Journal Entry

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PhoenixStory: An Intro

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I started this blog as a virtual diary for penning my thoughts so that I can heal myself. Who am I? Well...the world calls me a widow, the forces call me a war widow, but I call myself a married woman whose husband is now in a place akin to Alice's Wonderland. It could even be Peter Pan's Neverland for all I care. The bottom line is that we no longer physically live together because of unforseen circumstances or as is popular in the forces "due to service exigencies". Do I regret the kind of life I am presently living? To be brutally honest, YES, I mean, who likes to move around amidst people with their eyes either filled with pity  (as in "poor thing") or sarcasm (as in "look at her!!! No shame and no remorse!!!). Or its at times lust whereby people think that I am readily available to toy around with since I have "no strings attached" now. Well, its been six years and attitudes of majority is yet to change.  Yet, I have now stopped bother...
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P.S: The Day

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Where do I start my story? Should I begin from the day it all happened or the day I had a premonition? Well...lets keep the latter for another day. It was one of those comfortable months in a small town of Tamil Nadu where people went about their businesses quietly. I was a happy working woman. In fact, I couldn’t have been happier. I was working in an organization which was my extended family, had been married to the man I loved since past six years, had a naughty little four and half year old to run behind and was  five months pregnant with our second baby. I was on cloud nine. Which woman wouldn’t be???  On top of it, I was now walking, rather rolling, like an unguided ball due to my baby bump. Like always, reached my office and immersed myself into a long-pending file. My phone rang and my heart skipped beats. He always had this effect on me even after six years of marriage. We spoke for a few minutes as he was in a hurry to go for his sortie. I never knew that it was...
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P.S: Moments Count

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The irony of life is we live in days and years, yet it is not days, weeks, months or years that define our existence. A life lived well is made up of cherished moments and not the number of breaths we have taken. Sadly, it is only after a death in the family, own family, that the importance of life comes to the forefront. In fact, one never thinks about living life in moments unless someone close to us has died. After my husband died, I got a lot of time to introspect. In fact, much more than what a normal person would have got, thanks to me being pregnant. So... as I looked within and travelled down the memory lane, I realised that if I counted my married life with my sweetheart in days and months, I had barely lived with him. Inspite of being married for six years our days of being together in the same place was less than a year. Does that mean we were not happily married? Or we didnot have a life as a couple? Well, the answer is NO because when I started counting the moments we h...
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