The Unforgettable Desire

It’s a Saturday morning. I sit at home and exist on all days of the week. For the most part, I forget to keep a track of the days that pass by. It’s only Saturday that I check up on. I was once told that I shouldn’t start anything new on a Saturday. It’s inauspicious, the work would never be complete. Given I have been said what (not) to do, I look forward to begin everything on Saturday. I do not plan it, but find myself motivated. Perhaps the sinking realization that yet another week had passed by doing nothing did the trick. So, if it hasn’t settled in your head – It’s a Saturday morning. My alarm went off at 5 o’ clock in the morning. I woke up at 5.30am. I decided that I should restart my morning walks, but not till another 30 minutes. I woke up an hour later. Light was peeping inside my dark room from the corner of the curtains. I looked up at the soothing light that would pierce my eyes in a few hours. I looked up and thought, “I have always taken pride in being alone bu

Last Monday five people asked me, “How was your (first/solo) trip?” I found it terribly difficult to answer them. The more I tried to answer, the more it felt wrong. I told every single one of them, “I need time to process the weekend, let me put the experience in words before I talk about it.” It wasn’t acceptable, beyond doubt. They wanted the excitement, the stories of adventure, the amaze-feels of going alone to another place and also, the mishaps, if any. I felt none of that, precisely because I wasn’t on a soul-searching-through-bungee-jumping-trip. I managed to say, “it was perhaps a much needed break to realize that I am not stuck, I am subconsciously choosing to remain stuck.” They responded that that’s the charm of travelling. I wondered if I could call it travelling at all. Going to another place to sleep in all day – does that really count as travelling? The most common emotion that I felt in the four nights-three days’ trip was anger. I felt that I was divided in