Random Thoughts

And here she was, staring at her reflection of her once regal self. If she thought her life would be here, five years ago, she would have ridiculed the thought. Now that the gambit has been thrown, she could not help but feel as a failure, of being useless. Life, while never being perfectly synchronized to the tunes of one’s desires, sure as hell cannot throw a curve ball so far off the tangent, that she not only missed it, but also was completely bowled over in a way that had her hurting in ways that could not be put in words. Love, the bane of very existence, the boon of very existence, in its twisted form, raised its mocking head, to snap her backbone in the most painless way possible. The drug did not just take her spine out, it took her will. It deformed her, slowly. And now, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw nothing - not even a reflection of her self, not a shadow of her soul and certainly not even a reflection of solidity in front of it. For all she could see...

There are a lot of things going on in my head right now. All this resentment at being chained is growing in me, to the extent where it threatens to consume me. When things are fine, all these feelings are in a back burner, but at the slightest ripple, all these feelings surface, as a bubbling tornado and every time its as though they never went away. I can feel the blood rumbling, I can feel my eyes threatening to overflow, I can feel the anger in me ready to engulf everything around me. Yet, yet, I need to hold everything in. Life has to be simple, yet we complicate it, with people we surround ourselves with. I mean, even if we live on an island, we cannot really escape people, can we? Family, friends, relations, strangers - all are people, ready to pounce on us, rub their emotions on us and basically just willing to complicate our life. We cannot shut them out, nor can we let them in. Ask, talk, feel, shout, scream, wallow, cry - how many emotions and for what? Who gives a f**k about...

.... I want to scream at the top of my lungs, just scream until my voice goes hoarse. I want to keep running until every breath I take feels like the last one. I feel like a rebel. I want to challenge my own convictions of life, my own principles. What good are they, when they do not help me navigate through my life, in some semblance of peace? What good are they, if I feel lost in the chasm of misery? While the logical part of my brain, quite literally tells me to shut up and move on, the illogical heart keeps weeping at a loss that I could not control. While part of me consoles, part of me wants to rip my heart and stomp on it for not fathoming the unfathomable. And I think that part finally succeeded! I stare at what feels like a million pieces of my heart on the floor. I could quite literally hear it shatter. I stumble for words, I scramble for words, yet, nothing can explain what is going on in my head, when processing what is in front of me. I try to focus, move from one point to...

These thoughts, I ask of them to just let me be. They push and probe, they pull and hold. I try to ponder on these incessant thoughts running through my mind. When I prod them long enough, I am caught staring at myself, in a room full of mirrors that show me a myriad of my reflections. Where am I? I try to find the real me, the reflection that should be me. But alas, I realize, I am seeing the different me, that each thought of mine portrays. Which thought is true? Which is false? In the search for my reflection, I study each of them, to help me understand - the cause behind them. Some thoughts, I say, are difficult to fathom. They rage maddeningly, whirling through a sandstorm, spiraling me out of control and when realization hits, that I am caught in a spiral, I force myself to calm down, to be still. In this constant struggle to be me and to be some version of me, I see myself losing the plot, becoming a chameleon that I don't want to be. I am still searching, still probing. Ho...

Aye! I did! I surely did! Metaphorically, at least! It took me a while to process it, embrace it and perhaps form an explanation about it. Wimbledon 2016 semi-finals between mortal and God seemed to have shocked the expectations of every one, particularly since the said mortal was ordinary in the finals. So, having seen God losing the plot when he served a double fault, yeah! I have to say, I saw the unpredictable, unforeseen, unimaginable event in the history of said God and that is such a rare and freak occurrence, that it compelled me to say that I have seen a black swan! I thought Roger Federer will cruise to the title. But that did not happen. He is quickly losing his God Persona, but tennis has become more fun now. Watching him play and toy and raise the bar beyond the opponents comprehension when needed, made him the God of Tennis. And now, these youngsters are envisioning his play and matching his greatness with grit, yet he still seemed to have something up his sleeve, u...

March 19, 2016. There are moments in life where logic has no meaning. And one such moments is death, the absolute certainty of it and the finality of it. Gran ma passed away on March 19, 2016. And when I heard the news, the despair was all consuming. At that point, it was not about coping or standing strong, it was about mourning the loss of a person who had a significant impact on my life.  Right at this moment, twelve days after her demise, I am not really sure if I processed the pain. I feel a bit numb, with my brain functioning on and off. I keep going back to seeing her in the ice box, the look of peace on her face, one I had not seen, even in her sleep in as long as I remember. Death has finally given her peace, that which eluded her for quite sometime. While she rests in peace, her loved ones are dangling between relief and sorrow. One moment, it is a relief that her suffering is done and the other moment, is about questioning the sanity of that thought. The first coup...

