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It’s been some time since I last
wrote, and for once I have loads to write about. Except of course, as luck
would have it, this also happens to be the one time when I cannot in fact write
a lot. The reason for which will be apparent as you read on.
Well, if you’ve been reading this
blog for a bit, you might have noticed a rather growing sense of restlessness
and de-motivation in me lately. Or maybe you didn’t. This is my way of saying
that I think I was growing more and more restless and de-motivated with each
passing day. Until it reached a high point when I thought I was my depressed
best about my career and work and life in general.
And then I got angry. I got angry
with myself for being such a spineless crib-pot. After all, I’m the girl who
considered Scarlett O’ Hara an idol. And there is no way in hell that Scarlett
O’ Hara would sit down and cry because life was not what she had planned at the
age of 25. And with a glint in my eye, I said to myself, the words she often repeated
to herself, “After all, tomorrow is another day!”
As tomorrow came about, I woke up
without snoozing as much as usual, and actually smiled at myself in the mirror
in the morning. Today was the day…I could feel it in my bones. I got dressed,
found my old sandals to put on for luck, gulped down breakfast, and set out. The
morning was surprisingly chilly, reminding me of Delhi winters, and brought an
instant smile to my face as I felt my nose slowly go numb. I passed by a kid
squabbling with his mother and smiled at him, and he shut up and smiled back. I
was glowing, I could feel it, and I knew the world could see it.
This of course is around the time
that my auto spluttered to a halt in the middle of the road, but I managed to
get another auto in a matter of seconds, only reiterating my belief in the day
ahead.
I reached the station on time, ducked in and out of the crowd, and
headed to the stairs leading me to platform 7, where my train not so patiently
awaited me. This is also around the time that I realized that my
old-worn-for-luck sandals happened to be rather worn out. So did the steps at
the station. The realization however struck somewhere in mid-air, before I came
crashing down, laptop and all, and landed on my back on the station stairs.
I would have cried on the spot,
had it not been for the shock I think. The shock of suddenly finding myself on
my ass when a second ago I was beaming about the day I was going to have. The shock
of how much it hurt. And the shock of how in a city which boasts of its good
and helpful and friendly people, not even one person paused to help me get up. I
heard the usual ‘Ooohs’, the chuckles at the sight of someone falling, but not
one helping hand. I’m sorry Mumbai. You just lost.
I did make it to office that day.
But barely for a few hours. I realized I couldn’t sit/stand/walk/move without crying
out in pain. Let alone do any work. As it turned out later after doctor visits
and x rays and the lot, I’ve fractured my tail bone. Which means I’m spending
the next month or so on my stomach in bed, with a hot water bottle on my ass.
And believe-you-me, it aint that easy to write, or do anything for that matter,
in this position.
And with that fall, comes about a
forced vacation, time back home in my own bed in Delhi, probably an end to any
hopes of a good career in my company, and a lot of time, to think.
So I set out that day, all full
of enthusiasm, ready to kick some work’s ass. The only ass I ended up kicking
was my own.
As a friend later mentioned that
day, “This is why you shouldn’t be such an enthu-cutlet!”
Amen.
