Random Thoughts

Standing there, in the middle of the room, surrounded by her photos, each picture a memory so powerful, that she had to force herself to look at another one, she looked positively stunned and overwhelmed. She stood there, in the middle of the room, trying to take a breath. As she labored through the breaths, she sat on the floor, her ears reverberating with chaotic words that shouted from all different directions. When she could not hold it in, she got up and ran out, not knowing where, just knowing she had to run out. She collapsed in the back yard, the cool breeze from the nearby fountain refreshing her sweaty face. She sat there, for a long time. “Can you feel my love?”, a voice startled her from behind. The husky voice, with an authoritative timber in the tone had her heart stopping for a second and then, pounding a mile a minute. “Does it consume you?”, the same voice taunted, with an amused tone. “You cannot escape my love, stop running from me. I will find you, even on the other...

Sridevi, remember her? With her squeaky voice, she charmed into the hearts of a few die hard movie fans, with her coffee brown eyes, she tormented them into sleepless nights, with her giggle, she warmed the hearts of a few, and with her beauty, she mesmerized a few, causing a lazy halo that cast a virtual curtain of beauty to see life. Yes, that lady, Sridevi, portrayed on the screen, a character that is so common that it relates to almost every woman in a relationship in one phase or the other, of her life. And mine was no exception. I have not been much of a fan of her, not in her prime and not now, but I have watched her movies and enjoyed the vision of her with my favorite heroes. This movie, did not have the star cast that once would have accompanied her. She is the protagonist of the movie, giving a compelling performance to an appealing script and touching my heart. She plays the role of Shashi, a homemaker, who also sells sweets for occasions. The simple saree clad bahu has a t...

Imagination is such a powerful thing. It fulfills abstractions. It shapes the soft mellows of memory into a distinct canvas, vibrant and lively. It transforms a monotonous day into a splendid one. It takes the insipid journey through days and makes it an adventure to thrive for. And sometimes, it hides in a shell, refuses to come out and bars itself in a cast iron cage, locking from the inside and sits in a dark corner, not talking, not seeing, not thinking, not whispering its musings. It does it like a pesky little kid who is used to getting his way. When the needed attention is lost, it pouts and throws tantrums. Sometimes, those tantrums are heard and sometimes, they are cast aside. Today, I seem to feel a little void inside me that is frustrating. I have these splendid dreams to shoot across the sky and shine like a star and somewhere along the way, the morbid sequential life took its toll on me. I try to look back on the days to find a semblance of imagination that took me wild ...

  I see my world as a small glass orb. It is filled with a world that I created, as I like it to be. My world. Every day, I walk out of my house, across the secluded path to the end of the road and step into the concrete island of offices. I work in one of those thousand office floors in that concrete island. When I walk out of the office again, I walk back the secluded path, leaving behind the concrete mass of buildings, into the quiet solitary of my house. The walk a soothing balm to the frenzy of the day. The large front lawn a solace and weekend comfort, in the deserted realm of existence. The sky above is perfect blue, not a single cloud. It turns into a myriad brilliant colors as the sun descends and the night sky, ah, the beauty of it! It is this magnificent magenta color, not black, not purple, but that beautiful shade of magenta. The stars in the night sky are a vision. They glitter like, well, stars, perfect shape and enigmatic sparkles. They sometimes com...

I wanted to see New York for a long time. So long a time, that it became an all consuming fever. And finally, I did see it. In all its glory and pompousness, the glitz and the glam, the dirt and the shabbiness, it is, as a place with history should be, with a mix of old and new. When I looked down on the city that called me through my dreams, I was overwhelmed with an emotion that was numbing. This is reality, the expanse of the sky scrapers, the intermittent blue patches of rivers was the aerial view. For a few seconds, all I could do was to look at that expanse and let my heart fill up with a desire so strong that it overruled all the passion I ever felt for anything in life. While the captain announced that we were approaching the runway, I assure you, my heart was beating a mile a minute with the anticipation of a dream come true. I like skyscrapers. I like cube structures. For me, more than the curves and the ridges, the sharp straight lines of definiteness meant ele...

Here is the thing. I am obsessed. With what? Perhaps I have to call it ‘love-ache’. There should be such a term, obviously and there should be a branch in the Medical Sciences to educate about this. There should be students queuing up to take this course. There should be hospitals that sponsor research aid for developing medications based on the stages of this love-ache. Yup, there are stages. Stage 1 : When an eye meets eye and there is this tingle in the belly. Stage 2: When the hand meets hand and the slow burn begins in the places until then unknown to human anatomy. Stage 3: When all seems great and the world looks pretty. Dude, you are on the verge of a precipice so steep, you have no idea IF you will ever land on your bum. Seriously! And for the record, the only way you will land is on your bum and that would be so hard that your breath shall take a short hiatus and you will be left choking and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Stage 4: When tears start and ques...