An English Wedding

Two of my friends are getting married today. Four and a half-thousand miles from where I am.

Correction: Four and a half-thousand miles from where we are. (They are not just my friends, they are our friends)

We once lived four and a half-thousand miles away from where we are now. London was a city I instantly fell in love with – the first time I took a taxi from Heathrow to Piccadilly (Yes, I did that – I didn’t know better; later I was doing the end-to-end on the tube on Piccadilly line, many times).

There’s no doubt about where we should have been today. And yesterday. We were supposed to be at that wedding. A few years ago, there was nothing that would stop me from being there. Today stands, hands on hips, part aggressive, part apologetic and tells me that I cannot. Agreement and acknowledgement seem to be having an argument.

Vengurla Port MH India

There will be other times, I know, but there is a sanctity to this moment that I cannot absolve. From four and a half-thousand miles away, I wish both of them the best that my heart can imagine, and beyond.

My today tells me of the power of the tomorrow that it carries for me, yet, in spite of all the realisation of my dreams – it can do nothing to help me “be” in that one moment that has been yearned for long yet lost. That’s where tomorrow becomes humble; but it is up to me to be magnanimous and allow my tomorrow to manifest.

Today is real as it exists; tomorrow is as possible as I can make it.


R&A, from where possible, I hope you will pluck the joys that this life has to offer. There’s more low-hanging fruit than we have known.

Lotsalove and God Bless!


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