Timing

Right place, right time. It’s such a cliche. But is it? All of us never chose where to be born, whom to be born to, how to be born and most importantly at what time! My mother often narrates, how I was born on torrential rainy evening in July and getting to the hospital was a nightmare. Ah! The timing! […]

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Dil Chahta Hai:Love and Hope

This is still a special story. Four school friends. Three girls and a boy. Living across different continents over different periods of time. Most importantly at different stages in their lives. The only time the four of them have been together are the couple of carefree odd years they spent in Mumbai in their early twenties. Then? Well, adulting is a serious business.They all got caught up in their lives. Their priorities shifted.The phone calls became infrequent and the messages said they were having time of their lives. Ofcourse, there were moments of ” Tell me I will buy that next ticket and be right there”.You know what the other person at the end of the phone will say to that statement, right?They did have their share of holidays together. Amsterdam, Spain, Paris. But each time, there was a person or two missing from the plan. But in November 2018, I had a rare smile on my face as tepid waters washed my feet. The foursome were finally together.It was only a three day trip. What felt like years of waiting had finally come true.A Goa trip with friends.Isn’t that a coming of age thing for every Indian millenial child ever? So, what if it was a decade too late.It is still what these silly people kept alive in their hearts. Love and Hope.After all these years.

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Bread

Mixing, kneading has already been dusted.My weekend beauty sleep has been busted.That occasional clank of the pan withthe soft rattling rolling-pin.A warm doughy waft invites me in. The flour and oil, rolled into a ball so tender.A Phulka, a Paratha, a ghee laden Puran poli, I wonder.I enter nonchalantly and say,”What’s cooking?”Shrinking well below three feet when she says, ” […]

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Home

A bustling vibrant market with the aroma of coffee beansLounging around in unwashed tee and jeans A silent tear as the Bhairavi ends in an ovationWatching a melodramatic movie for the Nth time giving you the same sensation Completing my sentences whilst pressing their arms against mineUnspoken words between us staring silently at a glass of wine His half sunlit hazel eyes as they search for me in a crowded roomThe soft twinkling fairy lights in midst of winters gloom Her gentle fragnance comforting my nose as I hide my head on her lapTucking into familiar bedsheets for an afternoon nap Brushing my hair strands behind my ears as he holds my faceWhilst I quietly slip into his warm embrace This and somewhere in betweenI return to a place called home. 13 April 2018

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