Recently, I visited the Panna Meena ka Kund --a lesser known gem --a picturesque square shaped stepwell with a quaint aura which can precisely be claimed as an exclusive women’s space. It is situated quite close to the stupendous yellow structure of the majestic Amer Palace. I spent more time at this enticing stepwell, than people generally do, coz it was not just a tourist spot for me -I could feel a magnetic pull as I approached it. Despite the vertigo caused by the labyrinth of the small crisscross staircases, I couldn't stop myself from entering it. Climbing down the stairs, I could sense the vibes of all those hegemonized women… I did not just peep into the life they led, centuries ago; but became one of them for that one hour and even for the days that followed. I could fantasize myself living in the 16th century -dressed in a bandhani ghaghra-choli and coarse silver jewelry, hair held in a tight plait, conscious of my dusky complexion, smoky eyes laden with homemade smu
Looking out of the glass doors of the café, watching the unending line of cars, Prerna associated this noisy chaos with the booming train of thoughts in her mind. Putting in her best effort to sound composed and confident, but still fiddling with the car keys, she asked Naveen what had brought him to Chandigarh. Naveen had always been fond of drama, in behavior as well as speech. He had absolutely unnerved her by bringing his face close to hers; then, raising his eyebrows, assuming an air of importance, peering into her huge eyes, he just started to answer Prerna’s question, when his phone rang. He excused himself saying it was extremely urgent, and Prerna heaved a sigh of relief. While he was walking up and down the cafe, talking on the phone, Prerna sat in her chair, still and silent like a rock. She stared at the back of his head, getting awfully nostalgic, murmured… “My first love!” 
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