It's past 11 p.m. Yet another evening after yet another day of mundane, even depressing routine. The kind of predictability that makes me think I should've defined my desire for 'stability' a tad more explicitly. A little sliver of a flame dances atop the scented candle on my desk. One of those fancy ones sold in fancier sounding stores. A faint mixture of orange and cinnamon scents the air as I sink deeper into a coffee-and-fatigue induced stupor.
It's one of those days. One of those dammitall phases I seem to be slipping into for increasingly frequent and longer stretches these days.
Mebbe it's just the job. Despite all that the bosses say, they know and I know that all I am is a glorified 'Maker of Pivot tables'. Certain unshakeable facts stick to your mind even when you don't want them to. And make you question just about everything till you're in one big, sticky, messy loop. Like, should I be more aggressive? Should I switch profiles? Should I even be doing this?
What am I trying to prove?
WHAT THE HELL????
A cool breeze finds its way into the room, carrying the sharp tang of evening rain with it. It plays with the magazines strewn around, ruffling the pages in a mock Mexican wave. My candle flame dances, flickers, cowers down and springs back to life again. Pretty much like some of my convictions.
Like the conviction that backed some of the important choices in my life. Some individual, some collective. For the individual/greater good. Or so I thought at the time. But there's this nagging doubt at the back of my mind that unleashes itself when I least expect it.
Suddenly it doesn't seem so smart to have refused a chance offered on a platter. For everything I thought I wanted. And still think I do. I can't put it out of my head. I keep returning to scan it under a microscope, to keep probing it like I would an aching tooth. I guess it will vanish only when I get a choice better than the one I turned down. And when would that be? Will it be???
Call it quarter-life crisis if you will..... is this human, or is it just me?
Outside, the low, steady notes of a conch fill the air as a city erupts in celebration. The elephant-god has paid his visit, and it's now time to see him off. The Vignaharta smiles down benevolently, flanked by palm fronds and chasing-lights, festooned with ropes of marigold and rose. His devotees surround him, dancing to the dhol-beat in a gulal-suffused mist.
Inch by inch, he meanders through the suburbs to join others of his ilk, and make his way southward to the sea. In a few hours from now, he will be lowered into the inky depths of the Arabian Sea, leaving nothing behind, but a few ripples and the remnants of floral tributes. Relieved devotees will then go home, having entrusted their lord with the year ahead.
The patter of rain grows louder outside. My candle flickers and cowers again as the shadows dance in sync. Cast your burden aside and move on. Consign your fears to the depths and look life in the eye. Like you would when you know that your deepest, darkest cares have been laid to rest in the ocean, never to rise again.
Would that my uncertainties were stilled as easily.
