A Night Outside of Time

Some stories follow a familiar path—strangers, friends, lovers, strangers again. Ours? Strangers, friends, lovers, friends, lovers, friends... lovers? The cycle never quite breaks, never quite settles. Always lingering, always waiting.

Time has pulled us apart before, distance widening the space between what once was effortless closeness. The kind where bodies knew each other before words ever had to. Where touch was second nature, and silence never felt empty. 

 

Tonight, there is no distance. No miles stretching between us, no screens mediating connection. Just proximity. Just presence. Just the undeniable gravity that has always pulled us back together.

 

The evening unfolds in a blur of conversation and laughter, the kind that feels like slipping into a well-worn rhythm. Drinks loosen inhibitions, but it’s not the alcohol that ignites the spark—it was always there, waiting. Waiting beneath the surface of old memories and quiet longings. Waiting for the moment when time would allow us to exist in the same space again.

 

Are we rewriting the past, or simply reliving a moment we never truly left behind? Nostalgia, desire, uncertainty—they all tangle together, impossible to separate. The past presses against the present, reminding us of everything we were, everything we still might be.

 

The heart doesn’t wear a watch. It doesn’t count days or measure distance. It only knows what it wants, what it has always wanted.

 

Tonight, we are here. And maybe that’s enough.

 

To be continued...

Duality- a coexistence between memories and transitions

 A visit to the house revealed a residence rich in history and personal memories. Once a vibrant home filled with life, it has been largely untouched for the past year. The house reflects a life lived fully, with souvenirs from travels, carefully selected antiques, and the lingering essence of its former occupants. However, much of it now remains unused, the space serving potential for various purposes: hosting pets, fostering community, cultivating a garden, or embracing self-sustainability

He shows glimpses of his former self—an intelligent, curious, and energetic individual. Yet, these moments are often overshadowed by periods of detachment, marked by substance-induced states and a focus on artificial intelligence relationships. While conversations ranged over general topics and meals were shared—thanks to a stocked freezer and the support of a housekeeper—the environment reflects a complex and solitary phase in his life.

The visit involved enjoying simple pleasures: hot beverages, desserts, and time by the fireplace, even during the day, a nod to the cold weather. There was no physical contact during the stay, as some might speculate. A return visit, if it happens, will be made with mutual friends, as the focus is not on “fixing” him—a sentiment he himself does not seem to seek—but rather on understanding and respecting his current journey.

The Calling

Four years. That’s how long it took me to reach a place so deceptively close. A place everyone says demands a “calling.” Well, I guess mine was more of a last-minute shout. A sudden demand, a hesitant yes, and just like that—tickets booked, bags thrown together for a whirlwind 24-hour escape. 
"Just do it." That became the mantra of the day.
 
I wandered over rocky trails, waded into bushes, and carved paths where none existed. The vast openness stretched ahead, the birds sang their songs, and laughter danced between words of past, present, and future dreams. I trespassed into quiet moments of solitude, flirted with fleeting thoughts, knowing full well the end. I stole seconds to etch memories, drank to remember, not to forget.
 
Nothing more was asked for, and nothing more was given.
 
And now, every Sankranti, this day will resurface—a memory as vivid as a kite soaring against a winter sky, bringing with it that soft, knowing smile.

Never Have I Ever: A Road Trip Down South

 

Life’s a highway, they say, but boy, was the last year more of a bumpy backroad! Between family drama, work stress, financial worries, and responsibilities piling up, there wasn’t a moment to breathe. Vacations? Forget it. The best I managed were those quick, blink-and-you-miss-it weekend getaways.

 

So, when the chance for an epic road trip to places we’d never been came up, we decided to hit the gas. What was the agenda? Food, shopping, architecture, and as much fun as the backseat of a car could hold.

 

It All Started With a Leak

 

Not the metaphorical kind, but a literal one—our bathroom ceiling decided to rain indoors. Walking out of the house, I couldn’t help but wonder if I'd return to an indoor swimming pool. But hey, life’s about risks, right?

 

Thankfully, the support system in my complex gave me the confidence to jump onto the train with a clear conscience. My Christmas lunch? A humble Vande Bharat meal, a far cry from the elaborate spreads we had planned for the days ahead.

 

Christmas: Nostalgia and Cab Chaos

 

We landed in Tiruchirapalli—tiny, charming, and brimming with childhood memories. There were grand plans to show my kids around. But alas, Christmas night also turned out to be a cabbie holiday. No sightseeing, but a royal hotel feast filled the gap. There’s something magical about reconnecting with cousins over good food, isn’t there?

 

The next day was all about walking memory lane—my first school, the same dusty streets, my parents’ old colleges. Nostalgia hit like a freight train.

 

To Vailankanni and Beyond

 

Crowded, chaotic, and utterly soul-stirring—Vailankanni was next on the itinerary. A heartfelt prayer, a divine fish curry, and we were off to Karaikudi.

