Last day of the year

Today is the absolute last day of the year. I look out of the window of my office and see strips of white cloud marching across the blue sky towards the west. It is quieter than usual all around. It appears the few poeple who haven't gone vacationing out of the city must be in thier homes still, yet to hit the streets with friends and family to celebrate the New Year's Eve. And there would be a very few others like me who are at work!

The evening is going to be different though. The beatifully decked up streets are going to light up. There would be crowds of jubilant people in colourful dresses at the cafes, in the malls, at the parks, and outside every restaurant jostling to make the last-minute reservations. There would be music, and fireworks, and food and drink, and cheer and confetti everywhere to usher in the New Year. There would be hundreds of thousands of phone calls made to wish good luck and good cheer to the loved ones.The celebration would be big and loud, and gorgeous, and will go on through the night, and around the world. When I wake up in the morning, I would love to see the pictures from London and Sydney, and Moscow, and New York, and Vienna everywhere else about their celebrations.

For tonight, my wife and I will have dinner at a Thai restaurant along with a friend. We have luckily got the reservations made. We will then greet our other friends, go for a drive around the city, cheer for a while with the revellers, and get back home.

And I will probably play ABBA's Happy New Year just before going to bed!

 

Getting back

I haven't been able to write in a while. I haven't been feeling good about it. Somehow, it has just not been possible to find time. I am not working harder than I do. I haven't become lazier. Though I am certainly taking a lot longer than usual to reach office, and get back home- the traffic in the city has worsened! And, I have been watching the television a lot more than I do (mostly because I bought a new television set which is much bigger, smart looking and more desirable!).

Today, however, seems to be a slightly different Sunday. I am not doing much (this part isn't different). I have sat down with my laptop, attempting to write. And I have even got started - this is definite progress. I am playing some very old songs from a CD which I hadn't played in a long time- these are some of my favourites. And am munching on some tortilla chips (my other favourites) I picked up in the morning during my weekly food shopping. These are delicious! I love these baked and fried corn flour triangles. I love mexican cuisines all the way. It's a pity that there aren't too many mexican restaurants around where I live.

My fiancee (oh, this happened a few months back- we met, we liked each other, and we got engaged- this story isn't almost as simple as it actually sounds but we will take it up another day) just called to share a 'exciting news'. She said, she tried a new dress in a store, of the size that she usually wears, and it turned out quite bigger. That implies she has lost a kilo or two, and so, she was ecstatic! That is indeed exciting news. As someone who makes very frequent (and absolutely erratic) attempts at losing weight without much success,  I fairly understand how much it means.

It's getting to 9 PM. I will have to rush to the kitchen to prepare some dinner. And, later, watch some television. And, even later, make some resolutions about shedding a few kilos to remain compatible. So, I will stop here tonight.

(Lesson learnt: When you attempt writing and eating at the same time, you don't go too far- at least with your writing).

At my own pace

Life is progressing at a breakneck speed. As it mostly does, with the usual thirty-something's passion for work, and picking up delicatessens at the supermarket, impersonal conversations with friends about politics and the environment and car brands, skipping breakfast, catching a glimpse at the morning-newspaper muting the television late in the night, contemplating on starting a fitness regime, or saving up to buy a house, texting, emailing, and falling asleep with the cell phone by the bedside.

And when I helplessly listen to someone who is in pain, or I watch a movie that brings tears to my eyes, or I abruptly remember the people who taught me how to read a clock or fold my dresses and put them back neatly in the cupboard returning back from school, or as I see all the things that I plan to do in the remaining half of my life and I ask myself who really ever promised me the remaining half- everything, everything around, appears to slow down, as if for me to disembark, and get walking, at my own pace.

Summery days

It's a holiday today for Labour Day. It feels good to have a holiday after just one day of work in the week. I did plenty of work yesterday, and I have a lot to finish tomorrow. I often wonder it would be great if we always had a holiday in the middle of a week- maybe two working days and a holiday and two working days and finally the weekend! Actually, we might end up working harder because we have to finish 5 days' work in just 4 days- but that's only my idea and seems like a lonely religion!

I am sipping my cup of tea. It's a bright morning, and still very, very quiet. The world must be lazily waking up. And it's mild. The temparatures have dropped in the last couple of days, with some rain off and on. Otherwise, it has been serverely hot. The summer has come much before its time, and it's going to be long before the monsoons arrive. The heat is unbearable already. All around it's dry, and still, and parched up. Everyone is talking about the weather.

Everyone talks about the weather anyway. They say one of the most common things people around the world talk about is the weather. They talk about it with friends, with neighbours, with co-travellers and even with strangers. They talk about it on the street corners, in their homes, and at their children's schools. They talk about it while buying grocery, while jogging along the park alleys, or while filing their tax returns. They talk about it over brunch, over the long distance calls, and over everything possible. I do too, as I am doing now.