Novak Djokovic, the defending champion beats Roger Federer 7-6, 6-7, 6-4, 6-3, and slams his dream of eighth Wimbledon title to grass (pun intended). What a match it was? Watching Novak play was absolutely thrilling. And watching Federer, it looked like even God tends to bow to mortals once in a while. But, seriously, how good was Novak? Roger Federer, in this Wimbledon has not been his usual self. His backhands have found the nets more often than not, his aces were not as recurrent as they once were and though he volleyed quite a lot, his lazy elegance was not as eloquent as it once had been. Yet, he still conquered the court and stole people’s heart. His semifinals win against Andy Murray was vintage Federer. If people had their say on the Centre Court, for the final, the match would have gone well into the fifth set with Federer claiming his eighth Wimbledon title. But alas, Novak Djokovic ruled the court! He played aggressively, not budging an inch and his base line play was fe...

I am not in the right frame of mind, at this very moment. My body is weak, my defenses are low, physically, I am exhausted and mentally, I don't seem to have the strength to wake up the next day. When I sleep, I wonder if I can wake up tomorrow and more importantly, if I want to wake up tomorrow. When I wake up, I wonder how I intend to get through the day and when the night befalls, I am thankful for the days closure. It is easy to give up, to close my eyes to the world and let myself wallow. And because it is easy, I need to fight, to push. I am trying, but for one moment, just one moment, I want to succumb, to weep, to mourn. Yet, I cannot seem to find that solace that grants me that freedom of expression. A good cry may help, but that is not my way. I cannot seem to find tears for pain that cuts too deep. I cry for silly things, I cry when I am angry, but when my heart feels like it is about to rip itself out, how can few tears assuage its feeling? Tears cannot make me forget, ...

I was looking through some old snaps, old pals, old places, places I have been to, old memories. I make myself sound old, I feel it in my bones too, that I am just a step away from being a battered old ram! But these old memories did bring in a sense of accomplishment and joy. They brought a sense of satisfaction and experience. They also brought a heavy heart. I was looking through the albums, living through the memory each snap unfolded, the moment captured in its rapture. Some made me sad, some made me smile, some made me laugh and some filled me with satisfaction. Overall, it was a good positive vibe. Yet, this question of where I belong, popped into my head, making me pause mid way through, making me go beyond the superficial. Do I belong here, among the lifeless stuffed toys that I hugged for the picture? Do I belong here, the composed smile that did not reach my eyes? Do I belong here, the careless swing in my body, standing on my tip toes, in the middle of no where? I always fe...

"Something was comforting about strangers—it seemed like they would exist forever as the same, unknowable mass." ― Megan Boyle He sat on a park bench with War and Peace and is engrossed in it. When it was getting dark, he closed the book and became aware of the world around him. At sixty, having read the book a million times now, he should have been less engrossed with it. And yet, he just could not. While still thinking about the book, he looked around, noticing for the first time that someone else sat alongside him, on the farther corner of the bench. He noticed that she was just sitting quietly, looking about the park, when she suddenly turned her head and offered a polite smile. She held his gaze for a minute, when he returned her smile, before nodding a good bye and going her way. It was a Thursday evening. She made her way back to her home. Later that night, she settled on her bed, with a book in her hand. She suddenly remembered the stranger reading a book and was surp...

Sport is about passion. And when its cricket and involves Indian fans, it is passion laced with madness. Our cricketers are our heroes. Thanks to the unbelievable turn around by Kapil Devils, way back, cricket continued to woo and inspire a lot of Indians. And when the world cup is won on the home turf with the command performance in 2011, as though it belonged to India, #Wewontgiveitback was expected to be coined for 2015. Realistically, though, when the likes of Sourav, Sachin, Rahul could not get it for India, the likes of Kohli, Raina, MSD would have to perform a miracle to get it. And miracle happened once, in 2011. Was it foolishness to expect it again? But, that is the way of the fan. We live with our cricketers ups and downs, with their tantrums of form and no-form. And they live with our admiration and despondence. The cycle goes on and on, the same fan who is throwing tantrums now, will hail their names when the next series begins. Well, at least most of them. And then, there...

Was looking for some inspiration to write anything other than book reviews. Found this interesting writing challenge on Daily Post and gave it a try... ------------- Water exists in many forms - ice, water and steam. It changes its form based on its surroundings and factors that influence its core. What suits me best, would be water, in that, most of the time, I flow along, whatever the setting may be. As a kid with working parents and in a joint family, it was necessary for me to be able to hold my tears, anger, frustration. Many a time, despite the feeling of anger or grief, it was imperative to be happy and play along. What used to work for me then, was to draw on a piece of paper, until I could get a handle on myself before being presentable to folks in the house or to run laps in a playground until I could no longer hold breath in my lungs, when I would just settle down and breathe; and with every breath, I would feel lighter. Part of the reason, to hold on to my emotions wa...

