The other day, we were talking about the time we all find ‘difficult’ in a day. I jumped in and said, “For me, it’s between 9am-9.45 am.” That’s the time of the day when I am neither at home nor in office. Actually, physically I am there at home. But it’s like your brain wants to do something and your heart wants to do something else. I am bracing myself to move on from one to another.To detach myself from one to submerge myself in another. Carrying them together is not a wise idea. Then I will lose my rhythm. The story needs a thread, a rhythm.
In my head, I invent time, imagine the clock moving in a slow motion. I forgive myself, my need to be on a pause mode. It’s like giving grace marks in an examination.On some days, lying on my bed, I say to myself, “Let me read one more Pablo Neruda’s poem and then I will get ready.” I tell to myself, “One more song and then I will leave.” That one more song lingers for some more time. Sometimes, I replay the song just to linger for a little while. I love moments that linger or when you can actually make them linger. Without making a fuss. I love the texture in Tracy Chapman’s voice that makes me linger. Even for a little while.
Sometimes, I look at the photo gallery in my mobile phone and think of possibilities of using one of these photos in a story. Isn’t life all about possibilities?
Then I look at my watch and I brace myself to shut the door behind me. I press the ‘G’ button in my elevator and almost in a jiffy, I am on the ground floor. And then I am caught in the whirl of a day. A sea of possibilities.
The desk beckons to me. To tell another story.