Floral Glory



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A Satire on Arranged Marriages

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Before going through this article, please note that I am neither the family man kind of person, nor the greedy Uncle Scruz kind of man. I am fairly different, from exploring places to reading novels to watching contemporaries to spending time alone. I do what I like and mind it, it has got to do nothing with those “You surely disrespect your parents and elders” and “You don’t know about the real world, son” type stereotype statements. That’s why, please don’t flinch on reading this and start with usual monotones like”He is selfish” or “At present he is blinded”. I only thought this (blogging) as the best option to pour my shit out.
Indian weddings, mostly arranged marriages, are known for their grandeur and elaborate nature. Pre-wedding rituals begin days before the wedding date with Roka or formal commitment of both the families towards marriage. It is followed by Sagaai (engagement), Haldi, Mehndi, Sangeet and several such customs varying from families to families. Wait, did I leave o…
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Ride

Streets were his love. He loved to roam around, observe people, sit by the tea joints and listen to people ranting. He didn't meddle in anybody's affairs.

That day, he was walking on the street, when he suddenly saw a little girl and a boy - probably siblings - play around. They were talking about a recent story their grandma had told them. He tried to listen to their voices - young and full of grandeur.

"My dad likes to ride like a hero. No one can drive faster," the boy said. The girl continued, "When we go back home, we need to talk to our mom. She never replies back." "Idiot, mom lives in a photo, I don't know if she'd ever talk. We should tell her what granny said. Maybe then, she will talk back," the boy said.

He was listening to them intently. His attention was disturbed by a big crash. A trailer was parked just next to where the kids were playing on the road. A car was speeding down the road - the driver was probably off-balanced - he…
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Poem: In Thought and Soul

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Go far away, ye forsaken hours, Nor do I need thy cares, o world, Sun and season, set me free, I have frolic love in my midst, and that's enough for the whilst.
All over and around in my voyage, Have I countered a hundred maidens But ye, on knowing, I rest my feet. Charming to folks, bathed in moon, yet thou are robed with eternal grace.
Weaving tales, thine eyes enchant me And voice, fairer than countless fairies, My heart arrests at thy furtive glances. I speak true, that from thereafter, I have become ye, in thought and soul.
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