Cricket has been such an integral part of my life for over fifteen years now. I have watched and cheered my team, I shouted in frustration at the spineless cricket that we sometimes played, I cried with the pain of defeat, I soared on the wings of victory, but, always was with my team. So, diplomacy aside, I bleed blue and I want my team to win, each and every time, however stacked are the odds against us :). The first test match between India and Australia was highly emotional for any cricket lover because of the days leading upto this match. Philip Hughes was a stranger to me, yet not a stranger. He was a cricketer of promise and his abrupt death stunned the whole cricketing community. I was no exception to it. Watching the first hour of the match was exceptionally hard for me, especially that of Warner bat. And when Clarke walked in, I had tears in my eyes, understanding the magnanimity of the task ahead of him. But, as sport often does, it heals the wounds as you play along. It bal...

It is very important to remember how I feel today. The hurt that I feel right now, could swallow me, leaving me as a husk of a person that I am, that I aspire to be. Time and again, when I get into the comfort zone, falling back on being lethargic, there is this push from my conscience and the destiny seems to conspire with it to push me out of it. After all the hard work that I put in, it hurts to see that I cannot move forward from where I was. Every time I am caught up in work, I tend to forget that I work in a cut throat business, where 'I' am not important, what I do right now is not VERY important. My future value is diminishing every waking day , just as surely as I move to the closure of my life. I cannot afford to forget that, not for a waking second, if I want to be where I want to be. I am, but a microcosm in the bigger picture, one of the millions. Sure, I know my job, sure, I can do it with aplomb and so can a million others. Then, there are a million others who as...

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental. -------------------------------------------- She stood, transfixed, her stance defensive, her body weighed down by her sorrow of losing a dear one. Her heart refused to accept, her mind could not correlate her anguish. She fought for control of her emotions that threatened to drown her in misery. Performing on a stage is a daunting task, which requires courage and back bone. She could not feel her spine, let alone her courage. But she was compelled to do so today. She was walking across a street, one of the million streets she hunted, in search for peace over the course of years and found an open mic night in one of the pubs on that street. She had no idea when her feet started walking towards the door nor did she have a recollection of walking on to the stage. She was shocked when a mik...

And so.. I had an experience in Taj Falaknuma last evening for my fourth wedding anniversary. (Shocking?! To me too!!  :) ) It was a memorable experience, personally, because my hubby spent time and effort to make time for “us”, remembering my off handed mention of Taj Falaknuma after the raving reviews. We both are mostly “go and get it done” people, at least when it comes to experiences at least one of us enjoys. So, it was surprising that we waited for an occasion, perhaps, we both hoped to make our anniversary memorable subconsciously, thanks to the influence of web about the grandeur of the palace. Adorned in a saree, surrounded by peaceful never ending land, walking hand in hand with my guy, made me feel the richness from within me. That moment of peace, that moment of shared intimacy among strangers, that moment of love that engulfed me, watching him awestruck at the brilliance of the then Nawab was worth the experience that dented his wallet. Watching him gasp and stare m...

Sachin retired, leaving an entire nation speechless with his emotional speech. While I watched the match on Saturday morning, I was having mixed feelings, but mostly there was a sense of helplessness. I am not a huge fan of Sachin. By the time I started watching cricket, Sachin was already a “little genius” and when cricket started to feel a bit more than just a sport for me, I have had my own heroes I grew to admire. I started watching cricket from the 1996 World Cup match between India and Pakistan in Bangalore. I got to admit, I had little idea what cricket was at that  point, just that the entire nation was praying that we win the match and the world cup. I can still remember the packed living room with all my cousins screaming and cheering, while I sat amidst all the chaos wondering what in the world was going on. And I sat there, amidst the cheers, to watch Ajay Jadeja whip Waqar Younis and suddenly the entire street erupted with joy. I could feel the adrenaline in the room ...

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental. ------------------------------------------------------------- Meg was staring deep into the night that grew darker by the minute. The dark seems to grow onto her, pushing her into the deeper realms of a restless night and a dreading slumber of thoughts. The numbness of her decision finally sunk in and the reality caught her off guard. “You need to take this decision eventually, what difference would it make, if it is now or a year from now?”, her conscience probed. She delved deeper into her thoughts, figuring out the paths to tread, yet, every path seems to be filled with thorns. She feared none of those, just her heart, which seems to dread the doom she is willing to walk into. With a restless mind and a strangled voice inside her, she sunk deeper under the covers and closed her eye...

This is a continuation of the fiction under the label: Meghana "Abhinav Varma is his name.” She repeated that a thousand times, to fix it in her memory, lest someone should ask and she would embarrass God and company by being dumbfound or abashed at not knowing his name! She wondered if she could call him "Abhi", or probably not. Their families followed the customs of an eon-old, which went against calling husbands by their names. So, perhaps, she could not call him that. How sad would it be, to always address him, "dear" or "darling"? How can you convey that you are angry, when you are calling him, "dear"? She tried using her rude voice to match that sound and a ripple of laughter came out. She tried using her insolent tone with "dear" and she started giggling all of a sudden. She was packing her suitcase for her private time with him, which every one called, honey-moon. She was good at repressing shuddering memories and thi...