Holiday And Home

If doing nothing also amounts to doing something, then I did a lot during the last weekend which I spent it Bangalore. Which mostly included sitting in the balcony and gazing at the horizon, at times with a glass of beer in hand and at times with whisky.

In the newly-developing areas of Bangalore, especially on the road to the new airport, there is still a lot of nothingness to gaze at. When not in the balcony, I would be either in the pool which the balcony overlooked, on lazing in bed with The City Of Falling Angels, a beautiful portrayal of behind-the-curtain Venice by journalist John Brendt, or at the dining table, eating authentic Bengali food. Doing a lot, yet doing nothing. You can afford it only when you are the guest of an indulgent host.

Finally, the Shatabdi Express had to pull up at Chennai Central this morning. I wished I had a host waiting for me, who would take charge of my life from the moment I landed at the station. But this is Chennai, my home: I am the guest, I am also the host. What happens when the guest, back from a soothing trip to Bangalore, expects to be pampered whereas the host, who is bogged down by life, is in no mood to indulge? What happens is this: under the blazing sun, you, the host, hunt for an honest autorickshaw driver to take you home, where the host waits for you with a long list of things that need to be done -- some doable and some you want to be done but which are simply not under your control.

It takes no time for reverie to turn into reality: one moment you are in the comfort of a balcony and the very next moment you are pushed up against the wall. One moment you have someone lobbing a cushion at you while you are lazing on the bed: "Here, keep this under your head or you'll sprain your neck." And the very next moment you have another someone throwing darts (or shooting arrows) at you just because you are lazing in bed: "Aren't you ashamed to be still lying there? Don't you have an action plan in life?" You are jerked out of bed. Holiday becomes home. Reverie becomes reality. Life becomes a bitch. But then, such is life.