Random kisses...

 It was a balmy September evening, the kind where the air hummed with the last traces of summer’s warmth, but the skies hinted at the impending fall. Meera sat at the edge of the park’s fountain, watching the ripples in the water as dusk slowly descended. Her thoughts were scattered—work, family, her future—everything seemed entangled in a web of uncertainty.

She often came to this park to unwind, to lose herself in the serene chaos of life happening around her. A couple was walking hand in hand, a dog barked in the distance, and the children who had been playing earlier were now trickling home. As she sat there, she couldn’t help but marvel at how random everything felt, yet how all of it fit together.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Arjun.  

"Coffee?"

Meera smiled and replied, "Sure." But even as she typed, she found herself mulling over something deeper—something Arjun had once said in one of their late-night conversations: “Even the highly regulated functions of life, the beating of your heart, the way cells divide—they're born out of random chances, Meera. Life is the result of chaos that somehow found its rhythm."

As if to punctuate his words, an elderly man shuffled past her, brushing her arm as he walked by. He paused, turning to face her, and for a moment their eyes met. His gaze was kind, his face weathered by time but glowing with a strange wisdom. Without a word, he gently took her hand and placed a soft kiss on her palm.

Startled, Meera blinked. But before she could say anything, the man gave her a brief nod, as if acknowledging some unspoken understanding, and continued on his way, disappearing into the park’s evening shadows.

She stood there for a moment, her mind racing. What just happened? Who was he? Why had he kissed her hand? It wasn’t flirtatious, nor did it seem like a gesture of pity. It was something else entirely—a simple, fleeting act of connection. It felt like a moment that had been created out of pure randomness, yet carried a strange significance.

Meera couldn’t help but think of Arjun’s words. Life, she realized, was full of these random occurrences. Cells randomly combine, chemical reactions happen by chance, stars explode and galaxies form. The creation of life itself was the outcome of endless, chaotic interactions, somehow aligning to bring forth order. Maybe the kiss was one of those random moments—a small ripple in the vast ocean of randomness.

Later, as she met Arjun at the coffee shop, she recounted the encounter. Instead of laughing or shrugging it off, he leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. 

"You know, Meera, we like to think that life is a series of planned events, but everything—even the most regulated functions—are effects of random actions. Cells mutate randomly, and that randomness sometimes creates life, or destroys it. What if that kiss was like one of those mutations? Something random, but powerful, altering the course of things in ways you don’t immediately understand?"

"Or maybe," she mused, "it was just a random old man, being kind."

"Maybe," he said with a grin. "But randomness has a way of creating meaning, even if we don’t always see it at first."

As they sipped their coffee, Meera found herself wondering how many of her life’s moments were shaped by chance. Was her career a result of deliberate choices, or had it been steered by unforeseen events? Were her friendships, her relationships, even her very existence, the product of random happenings, like cells combining in just the right way at just the right time?

The thought lingered as the evening darkened. After they parted, Meera found herself drawn back to the park. The fountain still trickled quietly, and the night air carried a slight chill. As she sat down again, lost in thought, she felt a small tap on her shoulder.

Turning around, she saw a little girl, no more than five or six, with wide eyes and a mischievous smile. "Are you sad?" the girl asked, her voice soft but curious.

Meera smiled. "No, I’m okay. Why do you ask?"

The girl didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned in and gave Meera a quick kiss on the cheek, then giggled and darted off to her mother.

Once again, Meera was left speechless. Twice in one evening, she had been touched by random, unexpected kisses from complete strangers. Two people—one old, one young—had given her something that felt both insignificant and profound at the same time. Was this just coincidence, or was it something more?

As she touched her cheek, warmth spread through her, not just from the kiss, but from the realization that life, in all its randomness, was deeply interconnected. Every event, every moment—no matter how small—was part of the larger pattern. Even in chaos, there was beauty. Even in randomness, there was meaning.

Perhaps, Meera thought, random kisses were like the creation of life itself—born from chance, yet carrying a purpose beyond what we could immediately see. Life, after all, was just a series of random actions, finding their rhythm.