A Day in my Life

Woken up by the alarm, I rush to the kitchen to switch on the stove and warm my frozen hands. Making tea is more out of need than out of habit in 2 deg C in Shanghai. Breakfast made and served to my husband, I say a shivering ‘good-bye’ to him at 8: 30 a.m. In the company of wooden furniture, kitchen, washing machine, unwashed utensils, my laptop, my books, and the internet it feels colder than usual. So, after having bathed and dressed in a muffler, two sweaters, two pairs of socks and hand-gloves, I lock myself in the bedroom with the heater, too engrossed in warming myself to realize I am “tip-toeing on the surface of life”.

It is afternoon and the temperature is comfortably warm. I amuse myself with a movie. And then, around 4 in the evening, I muster all my strength to step out of the cozy warmth of the room and go to the horrid coldness of the kitchen to wash vessels. But once I am half-way through the vessels, the temperature is such that I can afford to think. I become engulfed with the thoughts of what my life means to me and what I am doing with it. I deliberately cook slowly so that I have some more time to ponder on my life. Sometimes, my body would have a life and a mind of its own; totally disconnected with my mind. And at times, I would just sit and stare outside the window at the immaculate and clean streets in the misty cold weather, the naked trees; people calling for taxis, the policeman with his bike, children crossing the roads, the teenagers walking together, the quiet and brooding middle-aged women, the cheerful new mothers with their babies…Suddenly, I realize how banal my life has become and how overwhelmingly distressful it is becoming by each passing moment. It is as if I am sleep-walking through life. There is nothing to “do”. There is no one to talk to. I am tired of being stared at whenever I go for a walk. There is nothing that would make me quit thinking about my life and make me want to ‘live’ it. What does it mean: this nothingness that surrounds me? Is it a cue for me to start something afresh; to find my meaning in something else? Each moment passes incessantly in front of me without touching me and without acknowledging my existence. When will I find myself? When will I be happy? I am restless, eager, almost panting looking for myself. Almost automatically, I switch on my laptop and click on Microsoft Word. I click open a fresh page and start typing… What I do not know, but there seems to be an urge to pour something out. It feels as if my heart is filled to the brim and has no space in it to accommodate the ‘something’ that has suddenly appeared at its doorsteps. I have to let it out. I am suffocated, breathless, impatient, thirsty, crying…I type and type…anything and everything… senseless and mad…it is just words, words and words…I type and type…something and nothing…its just words. Words…words slow me down, they make me stop, they make me look around, make me see the obvious and the unseen, the street, the trees, the children, the women, the birds, the beautiful sky, the sun behind the clouds, the kitchen, the furniture, the vessels, my laptop, my books, my wonderful husband. I stop. I close my eyes. I feel my life around me. I feel the peace, the calm and the silence. I open my eyes and realize that I have finally come home to myself: happy and at peace with my life.