded of the friends I left behind…
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A poem about home being a feeling, instead of a place.
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