The Lovers

The sun is yet to rise on the horizon; most of the city is still asleep. Sherin stands by the balcony enjoying her early morning coffee. She takes a sip and relishes the moment as birds chirp in the background, when she notices some rumbling by the balcony. She spots a couple making out in the enclosure by the parking area; the solitude safe enough to steal some moments of privacy. Sherin - though a bit embarrassed - couldn’t help but sneak a peek. The couple was more than just making out – they seem to be very passionate about each other, their romantic act seemingly more than just lust. True to the appellation, they veritably are the symbol of love. After moments of unbridled passion, they coo away flying into the canvas of the rising sun.

Chaos is Beautiful

For once, I chose to follow Robert Frost - I took the road not taken - well, the road I hadn’t taken before. It turned out I was not the only one. The street was swarmed - never before had I seen such a motley of a crowd plying on the narrowest of streets I’ve ever been - pedestrians, bikes, rickshaws, taxis, trolleys - all crawling about on all directions. Ruing my decision, I resolved to stick it out. Inching slowly, I’d to be at my lapidary best to avoid a nasty dent or a scratched up side on my moto. The intensity of the ordeal got to my nerves and I almost hooted at a teen trying to hop across squeezing into the space in front - but my coy nature reined me and let myself seethe within. That’s when I noticed something - a  behavior not seen even on the better avenues of the city - there was no honking; and there were no tempers flying. These humble commuters on the sidelined by-lanes of the city’ periphery have made peace with their predicament. They smile at the crossing commuter, pass a light-veined comment on the odd pedestrian attempting a Jesse Owens across the street, and move along. There was harmony amidst all the chaos. When, we appreciate the limitations of the circumstances, and accept it with all our heart, we realize that chaos is sweeter than the dreariness of monotony - Chaos is Beautiful.