Posted in Journal

To 2021, With Love

I did a post back in 2016 summing up everything that went right that year. It was supposed to be an yearly event. But of course, like all my personal projects, none of the other posts saw the light of day. The 2020 one came close to fruition, but it kept getting postponed and then putting out an year end post in mid-January didn’t make sense. In any case, here we are now.


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Posted in Journal

Birth Of A Tiger Wife

I want to become a formidable woman.

The thought strikes me as Mr Beloved’s phone rings for the second time with the same unknown number flashing across the screen. He’s asleep in another room, heavily dosed with four different drugs thanks to a fever spike that set in prior to ward rounds today evening. Miraculously, he managed to get out of doing the rounds and sleep in the residents’ room before I went to get him. I’m guessing Christmas-New Year break must mean lesser patient load and admissions in general. I was able to go pick him up around 8, but as luck could have it, the heavens decided out of the blue that we had had enough of our dry winter spell and drenched me in due process while I was on my way, and he ended up taking a rickshaw after all.

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Posted in Musings

Procrastination

Calm.

As it settles comfortably around my chest, I feel a mix of relief and fear. This is all too familiar – taking a break and lying in bed, letting the mails crowd my inbox without breaking into my head. I know I’m going to regret this morning spent purely on printed words and dialogues speeding at 1.25x. I know I’d ask myself in another two days as deadlines overwhelm me why I spent an entire hour listening to the little yellow clock ticking away next to me as I contemplated how to fill the rest of my day. Why, I’d certainly be exasperated by even just the end of the day when I realise I’ve forgotten to send 2 out of 4 emails as promised to a colleague and watch the sky darken with her foul mood and indifferent texts.

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Posted in Fiction

The One That Got Away

Their conversations often bordered on the realm of surreal dreams, tentatively dipping into the exhilaration of uncertainty with bated breath. The short sentences were thrown back and forth with agility – stinging, soothing, keeping one alive. She often felt like this was where it was all supposed to begin and end and begin again, like the point where the curves of infinity met in this two-dimensional world of words. And in the real world, that point became an endless pole, the axis of her existence.

“I do not really want you to be happy, you know”, she murmured.

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