I am a no namby-pamby, no frills 25 year old. I do not wear stiletto heels (because I can’t walk on those) or put on make up (for an entirely different reason:I am too lazy to invest time for that perfect look– I’d rather mooch around in my room with both hands tucked into my pockets). Basically I have very few needs from life, and thereby I have been rendered incapable of taking shit. Keep it short, keep it simple, that is what I try to follow, but I don’t fail to fail myself every now and then.
So anyway, it is one of those ‘bright’ mornings at office, my workstation being cheerfully lit by the artificiality of an electronic driver, and I am sipping on a cup of espresso-latte concoction (my weird taste buds dictate thus to be prepared each morning), wondering what to do. One might wonder why so? You are at office, there should not be dearth of work for you! True that. The Boss might saunter in anytime, and point out that you have a pile of unfinished chores and demand with high authority to show the cause of your ‘nonchalance’. I get terrified at the idea, and with quick agility gulp the hot liquid at one go, zip open my backpack and plug in my laptop.
Outlook opens…now I can relax for a few minutes, till my inbox is updated, while the ‘busy bee’ that is me, checks for updates on WhatsApp. 201 new messages (I gape at the enormity), all from my college group, a few scores from the girls’ group, a generic ‘hey, how are you’ from few out-of-contact close friends, and sometimes, to spice it up, my estranged best(boy)friend comes up with a ‘I have been thinking about us’. It’s been three and a half minutes, yet Outlook is still updating, I make a mental note to raise a ticket with the laptop maintenance guys. I check a few messages on WhatsApp, choose to not reply, and vouch to call them up once I am back to my sordid 1 room apartment, while this tiny trail of thought nags my mind for a second: they are going to see the tiny blue ticks and maybe, I don’t know, feel ignored? I shrug a mental shrug and keep my cellphone away, while with a dry expression open the mail. It reminds me to release a signed document. Document it. Get it signed.Redo redo. A million times (ya, I know I am exaggerating, but it is worth it). I am bored. I want to go on treks. Need to buy a rucksack and good shoes, I muse…as I imagine myself walking in line with a Sherpa, en-route to the snowy Himalayas.Meanwhile a jaunty ‘Good Morning, Priyanka’ from the cheerful senior across my desk brings me out of my stupor. I wish him back and as always I am at a loss as to what to answer to his “What’s up?” I wish he realized it is one of the toughest questions you can ask a person, still severely drowsy from rising late (read: 8:55 am, most days).
Shoot. Its 10: 15 already! I trundle to my workbench, turn on the instruments, moisten the sponge and clean the tip of the solder iron.I look around. Tweezers: Missing, Cutter: Missing, Screw Driver: Missing, (Hey, I found my earphones!). I collect what I can from around the Lab, and life goes on with occasional cracks from my workbench (that is when the transistor couple becomes too hot to handle). A couple of hours and it is lunchtime. I collect a 50 rupee note from my purse and follow others into the lift waiting to take us to Level O. Same old, same old. I am bored. I want to go on treks! Wonder how a Maggi-addict like me will get sick of it after consuming it straight for 15 days while camping on the snowy plains. Bonfire and snow. Sunrise and snow. Maggi and butter-tea. And snow. If only, I sigh as I load a ladle of daal into the plastic bowl. An hour passes by through chitchats, munches and gulps; and its time to go back to work. The team trifurcates, as I slouch upstairs for a quick nap..I shut my eyes and sink in…and it’s 2:30. I make a quick list as to what to complete before 6 pm and get set to work. I record a couple of readings from the room next door, and copy them into my Excel file. Confident, that in two days time, I will forget where I have recorded my data, I nonetheless retain its default title “Book 1” and spare myself the couple-of-seconds-worth labor of renaming it. As I open a folder to save the sheet in, a pesky little sub folder, which I so lovingly named “Read Up” catches my eye. Open it and therein lies a plethora of PDFs that I have happily put off for ‘some other time’. I never completed it. No wonder I suck at electronics. I will read it after office, I promise myself.
Time flies. It’s 6.30. I pack up,and glad that another office day is over, I accompany my cab-mates out of the building. Have to study back home, have to complete the assignments I have boldly registered myself in, I keep reminding myself. Would it not be so much fun if I could go on treks? No studies, no routine. My camera and the soft snow.
As the cab halts outside my place, I push aside my dreams, realizing for the umpteenth time that I better ‘build my career’ first, and that treks are for luxury, not a regular thing. I need a steady source of income for which I need to go on with this mundaneness for a while at least, before I can fling this routine out of my life and lunge forward, my heart all set for hiking into the unknown.