Random Thoughts

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...

This is a continuation of the fiction under the label: Meghana Continuation after this They walked out of the airport, away from the modest crowd and to the cab stand. He moved past several and stopped at one. The cabby acknowledged him with a warm smile and took the trolley from his hands and they exchanged pleasantries while she stood beside them. Abhinav held the door open for her. She pondered a moment about his gesture, before giving up on trying to understand it and slid into the car. He closed the door softly and walked around the car and slid beside her. They sat as strangers, distant and respectful of each other’s space. The cab moved out of the airport, onto the wide route that went uphill. They took a right at the fork and the road dwindled into a curvy path. The pastures, green and picturesque formed the boundary of the road, as the car moved at a steady pace. There was no music, just the quiet roll of the car on a bump free road. The cabby did not speed even on the e...

This is a continuation of the fiction under the label: Meghana Continuation after this Meg continued to look outside. The green pastures were interlaced with the cheery yellow squares and the distant mountains at the backdrop made the scene picturesque. The intermittent houses seem to spring up from nowhere, each looking like a fairy cottage, with bold shades that were very uncommon. She concentrated on the music, breaking the notes one at a time, forcing herself to listen to the chords of guitar at one moment or the beats of drums in the next moment, a sort of tiring exercise and a throb in her head, anything to not dwell on the next few days. Her thoughts swarmed her head, each emotion engulfing the brain waves, the sea of emotions threatening to be a cause of embarrassment. She refused to acknowledge that emotion, forcing her mind to think of something else. She started multiplying a random number with another random number. Soon the music became a back ground score and the min...

It is like a punch in the gut, when I realize, that I cannot voice out my thoughts with clarity or openness any more. When your openness is mocked, when your voice is mistrusted, why bother?! I chose to let my voice quiet down and let it be and now, it sits dully in a corner, choked of exuberance, choked of life. Now, it’s pathetic existence is a constant reminder of what a stupid choice that was. It is important to have a channel to get things out of your system. Be it a thought that is a word or a sentence or even a complex verse, at that very instant. It is important to get it out, if only to acknowledge to yourself, that thought. No one, no matter how good a listener they are, can respect that thought nor listen to it as well as you do. I sometimes think, I should perhaps consult a shrink, just to be able to voice out what is inside me. But then I ask myself, what makes you think you can trust them to listen? Trust, such an elusive mistress. Despite forced to trust, there is a cl...