March 14, 2011
With the run-up to the season being the most wonderful of times, packed with dreams, plans and all rosy thoughts;
Though execution of practical dos become akin to throwing a spanner in the rosy world of expectations,
Yet eagerly we wind it off at the earliest to jet set off to a land, even nearby doesn’t matter,
As long as we are away from the routine alarms, deadlines, greetings and dressing-ups,
Even the mere thought of going on a holiday comes across as a glistening dew in the morning sunrise!
No sooner the destination is reached than your plans and dreams squabble with one another for attention,
That you soon forget you were to pamper those tired bones that creaked loud back home;
Dreams sans gravity takes the lead followed by plans that trigger your velocity to zap past,
In earnest and new-found vigour you savour the days and nights alike…
Hobnob with friends and gossip with relations until your neighbours drop in to say a good word
And you excuse yourself with an long-due appointment at the tailor and rush off to stop by the cinema;
Famished of tastes at old joints, diets and caution up in thin air you stir up nostalgia,
Gargle out all sane suggestions until you get a warning from within
Some unwanted choices and yet you refuse to rest for a few hours to settle that grumbling tummy;
All in the name of experience you zip it up with an excuse of real work to be done and dash off to the insurance firms and banks and the likes;
That’s when you are reminded of religious rituals and offerings that can’t wait until the next visit and so you trail the elders;
Having pleased all near and dear ones you draw out the list thrusted upon before take-off,
Special ones from close friends and if-you-don’t-mind requests from colleagues all you sincerely check out;
Now lemme kick those shoes off and relax – you tell yourself,
Only to hear, so what time is your return flight tomorrow?
Time flies and you realise you missed those glistening dew and gosh even the crimson sunrise!
The thought of winding-up the holidays pricks you sharp like misplaced thorns on a bouquet of roses;
Packing the bags you feel it is the most torturous of tasks you’ve undertaken,
So much so you simply toss them all in and shut before they spill out;
Travel documents you are reminded to check as goodbyes and regards choke amid withheld tears;
Finally, aboard the flight you heave a sigh of relief!
Now is that of a hectic holiday left behind or of chores awaiting you?
Before you can even fathom you begin to hear those tired bones creak and you wanna kick off your shoes,
When the fasten-your-seat belts sign comes alive and its time to land
Time to return to all that is yours and only yours
Duties, responsibilities, aches, pains, yearnings and pleasure in no particular order begin all over again;
But you take time out to look up and see the full moon as you jog and lo! even smell a rose before you walk into that party hall,
Yes, you even get to see the crimson sunrise as the alarm vibrates your ear drum each weekday morn;
This is life! you reconcile and a fleeting thought of positiveness passes through and you bask in its vibrancy for sometime
Before something nags you yet again into that foul mood and you long for those holidays – a far way off.