Randoms by AeVey J

The papers lay between them at the dining table, near the window where the rain had already begun to blur the glass. Her fingers hovered over the pen...still, uncertain, almost surrendered. The lights died. For a moment, only rain remained, steady, uninvited, filling every silence they had ever avoided. A flash of lightning carved the room into memory, and then he struck a match, lighting a small candle between them. They didn’t move from their chairs. Just two silhouettes now, seated across years of unfinished sentences. “Do you remember… that first house?” he said quietly. “The one that leaked… and you used to run for a bucket every time it rained.” A breath left her, half laugh, half ache. “I remember,” she said, softer than the rain. Thunder rolled close enough to make the table tremble. Neither of them let go of it this time. Her hand reached across before she could think better of it. He met it halfway. The pen fell sideways, rolling to a stop near the edge of the pap...

It was a quiet morning, but it changed something loud inside me.A few months before my wedding, I reached my mother-in-law’s place with my fiancé, straight after an overnight journey. My body was tired, but my mind… used to adjusting, accommodating, not asking for much. She opened the door and hugged me, warm, effortless, like I didn’t have to earn my place there.After a shower, I stepped out to the smell of fresh pooris. The kind that makes you feel cared for without a single word.She called us to eat. I walked in beside him, and almost on instinct, he said,“We’ll eat later, Maa… you go ahead.” It was such a small thing. The kind you don’t even notice when it happens. The kind I had lived with for years. But she noticed. She stopped. Looked at him, not with anger, not with authority, just with clarity.“If you want to eat later, you can,” she said.“But what if she wants to eat now?” There was a pause I could feel in my chest. Then she added, gently but firmly,“Always ask be...

A drop clung to the window, trembling, like a message she read too late. Then came the rush, relentless, blurring everything she thought was clear. Each streak dragged a memory down with it, sharp, unforgiving. Until even the storm grew tired… and left her with the quiet ache of what remained. 💔

“Do you always have to share everything with someone? You… always talking, always unpacking things. Have you ever seen me sit around and dissect my problems with my friends? We just chill, laugh, and move on,” he said, leaning back like he’d made a solid point. She looked at him, eyes lingering for a second longer than usual. Her lips parted this time. “Please don’t generalize,” she said softly. “Of course you don’t,” her thoughts stirred quietly. “You carry it all, let it sit, let it grow… and call that strength. I speak because I trust. I let it out because I don’t want it to consume me. We’re not the same… and maybe that’s okay. Maybe one day, you’ll see it.” She smiled instead. Soft. Agreeable. And nodded.

She stood by the stove a little longer than needed, tasting, adjusting, smiling to herself for no real reason. When he took the first bite, there was that pause, the kind that says more than words ever could. And somehow, in that moment, she felt full. Not from the food… but from the quiet joy of giving. Maybe that’s what a fulfilling life really is... Not in what we gather, but in what we offer. A warm meal. A gentle smile. A moment of care. Simple things… that cost nothing, yet leave everything behind.

Hmmm… contrary to what most people love about Ooty, the mist and the biting frost, I’ve always loved its bright, sunlit days.  The sky would stretch out in a clear, unapologetic blue, with wisps of white drifting lazily, framed by deep bottle-green pine leaves that shimmered like they were dressed up for an occasion.  Ufff… what a sight. The beauty of it? It never got unbearably hot. Sweating in Ooty was a rare thing, unless you’d been running wild or playing your heart out. Otherwise, you stayed as fresh as a cucumber, the day never weighing you down. You could bask in the sun, roll around on the lawn, and sip on cool lemonade or Rasna that mom had so lovingly made, while she yelled from the kitchen, asking us to stop being lazy and come get our own glasses. If there was a terrace, summer meant mattresses laid out to dry, soaking in the sun. We’d grab umbrellas, settle onto them like it was the most natural thing, play Monopoly, and slowly drift into naps under th...

The 'Not-So-American' Changeover By AeVeyJ Disclaimer: Any wordplay or resemblance to persons, living or otherwise, is purely fictional and intended for humor (the missing “u” is intentional 😜). I woke up to the sound of a pressure cooker whistle. Except… it wasn’t my house. It was Kamala aunty’s house, my house help’s. How on earth did I get here? And that definitely wasn’t my ceiling fan. The ceiling fan was doing its usual struggling-wobble like it had regrets about existing. A steel cupboard stood in the corner like it had survived three generations and was now emotionally tired. Somewhere in the background, a pressure cooker was aggressively announcing that peace was never part of the plan. And the smell… filter coffee mixing with yesterday’s curry like they were competing for dominance. I stumbled to the mirror. And there he was. Ronald. Freaking. Grump. “WHAT THE...” I paused. “…Okay the voice checks out.” Before I could process this international identity c...

Have you ever wondered why someone longs for privacy within a life that already looks private? It isn’t about distance. It isn’t about being alone. It’s quieter than that. Deeper. It’s the search for a self that slowly slipped away— somewhere between responsibilities, expectations, and days that began to look the same. It’s about remembering who you were before you became who everyone needed you to be. Holding on to fragments of memories, small, glowing pieces that once felt like you, now fading at the edges. Because routine… doesn’t ask. It takes. Gently at first, then completely. Boundaries blur. What was once done with love becomes obligation. A role. A rhythm. A responsibility performed without pause,  without question. Without acknowledgment. They call it duty. But rarely do they see the person behind it. Especially the ones who have always given. The ones who were taught that giving is love, and receiving is optional. The ones who stayed, adjusted, absorbed, until...

My Superpower? The ability to mute reality… and replace it with the perfect background score for every situation.  Let me elaborate… because clearly, my life is just one long, overdramatic music video. Before I begin : Feel free to swap the songs with your own favourites as you read… because obviously, your life soundtrack may differ from mine 😉🎶 Picture this... I’m in the middle of an argument that’s going absolutely nowhere. Words are flying. Logic has left the chat. Patience is on vacation. And just when I’m about to say something I’ll regret... TINGGGG… Din ka Chaka Din ka Chaka 🎵 https://youtube.com/shorts/AC5K0Gy_G1w?si=5h-EuDrDzcgCbwN4 Suddenly, my ears are blessed with full surround sound. Backup dancers appear out of nowhere. Someone hands me sunglasses. I stop mid-argument. Do a slow-motion turn. Walk away like I’m in a music video. Argument? What argument?  Hmmm...now cut to... Me, stressed, overwhelmed, one minor inconvenience away from becoming a ...

“Ray, has the cake arrived? I hope it’s exactly what we ordered, otherwise Pret is going to be annoyed on his birthday.” Sui was all charged up, bustling around, overseeing the arrangements with nervous precision. It was that one time of the year when the whole family assembled in one place. No excuses whatsoever. There were only a few minutes left for the party to begin, and the last of the guests were hurrying in. The doorbell rang. It was Trek, Pret’s father. “Ah! Finally!” exclaimed Sui, pulling him into a warm hug. “You remember, right?” Trek whispered into her ear. She froze for a moment, then slowly nodded. “It’s time,” she murmured, resting her cheek briefly against his chest. “It’s going to be fine. We’ve got this,” Trek said perhaps more to reassure himself than her. “Moooooom! Daaaaaddddd!” a voice shrieked from inside. The couple startled and replied in unison, “We’re coming!” They stepped in. The small space was now crowded, packed with guests, all glistening i...