Crush Chronicles

  Medha is sleepless with a dull headache. At 3 in the night, the doorbell rings. Annoyed and restless, she decides to ignore it, but the ringing persists. She slowly pulls herself out of bed and standing at the front door, asks in an irked voice who it is at this hour and why. The answer of the stranger at the gate surprises her. It is the delivery boy, wanting to deliver her Nasturtium Climber Flower Plant Seeds, ordered this very evening. The masked guy has young smiling eyes which ease Medha’s irritation a bit, but she exclaims, “How come at this hour?” He breaks the absurd news that Amazon has gone 24x7 from this day on. An ardent plant lover, Medha is happy to receive the seed packet despite the discomfort caused. Still addled, she leaves the packet on the lounge table, and staggers back into bed. Next morning, when she gets up to a steaming cup of masala chai and HT, she asks Pushpa to pass the seed packet to her, to which she says that there is no such packet on the table. Put

A proud handsome man High-spirited, nimble -footed, Fearless, dynamic  - My Dad - Dad was an institution in himself! I didn't understand his fondness when he told me that my marks didn't matter to him coz my 'BEING' did. He wanted me to live life! My warm-hearted Dad ! I didn't comprehend his reasons for feeling helpless when something inflicted his kids. He took on himself not only our needs but wants too! My doting Dad ! I was upset when he refused to  slow down in his later years. He wanted to show me how to live beyond the quietus. My thoughtful Dad ! He made sure that I too be nimble -footed, and fearless! And live life like he did !

you insisted that i give a second chance to love, just to leave me grieving and waiting for 'another you' to arrive  and insist that i give yet another chance to love.

Scrolling the FB posts further, she was astonished to see that Vishwajeet had also posted a picture of her Reception- with the four of them in the frame- Poonam dressed in her royal blue ‘n gold party dress, Ashutosh in his midnight blue three piece suit, with Bindiya next to him in a pink fusion dress and Vishwajeet smiling, in Poonam’s  favorite coal black suit with his arm round her waist but not exactly touching her body, titled: “My Best Friend is a Bride!” Poonam was amused, rather a little worried too, thinking how Vishwajeet was going to handle Bindiya’s reaction to his caption. Though Bindiya was intelligent and beautiful and also worked for an NGO, she was a jealous and controlling wife. Perhaps, she suffered from a kind of complex because of Vishwajeet’s extrovert, amiable and vivacious nature; while she, on the contrary, was a self conscious woman, and lacked conversation skills.  Poonam could surmise that she unabashedly expressed  her suspicions whenever Vishwajeet  paid

Poonam felt the increasing chill in the night breeze. She had not yet unpacked her stuff except the small bag with essentials, required for initial comfort. She went inside again, least expecting to find some cover, but luckily found a serape on Ashutosh’s bedside table. She quietly took it, wrapped it around her body and stepped into the balcony again, convinced that this was going to be her favourite place in Ashutosh’s house. It was too early to call it her house or their house. Poonam didn’t feel anything for Ashutosh; nothing at all. It was neutral, as neutral as a co passenger on a flight. Poonam only knew that he was a Professor of English at the University, a learned man, and divorced for the last 16 years. He was of medium height, well built, had a handsome V-shaped face, most seductive eyes behind his expensive rimless glasses, a salt and pepper French beard and close cut hair. Technically they had known each other since childhood, as Ashutosh had been a batchmate of her brot