A correspondent writes: It was George Bernard Shaw who wrote ‘I dislike feeling at home when I am abroad.’ A collection of travelogues put together by Baranrekha, a little magazine has some pieces whose refrain GBS would have supported had he gone through them. At the same time, the rest would have met with stern disapproval which would have been spiced up by Shavian pieces of wit and wisdom. But if one walks away from this imaginary scenario, he/she will find this 219-page a delightful potpourri in which some of the protagonists clad in lungi and vest have walked around their homes and when they ventured out never went further than some of the city libraries. A member of this tribe was fascinated by the sight of foxes getting on each other&’s backs to reach a jackfruit hanging temptingly. A beautiful chiaroscuro emerges when a traveller armed with a passport on a trip to Barisal is asked by a local man why the tourist and his kith and kin go away when both have been creations of god. As the conversation progresses, the traveller comes to know that the have-nots who thought Partition would mark their escape from wants found the bloody upheaval which turned neighbours into enemies left its promises of economic upliftment unfulfilled. Small wonder, the local man questions the rationale why his neighbours had to depart overnight. If the swinging ‘60s were followed by the groovy ‘70s, the situation did not answer to this description in this state. After having responded to the “Spring Thunder “, many of the youth fled the cities in the clothes they stood up in. Looking for safety, they became unwitting travellers while becoming refugees in their own country. Some of them were killed and others found a place of their own in the villages, hills, jungles and even places of worship in the neighbouring states. The fugitives have penned their chronicles. Hunger and want making people go on journeys fraught with danger have found place in this paperback. A teacher in Andaman was numbed by the sight of a hungry old woman digging up crocodile&’s eggs from the sand and being attacked by the reptile. Going through this paperback, one goes on a long journey during which he/she has seen more than can be remembered, and remembered more than what was seen.