The thought balcony

  Who Really Stays? We are born into families without choice, but friendships are chosen. And maybe that is exactly why friendships become such an important part of life. We need people around us who make life feel lighter, people we can lean on, laugh with, sit with without effort, and simply feel understood by. Sometimes they belong to our own age group, sometimes they don’t, but certain people naturally form a comfort around us, and having such friends around is genuinely a delight. But of late, I’ve been thinking more deeply about friendships and what actually makes them real. Of course, talking, chatting, having fun, spending time together, all these things matter. But over a period of time, friendships survive more on longevity, honesty, commitment, and whether people genuinely stay by each other’s side, not just when things are convenient for them. True friendship, to me, is also about mental wavelength. Sharing thoughts openly. Agreeing sometimes, disagreeing honestly a...

The Gray Areas of Love: Stories We Can’t Fully Judge We were having one of those conversations the other day. The kind that begins casually and then, without warning, becomes uncomfortably honest. It started with infidelity. But like most real conversations, it didn’t stay there for long. Someone brought up the present generation and how physical intimacy today often feels detached from emotional weight. Almost like a biological need. Like eating food. No strings attached, no promises, no permanence. People move from one connection to another until maybe, someday, something feels worth staying for. Or maybe not. The urgency to stay itself seems to have faded. And then came the comparison we always make. The generation before us. The ones who stayed. Stayed through incompatibility, silence, emotional distance, routine, even resentment. They built homes, raised children, carried responsibilities, and passed down values that somehow now feel outdated to the very people they wer...

The Man on the Balcony A few years ago, during my visit to the United States, I passed through Beverly Hills. My guide pointed out a residence once associated with Michael Jackson and began sharing stories , of how fans would gather, waiting for just a glimpse, hoping he might appear on a balcony and wave. It reminded me of something very familiar. In India too, outside the homes of beloved film stars, people wait patiently, looking up at balconies as though they hold something more than just a person. Almost a presence. And strangely, as I stood there, I could see it. I could almost visualise him  standing on that balcony, quiet yet magnetic, while people waited below, holding onto a moment they would carry with them for a lifetime. Even years later, that image never quite left me. When I passed by, a few candles were still lit. It had been more than a decade since his passing, yet people continued to come, to remember. That kind of remembrance doesn’t arise from fame alone. It sp...

  Kissa Kursi Ka Life has a quiet way of moving on swiftly, even along the unsettling moments. When someone leaves this world, the pause is brief. Rituals are performed, memories are shared, and soon, routines begin to reclaim their space. The absence remains, but the world does not stand still. It continues, as it always has. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. In the larger scheme of existence, the eternal cycle of creation, preservation, and dissolution that is Brahma, Vishnu, Mahesh exists for all to observe .One creates, one sustains, one dissolves or should l say destroys.No single presence halts this systemic rhythm. Everything that arrives is meant, eventually, to leave. Thus the human life appears fleeting ,almost negligible as compared to the vast scheme. And yet, within this brief span, we attach ourselves deeply to roles, positions, and places. We begin to believe that these define us. Kissa Kursi Ka. In some homes, it appears in the quiet antici...