There is a bridge, which owns the responsibility
for the transformation that I go through on a daily basis. There is a creek
underneath, which clearly demarcates the two lives that I juggle between. And there
is a part of me, which silently believes that if only I could cross that bridge
blindfolded, perhaps I would be spared from the pressures of duality.
Last Saturday, I woke up to the realization
that Diwali festivities could no longer be extended any further and it was time for
me to be on my way back to Gandhidham. The true affect of that journey started
to seep in gradually, as the train traded green fields of Indo-Gangetic plains
for the undulating topography of the north western region of the country. As
the temperatures continued to rise, my happiness continued to fall at a
subconscious level.
I was sad to be leaving home, but I was happy
to be reaching home as well. The only part I was not really looking forward to
was the re-starting of the routine I had happily fled from in the name of
Diwali. However, even though my heart was silently monitoring the conflicting
emotions fighting amongst themselves, it didn’t deem it necessary to trouble my
happily engaged mind about it. Not yet that is.
I reached home and since it was a not a Sunday,
thence, there was this automatic understanding that I had to rush to office.
Consequently, there was an urgency of getting through the mandatory routines of
a homemaker ASAP. One of the major benefits of being in a pressured situation
is that it makes one forget about all other impending issues. Thus, the office
worries (read the second life) got another push to stay in that remote corner
of my mind, which is fitted with the strongboxes of the highest quality. They
simply didn’t stand a chance to start troubling me.
Having fulfilled the compulsory duties, I was left
with no other valid reason to lengthen my leave any further, so I started the
ride to Kandla. However, since I had dialed up my Maa’s number, so mentally, I was
more at Lucknow than elsewhere. Sadly
enough, it was a working day for Maa as well. As a result, the call ended
sooner than later. After putting the cell phone back in the purse I lazily looked
outside the window, to realize that the car was just stepping on the ‘bridge’. I could feel
the hustle bustle of the city life and make out the dense skyline. While I was
busy observing and absorbing the scene, suddenly without any prior notice, the
skyline changed.
There was no way in which I could now ignore
the rising tank farms and the spanning salt pans in front of me. The port cranes loomed
dangerously in somewhat near distance. Abruptly, the scene outside and the
thoughts inside went through a whirl wind. The safety vaults unlocked
themselves and all thoughts pertaining to all the pending (and probable) issues
started to rise. The worries, the stress, the angst, the feelings of not
achieving the self designated targets, of not fighting enough, of helplessness,
of lack of understanding, all got into a cat race to reach the top. Suddenly, I
was a ball juggler trying to do the act with 20-30-40 (and counting……..)
numbers of balls, and the balls were continuously falling on the ground and dying
like droplets of rain falling on a parched earth.
The site of those tank farms was a sufficient
reminder. If the morning routines had seemed tough, then I was in for a reality
check. The morning was just a clip, the film was about to start. I started to make
a mental list of all the documents I had delayed processing in the name of
Diwali. I began to recollect, without much effort, all the devices which were
seeking my attention when I wished them sayonara. Also, all the mails, waiting for
their replies started thrusting their ‘flags’ right in my face.
My ‘daily’ second life had started.
