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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!”