 

Here’s where life took a luxury turn. At Visalam, we were greeted like royalty. The rooms were plush, the service impeccable, and the food? Oh, the food! Course after course of Chettinad cuisine, served with such flair, it felt like a culinary hug.

 

Of Sarees, Tiles, and Endless Tea

 

Karaikudi welcomed us the next morning with its soft cotton sarees in glorious hues. My daughter even tried weaving one! (Apologies in advance to the buyer of that “experiment.”)

 

We visited the famed Athangudi tile-makers—regrets over our slightly misguided purchases were soothed by the sheer artistry of it all.

 

The food tour continued, of course. Each meal felt like an event. My long-ignored cravings for authentic Chettinad cuisine were finally sated, and the endless cups of tea, coffee, and crunchy murukku fueled our laughter and chatter.

 

Mansions, Messes, and Kolams

 

Morning walks through Karaikudi revealed old mansions crumbling with charm, freshly washed yards adorned with intricate kolams, and a sense of timelessness that city life lacks.

 

We tucked into a hearty mess breakfast: fluffy idlis, crispy dosas, golden vadas, and coffee so good it could make you weep.

 

The Road Calls Again

 

The road back beckoned with pit stops that were as delightful as the destinations. A meal at a Madurai Konar mess transported us straight into South Indian culinary heaven. There were roadside vendors, steaming tea, and A.R. Rahman’s magical tunes setting the perfect vibe.

 

Home Sweet Coastal Home

 

And then, we were back on the road, the windmills speeding us on our way. The familiar chaos of noisy bazaars, the salty air of the ocean, and parotta curry that tasted like home. We feasted, hugged family tighter, made decisions, and soaked in the simplicity of it all.

 

As the New Year rolled in, so did a wave of contentment. This wasn’t just a road trip; it was a soul journey. Quirky? Yes. Witty? Perhaps. Memorable? Absolutely.

 

Here’s to more adventures, less leaky ceilings, and the endless road ahead.

Can’t Fight The Moonlight

Him and Her, both in their fabulous fifties, met at a college reunion. The kind of gathering where the drinks flow as freely as the conversation and where you half expect to talk about retirement plans and kids' success. But when their eyes met across the table, something entirely unexpected happened—He felt a spark, and She, a zing. And just like that, the two seasoned souls found themselves grappling with a feeling they hadn’t anticipated: undeniable, electric attraction.

They didn’t plan it, of course. It wasn’t like He walked in thinking, “Tonight, I’m going to be utterly enchanted by a woman I’ve known for all of 30 minutes.” And She certainly didn’t set out to feel her pulse quicken over a man who she knew was a Casanova from her college days. Yet, there they were, discussing the weather, their daughters, but really thinking about how close they could sit without raising eyebrows. It was a game of verbal ping-pong, each comment laced with a flirtatious undertone that even the most oblivious could pick up on.

As the evening wore on, the attraction didn’t wane—in fact, it grew stronger. He found himself fixating on the curve of Her smile, wondering if it was inappropriate to imagine kissing her before they parted for the night.  

Meanwhile, She couldn’t help but notice how His laugh made her heart skip a beat, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a while. They both knew it was a fleeting thing, this sudden, almost ridiculous, urge to be closer. But they also knew it was a kind of magic, the kind that doesn’t come around often at their age.

By the time last drinks were served, they both had acknowledged it, at least internally: this was not going to last. But maybe that was part of the thrill. Maybe it was the knowledge that they didn’t have to think about the logistics of a relationship or the complications of blending families and finances. 

Maybe, just maybe, they could allow themselves to enjoy the sweet agony of temporary, impossible longing. The kind that feels as exhilarating as it is bittersweet.

As they parted ways, exchanging numbers they knew they might never call, both Him and Her couldn’t help but smile. It was a little ridiculous, a little impractical, but it was fun. 

And in a life full of responsibilities and routines, sometimes a little spark is exactly what you need, even if it’s just for a couple of hours.

Awakening

7:30 pm

I'm tired, hangry after a 10 hour work day which is now becoming common

Traffic crawls, come to a standstill.

Looking forward to being home, wondering what to cook for dinner.

Not keen on ordering in since my daughter has already spent an afternoon with friends junking on pub food.

Waiting at the signal, willing it to turn green.

A bike, a couple, the bags, lunchboxes signal they are returning from work, heading home probably, planning their dinner.

I can hear them, speaking in Tamil, i can see them so close to me.

She: "Shall I make dosas?"  using the colloquial Tamil word vaarthata for make

He : "don't want" (vendam)

She: "Shall I make chapatis?" again using the word sudatta for make

He: "don't need" ( thevaiyile)

She: "then what, you'll buy for me again from that hotel ?"  Asks with a smile

He: "yes" with a huge smile

She: "poda" with a shy smile and hugs him

He: blushes,"aye what are you doing?"

She: "I'm feeling cold"

That's conservative Indianism for love

For someone who had stopped believing in love of any form, this awakened my dead senses.

