Monday, 26 November 2012

There and back

I had a military maneuver like Thursday, last. I often complain that in time of extreme craziness, life leaves me alone. Some are busy, some traveling, some sick, when I need them. But in the years of accepting the insanity that creeps into my life every so often, I have learnt to (I think) make do with what I have. 

The child is grown up, somewhat. I delegate tasks to her and try not to get frustrated when she goes off into her dream world and forgets. I feel free to call in a favour; request a car; leave clothes behind on the bed. But most of all, I have learnt to not blame the busy, the traveling, the sick, for problems that are clearly mine, and of my own doing. 

I left in a trail of smoke (sort of) to Mysore and we had a good few days there. It felt like I was on borrowed time because of the things that I sort of Had To Be Doing this past weekend, in Chennai. For the marathon, for the course I am teaching, for a meeting we have later this week with collaborators from abroad. 

I am a little out of breath from everything. But I am happy. The child is happy. She hung out with her (second removed maybe third) cousins and really enjoyed herself. Her cut lip healed and looks fine now. Her appetite seems recovered somewhat from last week's levels. We discussed the Gerald Durrell earnestly, to her father's chagrin, and agreed that Larry was even more irritating than Leslie. 

I enjoyed running in my home town. I took the husband on day 2 through my favourite routes. He said that I hardly seem sentimental about the city, when clearly, its a place that one should be over pouring with poetic verse about. Well, I try not to think about it. But when I run there, its sheer bliss. I run through the University grounds, and hit the lake area, and I just feel so content. 

"Do you feel like a few more miles?" he asks me, as we troop back near mum's apartment. "Always" I reply, but we stop nevertheless and enter the tiny, squeaky clean place with cool floors that will always be more home than even my much-loved gigantic new house. We rush around getting ready, and I pin up my sari and close up the suitcase and move on. 

Of course I love the place with all my heart. Its my haven. To be enjoyed rarely and in small doses. Its not where I want to live right now. I want to live here, on my bullet train. And when the nerve synapses get ready to explode I want to get away and stand there in the middle of a run, ignore all the men trying to size me up, and stare at a gnarled old tree spreading its branches over the Geology Department. 

But now I am back. The things That Had To Be Done, haven't gone away. Instead, they have grown horns. I borrow a bit more time to jot down my thoughts. But now I feel ready. Its Monday. Its bound to be manic. But I am ready for it...

1 comment:

Choxbox said...

I agree with L - your city inspires poetry!