Not a travel poem by Sanjhee Gianchandani

At a time when wanderlust

Has taken over every one

There are the few who

Do not, can not, will not travel

Is it easy to pack up and leave?

We are those who collect

The bits of the broken photo frame

Piercing our own hands with blood

Till the wee hours of the night

Perhaps collecting the shards of

Memories that you left behind too

Some of us look at the travel photos

From our tired desks and seek

Solace just in looking at the sunset

From our very own window

We read travelogues and listen to tales

Of adventure, romantic escapades and

Brief encounters or sweet disasters

Only to weaving such stories along

In our heads which are bursting already

We imagine ourselves in faraway lands

Where we are not pulled in by

Restrictions or responsibility

We are the ones who keep it in

And never let it out, we’d rather

Keep it to ourselves than shout

The nagging pain hits us as well

But what do we have? Nothing

And no one whom we can tell. 

Sanjhee Gianchandani holds a Masters’ degree in English from Lady Shri Ram College for Women, University of Delhi and a CELTA from the University of Cambridge. She has previously worked as an English language assessment specialist and currently works as an ELT editor in the K-8 space. In a parallel universe, she would rather be living in the hills, sipping coffee, reading, and writing poetry.