Place.

Nothing in life can be determined. I genuinely feel that you could be anywhere and be happy, or be at that same "anywhere", and be unhappy. I'm not saying that it's all completely in your hands (though it largely is, yes), but I am saying that where you are doesn't matter. A one way ticket to the States does not guarantee you happiness. Neither does a million dollars. Sometimes, even someone that you love can disappear. Life is not written out. You may do certain things, go to certain places, with the hope that you'll do greater things, be a better person, achieve a greater level of satisfaction, of happiness- and it may all backfire. 

Maybe that's my biggest fear.

Lives.

Meera

Meera looked into the morbid darkness ahead of her. All she had known for the last few nights was heat and dust and mosquitoes  The streets of Chennai were cruel in the summer, and ever since she had been forced to move into her small lodging to find odd jobs to support her aging mother, life had been a struggle. She watched a middle-aged man speed by on his bike. Ah, if only she could even afford a bike, she thought. If she had that kind of money, life wouldn't be as much of a struggle, surely?

Raj

As Raj slowly made his way through the small alleys of  Mylapore, he passed a young girl trudging through in the dead of night. Normally, he would have been concerned, and would have even offered to drop her at her destination. Today was different though. His wife, who had been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer a few months ago, had not shown any response to the six sessions of chemo-therapy that she had received so far. Her condition had reached a critical point, for which he had to quit his job to be able to take her to the hospital if any emergency arose. He felt weighed down with troubles, with responsibility- how was he to manage even basic survival, now that expenses needed to be dug out of his savings? What about his kid's education? He couldn't help but feel that everything he had ever worked for was slowly crumbling down in front of his eyes, and there was nothing that he could do about it. At the traffic light, he peered into a Mercedes car and glanced at the suit-clad man inside. Maybe life would be much easier, more problem free, with that much money at your disposal?

Sathya

Sathya had to hold back his tears as he sat at the backseat of his chaffeur-driven car, on his way back from a late night at work. Not that anything really mattered to him, at the moment- in terms of work, that is. His sixteen-year old son had just committed suicide. So this is what it feels like, when they say that the worst thing that can happen is to lose your child, he thought. More than anything, more than even the death, he felt responsible  Had he not been a good father? Had he not given his son everything, been there for him when he needed help? What had gone wrong? What had he hated so much about his life that he had ended it? So many questions, not a single answer- not even a note.

I watched from the outside as all three people struggled with what life had handed them. I watched as they watched their lives fall apart. I watched, and all I wanted to do was hold them and say that this is unfair, and that life will offer them something more, something better, and maybe the best thing of all- hope.

Capital Punishment

How much is too much, is my first reaction to any thoughts on capital punishment. But a friend pointed out an interesting point to me today- the punishment must be severe enough to stop other criminals from following suit. When I was told this, it seemed like a very obvious answer that I was surprised I had never thought of. Perhaps I've taken my arguments on relativity and personal opinions too far that I've stopped believing in looking at things objectively..

Timing

I smell the lingering wisps of your love,
I feel electrifying swirls of it.
Like tiny Christmas light bulbs
Lit in the middle of July
It's out of place, unnecessary, scorned.
Not because it lacks beauty or color or shine,
But because it lacks timing;
It's either too late or too early,
And for that, I'm sorry.

Possibilities.

A compilation of the ifs and buts,
A complication- what could have been,
A foggy possibility like no other,
An existence that we can never see.

What we don't know, yes, it wont hurt us;
What we could have known, will it?
What the tides push forth, we know now;
What got lost in the tides, we never will.

Here we are, again.

Drifting between lines, shuffling between roles,
Tip-toeing around what was never ours;
Spiraling, looping, going back to the start,
Reaching out for the non-existent,
And passing by it, letting it pass us by.
Always; go figure.

"Maybe later will be better"

We keep putting off so many things for later, never realizing that there may be no later. I do it so often, so naturally. Not in a procrastinating kind of way, no. I mean, life goals. Like, reading that book, writing that novel. Losing weight, going to Egypt. Falling in love. I put everything off saying that I'll do it later, when the time is right.
There is no right time for these things. It's always now or never in life.