And while I am at it, I must mention, on these summery days, I dream of a retreat to the mountains, camping in the tranquil, soaking in the quiet and spending a low-key life. 

Flying

I am not disorganized. But as I travel, I mostly fail to reach the airport on time. Even if I got out of bed at 5 AM for a 10 AM flight, took a shower, packed my luggage and traveled only a few kilometers to the airport, I reach at the very final minute that I could have reached. Then, I scamper to the check-in counter, pick up my boarding passes, flit through the security checkpoints at the final call, and when I nearly tumble into the plane, flustered, out of breath, it seems like a classroom where everybody else are at their seats waiting politely for the lesson to begin, and it’s just me who is terribly late. I feel quite embarrassed.

That apart, I love flying. And since I cannot take to the air on my own (as I do not have wings), I love airplanes. I am thrilled by its first motion dispensing boundless power, its strutting on the runway, and its lifting itself up in the air mightily into a smooth glide. I love the feeling of swooping over the hills, the cities and the landscapes, and cutting through the clouds, as I look out of the window.

As I look around inside, I contemplate that it indeed (always) looks like a classroom of pupils with serene faces, who seem very prepared for the lesson. On my last flight though, I was seated next to someone who looked a bit unprepared, as if having come to the class without completing her homework. I witnessed her closing her eyes and pressing her hands against her ears at take-off. She fidgeted on her seat, crossed her legs, tried to get absorbed into reading a book, and then listening to some music, without much success at either. Next, she lowered the window shade and tried getting a nap. She woke up and declined the refreshments. (I didn’t. I opted for a sandwich (that didn't taste quite like a sandwich) and a bottle of lime juice (that was close to lime juice)). We spoke for a while, and soon, she fidgeted some more, crossed her legs the other way, and started all over again at reading the book. After what seemed like a long, long period, as we were landing, she closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her ears one more time.

At the baggage belt, I helped her claim her red suitcase from many other red suitcases. The task was to look for the green tag on the handle. She appeared relieved, like there was no getting back to the classroom at least for some time.

Walking away, I thought, not everyone loves flying.

At crossroads

As the signal flashed a ‘Don’t Walk’, I was distracted by an abrupt purr. I looked around and discovered, next to me, a cat on the pavement. It seemed unruffled, with a definite expression on its face, and was very persistently wagging its bushy tail.

I am not an animal person (and it didn’t seem like a people cat), so I wasn't able to interpret the expression on its face- was it baffled or was it grumpy?

With its head lifted up, showing its black and white chest, it seemed waiting for me to reciprocate, moving its ears impatiently as if directing them to hear what I had yet not spoken.

I looked around again. I watched the busy street. I wondered if it required help to cross the street. I took the first step, it followed. Amazing, I thought, a cat and I were at crossroads, literally!

(After we crossed over, I noticed the second similarity- both of us were slightly overweight, but that isn't so relevant here).

People I meet

Because of the nature of my occupation, I happen to encounter new people every day. I do well to remember their faces and their names for the most part, and as I meet them again, days or weeks later, in the corridor or in the elevator, I quickly recognize them, smile, and say an acknowledging hello!

(There are occurrences however, albeit rarely, when somebody walks into my office, greets me with a grin and a remarkably firm hand shake, while I strive and fail to recall his or her name in those speeding moments. A bit awkwardly then I try steadying the ship, saying without much seeming conviction something like, “I certainly remember having met you but I am so embarrassed I am not able to recollect you name”. That isn’t good for a conversation starter, so it barely helps, and leaves me feeling quite odd and incapable- a whole lot more odd and incapable than failing to recollect my Internet banking password every fortnight!).

Now this isn’t about my occupation per se (we shall speak about the trials and tribulations of my occupation another day). The point I started off making is about that the most fascinating part of my occupation which undoubtedly is the chance to get to meet with new people every day- people who are talented, and hardworking, and successful, and at the same time warm, and modest, and considerate; people who I delightfully interact with, or who inspire me in one way or the other, or who even influence how I do what I do; people who are enthusiastic, and expressive, and often funny; people who are very different from the other as to how they approach a problem, or what kind of coffee they drink, or their upbringing, and even their backgrounds (as in physical backgrounds like deserts, oceans or mountains- because they come from every corner of the world!).

Even as I walk the path of life, I realize, it is the wonderful people I have met along the way that ranks among the best of life’s experiences. It is amongst these admirable ones I have found those that have gone on to become my friends- friends that I as enjoyably have a conversation with today, as I foresee having, when I am possibly ninety years old!