Trivial things have begun to matter now. I toss and turn - my bed always seems too hard and my pillows too high. I find myself craving every cuisine that I hear of. To add to it all, I am perennially broke. Staying away from home brings to the forefront everything that was, earlier, too small to worry about. My daily emergencies consist of kurtas running colour and inner-wear disappearing into thin air.
Though the room I stay in now offers some familiarity, it does not give me the same sense of comfort that even the thought of home brings to me. Waking up with just enough time to get dressed and leave has become a luxury that I cannot afford. I lose myself in my thoughts, wishing I was walking back through the doors of my house only to be greeted by silence and a hungry cat. Still deep in thought, my hand moves to the fan regulator, only to remember that it does not work. Like a lot of things in my life.
There are times when I long to be left alone. I am finally learning to shut the rest of the world out. With my earphones in place and a book in my hand, Perdeler by Apocalyptica and Sebnem Ferah provides the perfect foil to Anton Chekhov's engrossing stories. "Ere I had learned to drink of tears from the chalice of life..." sings Yonich, a character from one of Chekhov's tales. And I find myself at home again.
No comments:
Post a Comment