In the early morning hours from my room's window, I see the tiny red euphoria flowers shinning in
full gleam, fresh from the morning dew and basking in the warmth of the early
morning sun. With a pause I look at them silently, yawn and get lost in my
thoughts. It seems ages since I touched flowers, smelled them and saw the bees buzzing around. In between the thoughts, I turn my back and have a look at the wall clock.
It seems to be staring hard at me. Immediately I get up from my bed and splash
the water straight on my face, as it’s already late.Finally I am awake, away from the dreamy mornings.
I get ready before I am late for office. Eat my breakfast and stand decked up, all
set to leave. Many a times I have to take the metro and inside
it’s same as the bees in the beehive, everybody is almost on the
top of each other. Thanks to the thoughtful Delhi
government that we women are privileged enough to have a separate coach else it
would have been a big chaos. Despite the mad crowd, it’s usually a lonely start to the mornings. People read
to themselves or listen to music. Some are glued to their mobile and sometimes,
silently greet the blokes, whom they see every day while travelling. Many a
times they know each other by face but, yet they are strangers.
I reach office, smiling faces, full of energy are all around but, then there are some, tired and seem as if they are burdened not by work but with their life. Some of them fake things quite well, their mind is all the time occupied with calculations and planning of all sought and then there are few like me, sometimes perky and sometimes expressionless and hard for others to decipher (mood swings…no I’m not on drugs). The gallons of work followed by the relaxed sips of tea and pepped up by the chatters and not to miss the lunch time where one keeps the dieting plans at bay just sums up the entire day. Between all this sometimes comes a thought, why can’t things slow down a little, why can’t the tea breaks be a little longer, why can’t the boss wait for the project reports and weekly analysis.
It’s the evening time; even the sun seems slothful now. I move back, this time a little fatigued after spending one long day at work which seemed much longer than the years I have lived and then all of a sudden it sounds wacky, a little senseless.
I reach back home, walking through the groves. I see Birds flying to their
nests, little children moving back to their pads after long hours of play and
now here I am, in my room. I look by my window side, it’s all dark.