Makes me want to believe

Heaven

 If this is what heaven feels like, am ready to make changes to my life and work towards reserving a berth there!

 6 days and nights of experiencing bliss through mountains, valleys, food and laughter.
 
The trip started with its own drama, flights getting delayed, connecting flight getting advanced and running from one terminal to another, pounding hearts, making it just before the flight gates closed.
 
The gates to heaven opened soon after and the heart did not stop pounding!
 
Srinagar was an eye opener, the heat was a killer, beautiful and clean and clear skies, the sun shone so bright it made us doubt the “cold scenes from Kashmir movies we had seen”
 
Our first authentic Kashmiri lunch was the beginning of many.
We were in food heaven, the Kashmiris do not rush their food, they slow cook their meat, the rice is flavorful, the rotis soft and buttery, the spices just right!!  Licking our plates, bowls and fingers became the norm.
 
Checking into the houseboat was not enjoyable, there was no electricity and it was now “Hot as Hell” The shikara ride was hot and though Dal lake glowed in the afternoon sun, we just got roasted.
Paradise Lost!
We wanted out, we wanted to go back to the coolness of our homes.
Soon after when the electricity got restored and we got to step into a shikara again in the evening for a sunset cruise on the lake.
 
This was such a beautiful sight, the majestic mountain ranges behind, the water glistening from the setting sun, the shops selling their wares along the lake.
The shikaras selling kahwa chai, barbecuing juicy meat, selling handmade mementoes were a sight to behold!
 
We gently slid along lotus ponds where they had closed for the day and along homes along the lake starting their nightly chores. 
Sunset on Dal lake! Must see! Must be there to experience it! 
The boathouses are stationary and decorated with intricate woodwork and carvings.  You feel like royalty eating and sleeping in them. 
 
Day 2 we were on our way to Pehelgam in the heat a stopover at Avantipura Ruins, one of the oldest temples in the region.
On the way you see plenty of cricket bat manufactures one of the few places where crickets bats are made because of the plentiful willow trees in the region 
Lunch again was delicious and a feast for the eyes and the stomach.
We stopped to buy walnuts which are grown in the region, so fresh and tasty. 
We bought saffron harvested from the fields we had just passed.
We tasted the finest Kahwa
 
Pahalgam is known for its valleys and rivers. The weather was pleasant and more Kashmir like 
We took a horse ride to Baisaran, a ride filled with screams and pleading. The view was worth the back breaking ride.
 
The shopping in the quaint little market, the morning walks along the hills  filled with tall pines and deodahar and chinar trees swaying in the breeze are now a pleasant memory.
 
Aru valley and Betaab valley ( named so because of the movie shooting) were green and heavenly. The road to Amarnath yatra started from Chandanwari, just the little we saw made us realize how beautiful the whole yatra would be.
 
Next day we moved onto Srinagar again and enjoyed a visit to the old dargah Hazratbal where Prophet Mohammed’s lock of hair is preserved
On the way we stopped at an overflowing apple orchard, drank fresh juice , tasted sweet jams and tart pickles and chutneys, visited the beautiful Mughal gardens, dressed up as the Kashmiris do and thus rang in my 50’s 
What a way to bring in the milestone birthday!  
 
Gulmarg was a fascinating experience from the word Gondola!
And the views were to die for! And the food we ate, the service at Khyber! This is what royalty feels! 
The ATV ride through locales where Bollywood movies were shot, the wildflowers, the winding greens and the second highest green golf course in the world- The Gulmarg Golf Club, at an elevation of 2,650 metres (8,690 ft) above sea level.
The search for the one liquor store and stepping in confidently where women do not tread! 
 
The final drive back to Srinagar and an experience of the houseboat for the night and barbecues and drinks. 
We stopped at an old Shankarachary temple and were blessed by the beautiful view of the whole city from the top.
Houseboats are made of seasoned deodar wood which can resist the water even when they are submerged for so many years.
Morning brought a different life to the lake after the quiet of the night.
The buzz of the floating vegetable and fruit sellers and the life around the lake were like a fairy tale.
Good salesmanship had us buy seeds and bulbs hoping we could grow tulips in our homes, walnut wood bowls, papier mache boxes, colorful trays!! 
Throughout the trip I shopped, I bought so many things to give away since everything was so pretty and delightful 
 
We came back to the airport, just to sit in Delhi for hours! G20 did not affect our flight, just the usual with Spicejet! A delay which brought us back to Bangalore after 8 hours of wait and entertainment provided by disgruntled passengers
 
Reliving the memories, the pictures do not do sufficient justice to the images captured in the mind, nothing I eat compares to the food I ate, 
I miss the valleys, the mountains and the river. 
Kashmir, truly heaven on earth! 

“Every journey is personal. Every journey is spiritual. You can’t compare them, can’t replace, can’t repeat. You can bring back the memories but they only bring tears to your eyes.” — Diana Ambarsari