Unbounded Randomness

  It was a hot Sunday afternoon in Mumbai. I was somehow managing to keep myself from sticking to my T-shirt and then to the seat in my car. ‘Humidity’ was kind of an understatement for water that was magically appearing on my skin. The blow of air-condition did not dare to cool off the angry sun peeking through my windscreen. I started worrying about the tan that was going to show off on my skin. I was trying my best to enjoy this ‘relaxing’ sunbathing and hot sauna of my car. I stopped the car at a signal and started adjusting the AC when my eyes fell on the road divider next to me. My heart stopped. A little boy, same age as my son, was sitting on the divider. His body was frail and dark, shoulders sinking and eyes lost in the eternal traffic ahead of him. The hot blistering sun seemed to make absolutely no difference to him. My struggle to cool off in my AC car seemed extremely futile. I kept looking at him and then he suddenly looked back. His dark black eyes pi...

    Finally I gave up. I gave up the suffocating inertia, that was imprisoning me in my own mind and stepped out of the office in the freezing cold. It was my lunch time break. ‘I have only few minutes, I will take a quick walk and come back’, I promised myself.   The cold slowly engulfed me into its blanket.   Cold has a unique crisp freshness about it that alerts your mind to its full vigour.   In few steps, my body gave its first sign of protest by a quick shiver. I never knew that the tip of my nose was such an important part in my body. Not only I was prominently aware of its coldness but it started running in no time. I continued. I had to today. In few steps, I entered one of the densest woods near my office.   I was welcomed by the thorny bushes first and then a range of growing tall trees. It all seemed like a standstill portrait. Not a single leaf on any of them. Standing in perfect silence, unaware of the world of huma...

I hear voices all the time, even though I live in one of the quietest places on this planet. It is quiet not just because its winter time in United Kingdom where the already miniscule population of this country vanishes under their blankets but mostly because I live alone at this moment. My Dolby stereo surround sound system of my husband, my son and in-laws that I was used to back in India is missing and with it the whole of my life surrounding them is missing. The voices that I hear now, are either the heaters turning on and off, light tapping of rain on roof at night, the ghostly steps of someone going up my staircase and my phone notifications. That’s it. None of these sounds really constitute to the world I ever imagined myself in. And yet I continue to live here. I continue to survive. But recently, I have started listening to much more dangerous voices than ever before. They never seem to leave me alone. Not in the day and not in night. These are the voices in...

It had been ages since she had ever really caught the twinkling drops of rain on her head and cried in excitement! The cry was always of either frustration or boredom. She never really wondered up until now that it is the same rain that she used to be excited about throughout her childhood. Since when did it start becoming boring? It still is the same rain. Filled with wonder, randomness, playfulness and loads and loads of love. What changed then? Climate? Life? Stress? OR just her? She looked at the culprit in the mirror and saw an image of a girl aging into a mid-life, worn out with routines of everyday, surrendering to the demands of society, smiling only when required, putting blinders to her horizon. She looked dull, lifeless, without that spark which she always carried proudly. She then looked at the rain pouring down outside, exactly opposite to the diminished life force of this girl. It knew no bounds. It just went on and on without thinking what others thought of...

It had been months I hadn’t moved my lazy ass to get out of the house and go for a morning walk. I am usually dragged more into the reasons like ‘It’s too hot outside’, ‘It’s late’, ‘I got to cook’ or sometimes ‘Just don’t feel like’.   And this is despite the fact that mornings are cooler, pleasant, peaceful, greener and always available. The laziness is more in my mind than in my body. This morning though, I simply got up early, got dressed and stepped out of the house. There is a time when you do take control of your brain and I guess today was one of them. I was surprised at the speed in which I took the decision and was already on my way. That was the first of many reasons that morning, I smiled wider. As I stepped out, the first thing I noticed was how fresh the air felt. It smelled of leaves and damp mud from watering plants and soft warm sun playing with it. It smelled of ginger tea, newspaper, fresh vegetables and boiling hot milk. It also smelled of sweaty peopl...

I dream of walking in a forest, lonely, cold in search of something. I love the trees, love the rustle of the leaves but their ghastly shapes haunt me. They remind of me something. Something deep that dwells inside me. That is yearning to come out. Its hidden in the dark corners of my heart just the way the old bushes of the forest are. Mystical, undiscovered, unimaginable, deep and scary. Why do I then like these places? Why do they attract me? Why is my heart leading me to the caves than the open grasslands? Why do I prefer the dark thorny bushes than the beautiful trees full of green and fruity colours? The beauty of the caves remains undiscovered until you step inside that hollow. The thorns don’t hurt you neither do they amaze you until you scratch yourself against them. If they were not meant to cause any pain, they would not be existing. Am I hoping to discover the entry to a new world through these bushes? Like a black hole. Like a tunnel, it would somehow reveal th...

“Mumma, can you tell me a story?” my 4 year old son asked. It was one of those days when I had used up all my stocked up stories and now would have to create a new one from my tired brain. I grumbled for a while and reluctantly started off with ‘Once upon a time’. He then interrupted me by asking, “Is there a bad guy in this story?” I scratched my head and thought, I shouldn’t be telling him about bad people. So I said, “No dear, it is a story of a little girl”. “Mumma, there has to be a bad guy or else it won’t be a story” he said flatly. I was so bowled over by his comment that I forgot the story I was weaving for him. A bad guy was as important as the good guy for him? He seemed to love both the hero and the anti-hero equally.   And why should I blame him? Do we all not rejoice the deadly Villan in the movies and the heroic fights between the good and the bad? If there is no struggle, no sad moment, no evil or absolutely no negativity in one’s life, the stor...