This Wanderlust

β€œA nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places.” ― Isabelle Eberhardt

Through the years, many things on my bucket list have changed but the one that never changed was my wish of being a wanderer – as free as the wind that blows and tends to soothe this tired soul.

I wish to see lands far and away, the marks of nature that have been passed down from generation to generation. I wish to see the world that my forefathers toiled for and I want to explore the world that someday the eyes of my descendantsΒ will see.

Have you too wondered if humans were made to discover the world instead of putting down their roots at one place – living and then dying without exploring the planet they inhibit?

Doesn’t it seem wasteful to live and die at a place, when you have just one shot at life?

β€œNo one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” ―  Lin Yutang

I do not want to die before I get to see the world. I want to go to the east and the west, to the north and the south. I wish to touch nature’s serenity and fill life’s vibrations to the core of my being.

Sometimes I wonder if it was really necessary to band together as countries, races, castes and various such groups that today have made us forget the most important thing – humanity. What kind of a world that would have been?

On a lighter note, at least it would mean no hassles of passports and visas.

What about you? Do you suffer from wanderlust? How do you satisfy it?



Listening to Taylor Swift today, the old album β€˜Fearless’ of course, takes me back to simpler times – nostalgia wrapping me in its warm blanket, cocooning my tired soul from the idleness of my mind and restlessness of my thoughts.

I am remembering the simpler moments of the past, which surprisingly are the happiest times I reckon.

It’s strange how humans run after all these luxuries, accomplishments, goals and yet, in the end, it is these simpler times – the laughter shared with your sibling in the backyard, the game of tug of war with friends, your mother’s warm embrace and your father’s strong arm that swing you back and forth up in the air – that are itched in your memory, staring back at you from the pages of days past.

Who remembers every moment of failure or even accomplishment? But we all remember what came before all these failures or wins – the beginning, the dream. We remember cradling that dream in our arms for the first time, surprised to find you even have it. We remember how it felt to share it for the first time with the people in our life.

Today, in this nostalgic moment, I feel at peace with myself; away from the troubles and aspirations of the present.

Today, I realize it is these simpler moments, these little specks in time that matter the most. I now know that the happiest moment is now – this moment I am holding in my hands. It’s precious and delicate and it’s here. And I am thankful for all the precious people who make life worth living.


Coffee Break #3

Dear Reader,

How has your month been? Did you get to travel somewhere new? I did. Although I’ve been in the city before but I never got a chance to stop there. But this time I did, and it was an experience that made me realize how different people and the way they hold themselves can be in spite of the similarities they share.

It isn’t always about money, education or their place in society. Sometimes people can surprise you if only you decide to give them a chance. I was awed by the innocence of some and irked by the smugness of others.

There were strangers who were familiar and vice-versa. I took a chance and stepped out of my comfort bubble for a bit and was rewarded accordingly. I could boost about some of it, yet, there are Β still things I could have done if only my courage didn’t falter at the last-minute.

To sum it up, this month has been a lesson to me, an experience of its own making. Hopefully, I have come a step closer to understanding this world we inhibit.

How did you spent June?


FriendΒ –

A mother’s love knows no bound

It stays the same – beyond space, beyond time

The one best friend a child can have

A warrior with the heart of an angel

Her child’s forever best friend.

*** Sketch and poem by Jeiji.


*** in response to The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge



evΒ·aΒ·nesΒ·cent [evΙ™Λˆnes(Ι™)nt]

Soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.


When I was a kid, I remember sparrows flocking our front-garden at the break of dawn to gather the grains my mother would scatter on the ground for them. For years it was a daily ritual in our family because our culture believes feeding these beings who can not speak for themselves is the ultimate sacred task.

As happens with urbanization, slowly the chirping of these friends of mine started decreasing. By the time I was in high school, it became just a memory to be nostalgic about because my little friends were nearly extinct in my city.

Several years later my family moved to a new place and to my utmost pleasure and surprise, I’ve been reunited with these childhood friends of mine. There is nothing more pleasing than waking up to their chirping early in the morning.

Of course it means sharing my room with these little hellions who love to build their nest in whateverΒ space they may find in my room. And with it comes the added responsibility of quickly switching off all the fans in theΒ house before any of them can get hurt as they fly about in the house as the lord of the mansion.

Don’t you think my surprise visitors are quite cute?


Roots – The Veins within

Photo source : Pinterest

You and I share a bond

Thicker than blood

Past ages… beyond time.

Hidden in the mysteriesΒ 

A shadow long gone

You are a book whose page

I itch to turn.

β—‹ β—‹ β—‹

Is it true?

The rumours I hear,

Are you for real

The root in my veins?

If I could trace back the time I seek

What will the chalice of fate hold still?

I wonder if you’re the root I see

When my world is red

And the shadows weep.

Β  Β  Β  β—‹ β—‹ β—‹

Hold still, a whisper I hear

The answers you seek

Can ne’er be seen

For the naked eye of human

No truth can see

Β  Β  Β  β—‹ β—‹ β—‹

Is this you?

Comes my anxious yell

But all is vain

As you keep your mum

And so the voice in Β my soul

Turns back to the roots that once held.

Β  Β  Β  β—‹ β—‹ β—‹


*** in response to The Daily Post’sΒ Weekly Photo Challenge

β–  》》》


My Music Diary #4

сопрано | Introverted Boss

Google Translate tells me that this song is in Russian. Not that I would know. But then music is the language of the soul. And this song here has definitely touched my soul. I think it is quite safe to say that this will make into my ‘writing inspiration’ playlist. Ohhh… the feels! The feels!!!

Music : ΠœΠΎΡ‚ feat. Ани Π›ΠΎΡ€Π°ΠΊ – Π‘ΠΎΠΏΡ€Π°Π½ΠΎ
Drama : Introverted Boss
Have I watched this drama : Not Yet.

Day-dreaming β™‘


сопрано | Introverted Boss

Home – Photography 101


Home to me is where I can relax and be myself, a place where there is no pretention to be somebody else. A place where I can sip my coffee as I sit at the backdoor and watch the birds fly in the early morning sky and listen to the music that softly plays in my phone placed next to me.  

I am home when I can curl in my bed or the comfortable corner of my room and read my book without someone hovering over my shoulders to see what I am reading. To me, I am home when I can work on my desk in peace – whether it be sketching,painting, daydreaming, writing or pouring out my thoughts in my diary without a sense of time or place.

Home to me is ME when I am being silly in front of the mirror or dancing in the shower to the beat in my head. Because home is HOME.