Harsh Snehanshu   (हर्ष स्नेहांशु)
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Joined 28 August 2016

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Joined 28 August 2016

On Fear of Strangers


24 SEP AT 20:45

The best kind of wait usually is one where you're sure the one you're waiting for will show up.


24 SEP AT 20:17

going to find homes in places and people,
going to find the home left behind
worth coming back to.


23 SEP AT 17:12

"I'm trapped inside your home. Open the door so I could spread outside."


23 SEP AT 17:10

breaking a matchstick.
One loses its fire,
Other burns too quickly.


22 SEP AT 22:10

Lifelong therapy for free.


21 SEP AT 23:35

September feels like
a lush green meadow
after a long trek
through the treacherous valley
that is the year.

You unpack the backpack,
take out the tent and set it up,
all ready to camp
and soak in the mountain sun.

The next few days,
it starts to rain and doesn't stop
for days and weeks
and you don't know
what to long for more?

the cold year ahead
or the dry year behind?


21 SEP AT 13:43


I get restless
when my crush hasn't watched
my Instagram story hours after I posted.
Is she okay? Is she there?
Generally, she watches within two minutes.
I visit her profile, check the following list,
sigh at finding myself there.
I look at my last chat, run through each line
with the severity of an examiner:
did I say something weird
that she muted me?

It feels exactly like school,
the anxiety of not seeing my crush
at the morning assembly,
nor finding her bag in the classroom,
not until the roll calls for attendance
and her name is announced,
only to hear silence. A sad silence.
The teacher records her absent
while I record her absence.


20 SEP AT 23:32

Ability to find time
to write a poem
makes life a poem.


20 SEP AT 1:31

She walked with an unbelievably straight back, her broad shoulders complementing her gait. She gratefully blamed her first boyfriend for the perfect posture. He would point out every time she slouched. And every time she wore short-skirts, sleeveless and make-up. She loved him. He was an English poet from Kerala. His words won her over. Turns out he wasn’t as liberal as his words. His sense of control extended beyond the English grammar and the meter, to her. One day, she left him. What seemed instantaneous was the culmination of months of I-love-him-but-I-can’t-live-with-him. The day she ended the relationship, she went and got a tattoo of her most favourite line of his on her straight back. It's uncanny to think that he'd never get to see his words etched on her skin. He could have if she wore backless in front of him. She won't, however. It is too revealing to strangers, his words would echo in her ears.


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