Exactly a year ago today, I entered my office and found harried security guards handing out sanitiser and taking everyone's temperatures. Later that day, we were asked to pack up our stuff and work from home. Having arrived from Pune just that morning, my back was sore enough for a natural disinclination to return there immediately which, in hindsight, wasn't the smartest move. What happened on the following Saturday is covered here. So, what's a year of working from home been like?
Different. Chunks of the day lived in a daze, efforts plateauing and feelings riding a pendulum from rage to surrender. At home, work having a compartmentalised existence is a luxury. It's like that old Smirnoff Ad line - Life is happening. Where are you? At my desk, flagellating myself for shekels of course. People walk in during meeting calls, errands that could wait till weekends now demand urgent action on weekdays, one is more aware of our elders ageing, and all too often, the question arises - What's the point of all this?
It's not all bad. As I mentioned to the HR last year, I don't like long commutes, crowded trains and the semi-permanent humidity that leaves one sweating after a 2 minute walk, so I don't miss all those things about Bombay. Back home, I am fortunate to have a space of my own. Maybe one thing I miss is the absolute freedom of being the king of my own rented castle. It's a completely different experience to know that I could have muesli (or samosa pav) for dinner and no one would know or care. However, I did have one grouse. Due to logistical constraints, my desk faced a wall, which left me with nothing to look at when I wasn't staring into the laptop. The layout at the office was just as shitty. Daydreaming is invaluable but it's hard to do when faced with a wall painted Amul butter yellow (don't ask). Being reluctant to move things around because going back to my own place always seemed around the corner, I kind of suffered in acceptance for almost a year. However, in a sudden frenzy of activity, we got some urgently needed masonry and carpentry work done this weekend, after which I bit the bullet and finally moved things around to suit me.
People talk about how this pandemic has brought pause to their life. In my case, it seems to have hit the rewind button. The desk I've had since school now faces a window again, looking out over the Parijat Tree (night-blooming jasmine) and beyond it, a scrub-filled yard. The only view is of blue sky and green leaves. Birds chirp constantly; delicate little sun-birds of various hues, a sparrow or two, yellow butterflies and a cat lazily sauntering on top of the boundary wall is what passes for traffic. Ever so gently, a mid-afternoon catspaw makes the leaves tremble. There's a serenity in this outside scene that's missing from life on the inside. It's an escape from the harried here & now into... a more languid, meditative, still here & now, if that makes any sense.
The desk, the view and the setup of this room evokes a sense of deja vu. Replace bearded me with a clean shaven version and hey presto, it's 2001 and my 20s are ahead of me. In fact, I still play cricket with my college friend, only now the body tells me to take it easy.
Of course, this is a mirage because it's not the same room. Books are no longer the reason for my bleary eyes in the morning. I have traded in the blessed mystery of a land-line for the brutal certainty of a cellphone. A squat desktop on which I'd spend hours having fun playing games or IM chatting for a sleek laptop on which fun is banished and chats are extinct. Not doing my 'homework' has consequences. My changing interests are often solitary pursuits, beyond discussion or understanding for friends. Too much water has passed under the bridge but some days it seems like I have been rooted to the span rather than navigating the river and moving on with life. Eventually, I will have to pack up and return to Bombay. Still, I have this view. For now.
Song for the moment: My place - Diana Ross
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