An Ode to A Reunion

The road seemed straight and clear
Her own path seemed to lead away
Turning sharply to a side
Leaving others behind to go their way

For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

It was a simple affair, exactly as Rishi had desired. Only the closest family and friends in his favourite Krishna temple to witness his wedding to the lovely Sharmila were invited. His parents had arranged the match and he had met Sharmila informally in a cafe. He had communicated his willingness the same evening, but Sharmila's family had taken some time to respond, citing her professional commitments and travel as reasons for being unable to decide quickly. After the informal 'fixing' of the wedding too, her parents had preferred to conduct the wedding right away instead of delaying the actual event with a 'meaningless engagement'. "Can we have a simple wedding but a grand reception as we are going at breakneck speed," her father had asked politely, much to Rishi's mother's dissatisfaction. "We didn't ask for the wedding to be rushed! He is an only son, so we would like to call our relatives..." she had insisted.

Silence, the Strength

Waves upon waves
Constant, unceasing
Up they rise
Pulled down briefly
Only to garner strength
And rise up again

Wipe the Slate Clean

We decided we needed to make space in our house and optimise the use of existing shelves. It began with segregating clothes, into:
1. What we will definitely wear
2. What we wear every other day but should not because - yes, the cloth is soft and it was beautiful when we got it, but now it is beyond recognition and must absolutely be thrown
3. Grand, but sorry, too itchy, dazzling and not the kind we would wear ever though it looks brand new.

Master of Destiny

It was the March of 2050. He felt as good as new. "Medical technology is amazing," he told his friends. "You must try it. In fact, there is an app that tells you the condition of your organs, whom to contact, and even fixes an appointment with specific doctors who have the right equipment. They scan you, find you a match, grow new organs and replace old ones. That's it! That part is good to run for another fifty years!" he said.

Tides of Time

Does everything that begins

have to finally finish?

Every step forward

take you closer to the end?

Be it made of stone
Or mere skin and bone

Time to Go

"What more is there to live for, ma? It is time for me to go," 90-year-old Gagan told his daughter Shriya.

Shriya, herself 65, felt a stab in her heart. "Don't speak like this, papa!" She still turned to him with questions and his wisdom was a beacon light she couldn't do without.