Un-tweetable Shortie

Stray silences and distant 'ayi-je's suddenly shake her reverie. Squatting inside the blue and yelllow bathroom, she realises even her happiness is dysfunctional.

Sigh now. It's the end of an era.

Bandra. Neel. Bandra. Work. Bandra. And then some.

The end of wanton mornings, and hopelessly over-longed for evenings.. of weird new house parties, and truck driver's hangouts. Of mothering myself, mothering another, being un-mothered and then mothering some more.

Its going to be a new freedom now. Freedom from negative labour, negative card balances and an overload of carbs. Now for some of that thing they call family life, whatever that is. It's been too long, I've forgotten what it is. Not that I regret not having it much.. but there's a new pining. A pining for a tiny hot meal after 400 hours of ugly airports and over-done hostesses. Of no time to sleep and too much time to read without the power to concentrate. Of too much hard disk space wasted without time to watch. Of a perenially poor larder and walls that insist on growing. I'm over saturated now.. like my bedroom wall.. retaining too much water.

Now it's the time for padding up the wallet, and unpadding the seat of my pants.. of shared nights and also, shared mornings. Of having many things to get away from at the start of the day and returning to chirpiness at the end of it. Look forward, without teteering on thin ice. Unlock the dreams stocked up, let go rather than grasp desperately.

6 years of wantonness.. and now I'm done. Working on life is bloody hard work.. I'm happy to share the load. Now for some of that 'reaping the fruits'.

Oh! To be able to tuck in at night and wait for sleep to come.