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The New Blogger

Hello Readers!

After many years of procrastination, I have finally decided to write my blog. Albeit I have been using WordPress for a long time, I somehow did not have the courage to publish my word. The first blog goes for an introduction.

I am Shreya Goswami, an Indian as well as a global citizen. I am an advocate by profession; a spiritual seeker and a poet by hobby. My work may contain all three, i.e., poetry, spiritual guidance/ discourse and of course write ups related to both Indian and International Laws.  I hope the blogs interest you and inspire you to live life the best.

With All My Heart




One of the biggest blessings to take birth on the spiritual and pious land of India is that right from your birth, you are associated with one or the other Gods and religion. Having a religion on your birth certificate has been criticized by many in recent years. Many arguments have been placed like religion divides the world, specially our country which is as diversified as possible, it is the vote bank of politicians, etc. I, however, would like to draw my readers’ attention to the sunny side of having a religion.

Where the world is moving towards yoga and meditation at a very fast pace in twenty-first century, India and Indians have been related with the same since ages. The idea of liberation, spirituality and the realization of the Self, is not new to us. I believe that every soul has its time and journey to reach the purpose it is born for. Where being introduced to spirituality is rare in the West, it is very common in the Indian subcontinent. Globalization however has played an extremely important role in carrying spirituality from India to the rest of the World.

I am more honored than proud to be introduced to my Guru at a very tender age. The Hindi word Guru is made up of two words, “gu” meaning darkness and “ru” meaning light. Hence, Guru is the person who leads us from darkness to light; who removes the ignorance from the little mind of ours. This is a small poem that I wrote for my spiritual Guru, H.H. Sri Sri Ravi Shankar back in 2009, when I was just fourteen years old! There are people who are lost for ages and prefer taking the name of God in the last days of their life. But I am just lucky to have come on the path in my early life. This blog is also an urge to people across the world that grab to spirituality as soon as you can. It is the only path which makes our mind peaceful and happy.

Here it goes…


He came in my life like a flower

A flower that never sheds its petals 

He came in my life like a cloud

A cloud that keeps on showering its rain

He came in my life like spring

Spring which ne’er turned in autumn

He came in my life like a river

A river which ne’er stopped flowing

He came in my life like tears

Tears which were the sweetest one I have ever tasted

He came in my life like breath

Breath which didn’t stop even for a nanosecond

He came in my life like a smile

Smile which never faded

He came in life like a ‘Guru’

A ‘Guru’ who taught me the

Art Of Living©

With All My Heart


P.S: To read more about Sri Sri Ravi Shankar visit


Each Time I Thought It’s Over.

I thought I was dying…
When my life ended as a bud, I thought it’s the end.. Instead, I was a new born flower..
When stroms were strong n I was all alone.. I thought I’m dying, instead I grew stronger…
When a kid desired n threw a stone at me, it hurt so much that I thought it’s the end.. Instead I recovered..
When it rained so hard and no leaves on my head, I thought it was the last rain I’m seeing.. Instead I had a new petal..
I’ve seen so much n known so much.. Seen flowers perishing once they fall off the tree..
When I grew old the tree had to let go of me, I thought this is it, I am Dead..
Instead was picked up again…
Instead was part of a love story..
Instead was smelled and cherished..
Instead was preserved in a book…

With All My Heart

#lifeofasoul #thereisnoend #wearenotborn #wewontdie #flower #winterafternoon #instantpoetry #alwaysrecover #growstronger #knowyourjourney


Hello Readers!

I hope each one of you is doing well in life. This post is to share a poetry I wrote back in 2011 for my Aunt, who is unfortunately no longer with me. She was the iron woman of my life, loved me, cherished me to the zenith and who could give her life to me. She didn’t have a child of her own; I was the apple of her eye. The following poem is an ode to that loving soul…


You Are Still There…

Each day I wake up with a new hope,

Each day I smile, saying that I’ll make it up.

Each day I have a new belief

That I have the power to remove each grief.

Each day my heart beats newly,

Saying, “Hey! Look, life is so lovely!”

Each day I open my eyes and see you smiling,

Telling me it’s not wrong to feel so loving.

Each day I see that love in your eyes

And I know that earth can sure be paradise!

Each day I hear you speak to me,

Showing me the way to every glee..

Each day I miss your touch on my head,

But somehow feel it in the rain drops shed..

Each day it feels bad to know that you’re gone,

But your Photograph says, “Go out!

