It happened today.
The past month has been incredibly torrid, work-wise. I've usually caught the last train, reached home at 2 am, pretended to eat something and fallen into a dreamless sleep. I worked weekends and even a couple of overnight sessions, including one at the start of this week. And all the time, I have not stopped looking.
There were many opportunities of course. Silent nights as I've trudged tiredly towards the station, the only person on the road; at 3 am, my eyes stinging, staring at the screen, wondering what line would be appropriate for some press ad; on the trains and in the taxis, looking out into the nothingness of the Mumbai night, feeling the wind and rain howl their symphony; the moments I've spent, wearily sitting on my bed, wondering whether my work & my current lifestyle are worth whatever I'm accepting.
But no. There wasn't even an iota of it. Till today. I was home, having taken a rare holiday for personal work. There's no such thing as an actual holiday at the place I work of course, because the phone started ringing halfway through the afternoon, just as I thought about watching a movie or reading. There was a crisis. The client had rubbished the work we'd done and had sent a stinker to the servicing fellow. After a con-call to sort out the brouhaha that now entails working on the weekend (from home, small mercies of the universe) I went downstairs.
And it finally happened. I stood staring at the grey sky framed by two buildings. The wind was playfully spinning in any and every direction. The leaves on the eucalyptus and neem trees were sighing and the rain clouds were billowing. There was just a hint of rain. And right there, just for that moment, I felt at peace.
I could have stood there forever. I could have taken my usual walk around the buildings, but it's no fun without my old colony friend K. So, I turned around and went home. Maybe I'll find that moment again, soon. I hope so.
Song for the moment: Stillness of the lake - Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma
The past month has been incredibly torrid, work-wise. I've usually caught the last train, reached home at 2 am, pretended to eat something and fallen into a dreamless sleep. I worked weekends and even a couple of overnight sessions, including one at the start of this week. And all the time, I have not stopped looking.
There were many opportunities of course. Silent nights as I've trudged tiredly towards the station, the only person on the road; at 3 am, my eyes stinging, staring at the screen, wondering what line would be appropriate for some press ad; on the trains and in the taxis, looking out into the nothingness of the Mumbai night, feeling the wind and rain howl their symphony; the moments I've spent, wearily sitting on my bed, wondering whether my work & my current lifestyle are worth whatever I'm accepting.
But no. There wasn't even an iota of it. Till today. I was home, having taken a rare holiday for personal work. There's no such thing as an actual holiday at the place I work of course, because the phone started ringing halfway through the afternoon, just as I thought about watching a movie or reading. There was a crisis. The client had rubbished the work we'd done and had sent a stinker to the servicing fellow. After a con-call to sort out the brouhaha that now entails working on the weekend (from home, small mercies of the universe) I went downstairs.
And it finally happened. I stood staring at the grey sky framed by two buildings. The wind was playfully spinning in any and every direction. The leaves on the eucalyptus and neem trees were sighing and the rain clouds were billowing. There was just a hint of rain. And right there, just for that moment, I felt at peace.
I could have stood there forever. I could have taken my usual walk around the buildings, but it's no fun without my old colony friend K. So, I turned around and went home. Maybe I'll find that moment again, soon. I hope so.
Song for the moment: Stillness of the lake - Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma
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