Unassumed Dwellings

She sat there near the bedside table, swaying on the wooden chair that made a creaking noise every time she moved. The room was dark, barring the night lamp which illuminated the old notebook on the table. As she scribbled through and painted its pages in her beautiful handwriting, he silently moved right behind her and slowly whispered her name in her ear. She had known that he was in the room much before he spoke. She always did, almost recognizing him from his heartbeats. He kissed her gently at the back of her neck. She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and smiled. And then the clock stopped ticking. There was nothing else going on in the universe. Just the two of them. Lost in each other.

As the first rays of the sun entered the room through the narrow slits between the curtain and rested on the bed, her silhouette, wrapped in the white sheet, lit up! I glided my hand over her body and unwrapped her face, which coyly hid below it. She resisted the advances, both mine and the sun's. There she was, the most beautiful woman in the world right next to me. If only every other morning in my life could be exactly the same.

As her beautiful hair danced along with the cool wind, surprisingly emanating from the old vintage ceiling fan, I could only help but wonder how I ended up here. How did the dots meet? Resting my head on her lap and lying down, she gazed straight into my eyes. Those gorgeous eyes had a smile of their own. Her lips were wearing a lovely smile too, the type only she could come up with. She was my world. "I love you" is the only thing I could muster, even though I wanted to say so much more. She laughed. And then we kissed.

She was right there in front of me. Every once in a while, she ran her fingers through her hair, which was otherwise playing along with the strong wind on the balcony. With every gust, she lost the battle. A few strands would escape the contours of her neck and wave with the winds. She responded with a smile. And looked beautiful. Sitting there on bean bags, listening to Pink Floyd and gazing at the fast-fading taillights of the cars on the highway, life was magical. The occasional honking by the vehicles seemed to be in perfect sync with the soulful music, and the glittering windows of apartments at a distance looked like shooting stars. Even the smoke from that shared cigarette seemed to dance in the air as it kissed her lips on the way out. No one talked. Not a word was spoken. But somehow this conversation was as deep as it could be. She gently closed her eyes and started humming the song echoing out of the speaker. As the music got more intense, she started waving her hand with t...

Reality is such a great leveler. There you are - infatuated and all. While your mind sways to tunes heard only by you, a real-world also exists outside your bubble. And you are made aware of its existence by the most insignificant of things. So you like a girl. You then find out that she is already dating. Of course. What did you think? And you are still going bonkers. You have no idea what's wrong with your mind! Let me break it down for you. Cricket offers an almost perfect analogy (like it does for every other thing in our country). Not so long ago, when the great Sachin Tendulkar had not retired, time and again there were instances when India was almost out of the game but he was still not out. We might have needed 200 runs and have only 2 wickets left, and Tendulkar might have been batting with Venkatesh Prasad for that matter. But everyone still had hope. That hope defied logic. Till the time he was on the crease, everyone believed magic could happen. Most of the times it di...

The pleasure you experience on a warm sunny winter morning, the first day of your vacation, is directly proportional to the magnitude of slogging you did prior to the vacation. As I looked up, soaking up the sunlight and the mildly cool wind on the Boxing Day morning on my terrace, life seemed wonderful. A cup of tea made by mom, a copy of Times of India – Lucknow edition, and some similar scenes at my neighbors’ houses acted as just the perfect recipe to revive lots of childhood nostalgia. I realized, at that moment, how special the terrace of my home is. Winters spent on this terrace engulf more childhood memories than the rest of my house combined. My first memory of this place dates back to Kindergarten. The school was nearby, and mom, accompanied by my younger brother on his prized tricycle, would pick me up in the afternoon. As soon as I reached home, I rushed for the terrace. We would lie down on a mattress, and soon my mom brought sliced guavas sprayed with pepper. They have n...