Look, I’m in the sun shone…”©

With All My Heart


Doubt and Faith

Doubt arises only on what is positive. Good exists that is why we don’t if He really does. Say if He didn’t exist at all, what would you have doubted on? What would your ground of doubt be?
Don’t, in itself means that we already believe, we already have faith! Well, don’t us basically nothing but second-thoughts about it faith. When we don’t let the Big Mind (I.e. our consciousness) work, and let the Small Mind take over, don’t arises. It leads to nothing, but am in surety about your own being. Faith on the other hand secures you, protects you, and gives you power, immense power!
Have faith!

Home Sweet Home

Wherever you go, there’s no place like home…
The mother’s lap, father’s hug, grandma’s care..
Wherever you go, there’s no place where the smell of your mom’s dish will pull you…
Wherever you go, there’s no place where you can lay on the couch for hours..
Wherever you go, there’s no place you can feel like the princess!
The purple room, the windchymes’ melody, the feeling of home..
Wherever you go, there’ll be no place where Dad brings you the favorite food e’evening..
Wherever you go, there’ll be no place where you’ll be given e’thing in hand..
Wherever you go, there’ll be no place where you hear how your grandma got educated..
The best dishes that your aunt cooks, so many times when your uncle calls, and the grief you feel when you leave home..
Wherever you go, there’s just no place like home…


Freedom. Courage. Strength.

We all have been listening about domestic violence in India a lot. Even I have been listening about it, reading about it, but never really knew that it may be practiced within my family as well. This is a story from the eyes of a woman, who is a prey of one of the dreadful crimes against women. 


“I love you, baby!”, He said around half an hour later. I was so scared that my fear forced me to smile on his remark. I got up and got back to work. I was a home maker, but for a woman like me, the better word would be house-maid who was regularly being exploited, slanged and beat by my husband. It was a love marriage. I loved him. I still love him, maybe! 

Love marriages, and specially inter-caste marriages are a very big issue in India. The trend over here is that you parents select the guy you should marry, that too within your community, and parents generally look for a guy with a very good family. My husband did not have a family. He was totally separated by his family and relatives, and so he was not answerable to anyone, not responsible to anyone. Today it has been six years of marriage, and for the world, we are a happily married couple. When I met him for the first time, I was totally attracted towards his charm and grace. He was a gentleman, who very well knew how to treat a woman! I had never been treated like the way he treated me, in such a lovely, charming and sophisticated manner. I was a girl who had always been into studies, and family. Making a boyfriend was out of question for a girl like me. But this guy had something, something which could attract any girl. When I told my parents about him, it was a clear “No!” from them. They tried to scold me, explained me, requested me, and asked me not to marry that person, but at the end, as it comes to being parents, they agreed. 

For around two years, everything was fine, actually beautiful, but after that things started getting out of hand. I hold a degree of Ph.D in microbiology, but I refused all the job offers, because he did not want his “princess” to work. His idea was that he’s going to earn and I’m going to spend, but who knew that his real idea was something so dreadful. Now that I know him so well, I understand that he was s possessive that he did not want me to meet anyone. He wanted to confine me in a place and treat me like a slave, and the worst part being I let him treat me like one. He was drunk when he had beat me for the first time- 22 August 2011, and it was my birthday. His first step towards domestic violence was a slap. And my first step towards being a prey of the same was silence…

“I asked you not to get out of the house, didn’t I?” I started shivering when I heard his high pitch.

“I had to buy food for the baby.” My voice shivered.

 The next thing I realised was him dragging me by my hair and banging me to the table. My head started bleeding, my child started crying, and my so called husband, grabbed another bottle of vodka. I sat right there crying, and made my child sleep after some time. At mid-night he called me in the bedroom and asked me draw the curtains, and as I did, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the bed. He was partially drunk. At this point of time of my life, I was so scared that I thought before breathing on my husband’s face as well, I was so scared that I had to force myself to smile when he did, and I was so scared that I couldn’t meet his eyes when he looked at me. He opened the knot of my Salwar, and put his finger in. It was felt as if it was a mistake for me to take birth, it was a mistake to be born as a female. I attempted to say a “No.” but fear caught hold of me. And then I was raped, four times, by my own husband, my own love. Then say rape is the most dreadful crime against woman. I refute. Marital rape is the most heinous crime against woman, and the Indian Legal System, doesn’t even look at it as a crime. Getting raped by your own man, and waking up in the morning as if everything is normal and decent, cooking for him, taking care of his child, washing his clothes, everything has to be done as if, HE is you husband, when he’s just another animal from the wild.

If I speak it to my family members, they won’t understand. If I speak it to the friends, they’ll say your parents asked you not to marry him, and if I speak it to the society, they’ll look at me as if I’m a criminal. 

I want to speak, but to who will understand me? I want leave, to whom will I go? I want justice, but what proof do I have?