Binocular vision

We wander from dream to dream.

An ephemeral fantasy

to never settle

for a home,

for less than where we deserve.

Binocular vision

of mountains and snow.

The land of Washington

that legitimises our lives,

Miller and Monroe,

is within reach

through the binoculars.


I’d rather say.

For, with each passing sunset,

the colors change.

So, I wander, wander

in the pages of books.

Pirates, mermaids and Tintin

guide me.

I walk, I trek.

I bruise my soles.

Rocks after rocks after rocks

I tread.


let me rest.

I have seen the marvel,

and the despondence.

I have fed the starved,

and my whims.

I have traveled,

I have reposed.

But for how long

do you cross borders,


Lust, lust,

for endless vacation,

for endless polaroids,

from a 60’s movie.

My feet ache.

My heart grows heavy.

But this quest is not without reason.

I wander and wander.

Resolution, have you dipped in the Nile?

Is there no shelter for harmless lust?

No cloud, no daffodil,

no road less traveled,

leads me to

the languid lands where,

rain bows,

dances and shimmers.

I see leprechauns,

giving out golden laughter.

Not fake, this once.

I flip through terminals,

I crush cherry blossoms

under my soles.

My soul, has seen,

the utmost world.

Books, airplanes and movies, however,

cannot replace

where I’d rather

be blind to my wanderlust.

I miss the stench of monsoon,

how my country turns green.

And all my lust to wander over vales

is vanquished when I see

my roots, my paddy fields,

my red alluvium,

the breadth of my river,

catering to the ancient capital.

The steel bridge looming over it,

staring keenly at the red sun that has set.

The red calls to me,

“You are yet to see your own land,

discover the soil that your goddess

and you are made of.”

Wander, wander through the

alleys of history,

sit and see the lores being written.

Wander, wander and explore yourself.

All the world is upon your shoulder.

Free Atlas, and would you rather flee?

Or would you,

stay, stay

to wander?

Wander, and wonder.

Can you live?

Can you leave

the sky that has sowed you?

The sky that is yet to see

the seven colours



the Tri.

We search and search.

To wander,



Further and further

from the journey

of our lust.

Adrija Ghosh

English I A


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