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Scribbles: 08 June 2014
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2014_06_08_archive.html
Two poems and photography. Faces and words –. Of an unknown way,. Some of these to. Inner mind, so that. Of your intentions,. Then they go away,. Leaving behind a vacuum. To be filled by. Other faces and words. Are You a Dream or Am I? As if I am a dream,. You are my reality;. You come into me. When I am awake,. In my sleep I am. In someone else’s arms;. When I look at myself. On a glass, I am. Amazed every time –. I couldn’t be real-. Because if I am. You must be a dream. Poetry and Photography ©. 169; ...
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Scribbles: Sunshine
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2013/07/sunshine.html
Imagine you and I are sitting. Under a clear blue sky,. A lone cloud sailing across. The horizon behind us striking us. With cool rays which mix with. Sweetened breeze from the ocean. To create an ambience of tranquility. Imagine I am humming a soft tune. And you holding my hand to caress. And reassure your presence now and forever. People passing by smiling at this picture. Of tenderness and peace. But did this not happen. Is this what they call. Or is it one of my daydreams. With a cool sunshine.
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Scribbles: 23 April 2014
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2014_04_23_archive.html
I am repaying debts,. Creating new ones – for. A bird spreading its. Wings to fold them back. Again and again,. On its feathers are written. Words of wealth, desire,. Envy and fear,. Its colours shining bright,. People spot it from. I wait for it. To fly away;. Now and then the bird. Wings fully – so enormous. That its shadow covers. Me – it flies,. I see old love. Standing still – I thought. I had put it away,. I must have kept a. Door open; with it. Are waiting longing,. Hope, all are together -.
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Scribbles: 14 March 2014
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2014_03_14_archive.html
It’s like a drug,. It’s definitely an addiction. What is it in you. That I loathe to come. Closer to you but. Hate being away for long? Is it love that makes me. Sleepy, tires me in and out,. Overwhelms me when I come away. But gives sweet dreams. And a glow on my face. When I am with you? Anything else is not enough. I simply want this – and only this –. Poetry and Photography: Sanchita C 2014. Posted by Sanchita C. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). My work can be found here. Scribbles by Sanchita Chatterjee.
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Scribbles: by the river Ganga
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2011/07/by-river-ganga.html
By the river Ganga. Hanging out in the evening. Evening light reflects on water. Buildings dot the river edge. Looking for coins thrown by devotees. One of many factories next to the river. A leaf immersed in the river by some believer. The belief is that Mother Ganga can absorb, wash and purify every thing. Now a flower thrown by a devotee. A pair of fishes - at last some thing which belongs to the river! Posted by Sanchita C. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). My work can be found here.
sanchitac.blogspot.com
Scribbles: 12 April 2014
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2014_04_12_archive.html
You know life is tough. When you try to change. And the equation refuses. You read some lines,. Hear some words,. Take a stroll,. You try to accept. But you cannot; and you are. Giving up, you neither. Accept nor try to change. Now you just smile. Photography and verse: Sanchita C 2014. Posted by Sanchita C. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). My work can be found here. Scribbles by Sanchita Chatterjee. Journeys in words and pictures. By the river Ganga. The end of dreams.
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Scribbles: Colours and Surprises - North Bengal Village Fair
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2015/03/colours-and-surprises-north-bengal.html
Colours and Surprises - North Bengal Village Fair. I knew it would be a village fair but wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Would there be a big ground lined by stalls at its edges with a vast near-empty space in the middle and a big wheel and other rides in one corner? Or would it be a small area packed with people, shops and rides where one will be pushed, pulled and compressed? Next to the Temple. The faces of people I saw around me intrigued me. Their features were different from that seen in othe...
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Scribbles: the end of dreams
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-end-of-dreams.html
The end of dreams. All the dreams were crushed. The moment I finished talking. The dreams which did not. Stop even when I had given up,. The dreams which transformed. Into fantasies when I managed. To squeeze myself into an empty corner. Or found my own space – often. In the middle of chaos and screams,. The dreams which filled me. With warmth and hope,. The dreams which came. When I was not talking to you. And some times after we talked. But now – after a dry-. Between two friends who. By the river Ganga.
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Scribbles: 02 July 2014
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2014_07_02_archive.html
I chose Pondicherry for its spiritual connection. I was also curious about its French-ness. I visited Pondicherry (or Puducherry) with my parents many years ago – in mid-1990s - so I somewhat knew what to expect. I wondered whether I would see the place with different eyes almost 20 years after my first visit. After checking in my heritage hotel (La Maison Toumele - the Tamil Mansion,. Touching head on Aurobindo Ashram wall. Lounging about in Auroville. I am sure I could use my talents to sustain myself.
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Scribbles: 01 March 2014
http://sanchitac.blogspot.com/2014_03_01_archive.html
A little bit of everything. I’m a little bit of anger,. I’m a little bit of desire,. I’m a little bit of brain,. I’m neither here, not there. I live everywhere, everyone belongs to me. Don’t pin me down. As a ‘type’ I don’t belong. To you and I understand. You don’t belong to me. I want you to take. Me as I am, I will. Take you as you are –. We will have a beautiful. Friendship – if we both. Text and Photo: Sanchita C 2014. Posted by Sanchita C. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). My work can be found here.
SOCIAL ENGAGEMENT