I cannot believe six years have passed by since I started this page. Though I missed the 17th February deadline, it was always there in my heart & mind. I thank those few who actually remembered and sent me wishes for it. Coming close on heels to my own birthday, makes the short & sweet February even more special. Good I started it in this month only (honestly, more by chance than by design).

Yes, six years! That’s more than half a decade of writing, though erratic – mostly irregular – yet all there, ensconsed within this site, and its former avatar (on rediff.com); thoughts, stories, reviews and random other stuff enshrined on this nebulous but fabulous space called the world wide web.  Indeed the entire world and extremely wide – with readers from USA, Canada to Europe to Pakistan to India (mostly) to the far East, and one even from the far-flung Australia (though no longer here these days).

Of course, the blog has seen its very hectic & frenzied days, around 2004-06 peaking in 2005 when I was in Nepal, and seemed to have far larger time on hand. That’s when I reached my creative zenith, the highight being those stories that I churned out (if I may be a bit immodest) with superb elan and easy chutzpah. Many times, I go back to them, trying to reconstruct the moments when I wrote with a furious vigour.  Writing a story today looks well nigh impossible, though fragments of plots still crowd me. To give them shape & form requires much more (mental) free space than I have currently.  I haven’t given up. So I expect neither should the readers.

Random Expressions & I are grateful for all its readers for its sustenance & for all your love & affection.  A huge thank you!!!

Look at life’s irony – there was a time, on this very blog, when I had wanted to give it up all and walk away. During those crises-ridden days, I sought escape routes that were not available, and as lazy hours stared back with their longing eyes, I would return to this page, trying to form words out the creative stupor and nether that I was in.

Today, the scenario is diametrically opposite – I have so much to tell, yet I am not able to find those lazy hours (nay, moments) where I can sit leisurely to sort that jumble of thoughts and events and celebrations into a neat and tidy readable post(s). Here is, in capsule, all those posts that never saw the life on this blog, but could have been, and who knows, might also find themselves written sometime in future:

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“Will you be able to recognize me?” she asked on the phone, after informing her flight details. “I guess so,” I replied, not very confidently. I had seen her photo only once earlier. “In any case, I will carry a placard,” I laughed. The phone disconnected, and I continued the drive to Delhi – excited about the upcoming meet.

RS, as she chose her on-line name, is not an unfamiliar name for the old-time bloggers here. Her humor in everyday bitter-sweet situations and family life packed in a solid punch hitherto unseen on the blogs, and all of it in the most artless and unassuming manner. The simple abundance in her blog is …well, abundant! We first ‘met’ online on a common blog-haunt, commenting on each other’s space, moving to chats on the Yahoo Messenger, and eventually exchanging mails. She quit blogging a year back, but her page is alive with her animated writings, for those who would want to check it out.

At the designated time I reached airport, amused that her flight was to land at 12:35, a time which in our school days had spawned off a corny joke (try saying it aloud in Hindi in Anglicized accent). The flight showed ‘on time’ and even as the clock moved ahead of the hour, it still showed ‘on time’. Was it actually delayed? Still, to be on the safe side, I stood near the railing, amongst myriad another tour operators/friends/relatives, holding an A-4 sheet carrying her name in bold black letters.

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Hosting a conference turned out to be quite a massive affair. A week later, I am still lost buried beneath the aftermath exhaustion as well clearing up the bills. In between, I took off to Delhi and took a well deserved holiday. That accounts for the long absence on the blog.

Mercifully, everything in the conference went off with clock-work precision that would make the Swiss proud. True, there were minor goof-ups. In fact, on the day the guests were to arrive, there were several of them (largely thanks to the hotel, who otherwise were extremely good but somehow things went patchy on that morning) but we managed to douse all fires and before the biggest bulk of delegates arrived in the noon we had done the clean-up. When they entered the hotel’s porch, everything was settled the shehnai-and-dhol-and-nagada-wallahs whipped up a resounding welcome note, the girls from the hotel in bright red sarees showered fresh petals, and the cool welcome drinks were served meticulously.

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Yesterday, my car and I celebrated our ‘Togetherness Anniversary’.

Six years back, on a balmy March evening, I had brought home the shining and spotless white Santro from its maaika, a leading Hyundai dealership in central Delhi. The smooth, power-windowed and power-steered Santro was a striking change from the old model Maruti that I hitherto drove. The pride on my face rivaled the smirk that the car’s frontage carried.

However, two days later we had significant adjustment problems, and I angrily sent it back to its showroom the airconditioner wasn’t functioning properly. The showroom assured it was a minor issue and refused to take it back; and promised that it would set the car right and it would never give trouble again.

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Four phases of life, three cities, two job changes and all through there remained one constant – this blog. Every time I look at my first post I cannot but help laugh at the following lines:

I am not sure for how long I will be able to continue this blog, but I will definitely try

Today we complete three years of Random Expressions. For someone who has an attention span of a child, it is indeed a colossal achievement that this blog has survived three years.

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Where do I begin? Where do I end? She is part of my continuum; a companion of my life; a portion of my soul. She is like the gushing blood in my veins; the air that breathes through my lungs; the beats that thunder in my heart. She sat with me in that school bus on a frosty Greek winter morning, even though I did not recognize her. She walked with me on this potted pavement on a hot Delhi summer afternoon. There, on that rusty bench at the park corner, where I sulked, she soothed my frayed nerves. Here, I was lonely and feeling bored, she came and entertained me. That day, when I joked with friends, she naughtily teased me. This hour, when I saw my first crush, she whispered hauntingly.

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On a sultry July evening they married. She was a young, demure, shy girl; he was ten years elder, handsome and with a permanent government job. Being the eldest of the daughters (and second only to one elder brother) of a large family, she understood responsibility and duty. Still, she was not prepared for the immense family burden that came her way; her first, nervous attempt at kneading the dough was a disaster of titanic proportions.

Yet, despite these initial glitches and occasional hiccups, the couple settled down to their married life. It was an archaic time; television, internet, telephone and even gas had to still enter the households. Their entertainment was a long, satisfying walk of the Connaught Place, an odd Raj Kapoor movie, and an infrequent dinner at the Madras Hotel.

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