Life post break

is different. Bombay post break is different. Three short scenes on this different life so far. Thoughts and comments, as always, welcome.

*****

When did this being on break become cool? We (self and wife) were out for an evening walk the other day and I get a call from someone I know who was – as the term goes – slogging away at office. And it’s not the first one of these types I’ve got. Now I don’t think I’m appearing cool because it’s a decision I took and remember it’s you who’s getting the monthly paycheck. But if you’re gonna shower me with all the “lucky you, how does it feel” thing, then well, what do you expect? So here, this is what I’m up to. I’m taking a walk, seeing the sunset, soaking it all in, on a weekday. I never thought I could do it, and believe me, I wish I can keep this going for the rest of my life. And since you asked, yes, it feels great.

*****

The Bombay I knew from my office cubicle is so distant from the Bombay I see now. One thing I’m sure about is that Bombay sure isn’t dead. As long as its people run, Bombay’s full of life. Overflowing with life. Man, except me, everyone’s running. The poor run, the rich run. So do the young and the old (this seemingly 70+, woman almost trampled me when I came in her way today). Rich and poor alike. Running on the road, running on the railway tracks, running with their cars. All running for something, with something, because of something, towards something. I don’t know what makes them run. But as long as they run, Bombay runs. Don’t mistake this for the “spirit of the city” – if you did, then you’re probably a Bombay romantic. Or work for the media. Me? I’ve never believed in a “spirit of Bombay”. The only spirit Bombay has is money and it sure as hell keeps it high.

*****

The scene that will remain me for a long time is when I’m at a school playground catching up with someone I haven’t met in a while. We’re sitting, watching the kids play. They’re practicing running, athletics or whatever it is. Instructors are pacing the kids, the kids are racing with each other. The older ones are running laps. Over the playground and over the mud-kicked dusty air, the sun is setting, setting off its usual riot of colors in the sky that makes me linger on more to sunsets than sunrises. And there’s this palpable sense of freedom. Of absolute, boundless freedom. I can see it in the children, I can sense it in the air. As a passing thought, the concept of open space becomes more real to me than it ever has in my life. But there’s this freedom. As if all that’s there is that moment. That’s what it’s about really. How free do I want to be. Everything else kinda settles down around. Just like the dust and the grass around those kids.