Anirudh Bhardwaj - The official blog | Poems | Short Stories | Articles

It was a hot sunny day in the month of February. As the scorching heat receded and the sunset approached, I went to my favorite evening hideout. There is this ancient stepwell (Baori) called Toorji Ka Jhalra in the old city where I often go in the evening for some quiet introspection. For the past few days though, the visits have been more frequent, not to mention the increased amount of time that I’ve been spending there lately. I don’t even know why I have been going there every day since last Friday or what I’m going to achieve through my regular visits in the evening. But there is something that’s drawn my attention quite recently. And although my brain will never admit, my heart knows deep down inside that it’s the very reason for my frequent visits to this place.  Oh, you must be wondering how the heck is it so hot in the month of February, right? Well, that depends on where the story begins. While most stories are usually nestled in isolated places and scenic locations, mine...

She was standing there at the Jetty. Looking at a distant ship, she hoped to be on one. So she could just run away from all the trouble this life had been giving her lately. She was looking for an escape. And that's probably the reason why she had come thousands of miles away from her hometown, hoping to leave her worries behind. But that didn’t seem to help either. In a city full of strangers, she felt vulnerable. And why not? She had never been anywhere alone after all. And this unplanned trip to Goa was never on her bucket list. Of course, she wanted to come here, but not like this. Not as a loner who was looking for a peace of mind. But the turn of events that took place lately changed everything. And after all that happened, she wanted to get as far away from that place as possible and landed up here in Goa. Yashasvi had just completed her post graduation and in the weeks that followed, she found herself surrounded by sorrow and trepidation. At the age of 26, Yashasvi ha...

Keeping my cell phone on the lower shelf of the counter, I took a step outside to admire the beautiful weather. Sensing the petrichor that scented up the surroundings, I could tell that a thunderstorm was fast approaching. The arrival of monsoon in Pune is a moment to rejoice. Tiny raindrops embracing your face like a gentle breeze, it’s something you can’t experience anywhere else. Standing on the front porch outside my cafe, I could see people enjoying the moment. Seeing their smiling faces, I felt intoxicated all of a sudden. Like all my worries were fading into thin air. Soon enough, the dark blue skies started pouring rain, and I stepped inside. As I sat on the executive chair, my eyes scanned the interior to know the current occupancy. The cafe was almost empty. Except for a girl who drew my attention the moment I saw her. It wasn’t really the girl who drew my attention, but the book she was reading. Partly because the book was all I could see, for her face was right be...

The drive till Lonavala was quite smooth but as we took the Amby Valley route towards the Lion’s Point, the visibility suddenly dropped to merely 15-20 meters. It was a foggy trail and the mist covered mountains and valleys were barely visible. For the next 10 kilometers, I had to drive in third gear at less than 40 kmph. And it took us almost an hour to reach that place, a journey that should have been covered in less than 30 minutes.  As we stepped down at Lion’s Point, we were greeted by a misty weather and cool breeze sloshing our bodies with piffling drizzles. The ground was a bit muddy due to incessant rains but the climate absolutely stunning. Our voices were barely audible amidst the sounds of the bustling wind which struck our ears in the most amazing way. The view, however, was hindered by the fog and mist. The fog was so dense that we could see nothing down the hill except for the tiny traces of verdant valleys straight ahead. “I told you, visiting Lonavala...

By the time we reached Purushwadi, it was all dark except for the tiny traces of light in the sky. It looked like the entire village had very limited electricity. Most of the houses were lit with oil lamps. They were not even houses, they were thatched huts that looked centuries old. More or less, it looked like backward region of Maharashtra that remains untouched by the urban population. I wondered that’s probably what most Indian villages looked like before independance or years before that.  There was nothing to admire except for the greenery which of course was because of the monsoons. During this period, every village in Maharashtra will offer this kind of verdancy, perhaps even better. The whole village was surrounded by agricultural lands. As we moved further, we were greeted by several local villagers. Most of the men were wearing Kurtas and a white colored Nehru cap. Several women were seated at the front porch of their houses. They wore traditional sarees cov...