And how do you begin thinking about yourself when all you have done is compromise?
How do you feel something for yourself when all you know is you do not matter?
How to believe in love when you do not know how it feels?
How do you believe in love wh...
They make you want to give up on life and retire to the mountains forever. The afternoons consist of the direct heat of the sun along with the dry weather, but the evenings are no less. The sun may not be as powerful yet it hits the right spot, making anyone lose even the last bit of sanity they have after the whole day's work. And when you speak of Churchgate, the heart of Mumbai, the crowd is never-ending.
Everyone keeps walking, they are all headed in the same direction. You never know who is next to you, what they have been through or what they will do next. You don't know their name, where they work or where is the place that they call home. All you know, or to be precise, notice about them, is that they are walking towards the same place as you, the railway station. Maybe someone will even be sitting next to you in the coach you get in, or stand next to you at the door, absorbing the wind that hits your face as the train cuts through it, making every hair strand on your head move out of place. But there is something beautiful about this chaos.
You are never alone.
Even if you are in a group of strangers, you know somewhere that these people share the same destination for the time being as yours. You know the empty tiffin boxes in their hands show that someone is waiting for them, waiting to refill it the next day. The phone calls they receive are answered with words like station, platform, half-hour, call you later, etc. For her, hearing these words is the only thing close to feeling at home.
Because there was no place that Divya could rightfully call home.
Sitting in the window seat after being one of the first to get on the train, she plugged in her earphones to continue the episode she had left behind. Another 30 minutes more to get down at her station.
The rest of the journey was her finishing the episode and listening to some songs, letting her eyes soak in the view of the same trees and buildings she watches every day, yet finding something different every time. Her reverie was broken when she heard her station being announced, she got up to go to the door.
The auto ride was a silent one, with her being a bit more observant as she was not familiar with this route. It was an entirely different locality, with the same street vendors and public, but their status was higher than she had seen or lived in. Getting down in front of the enormous gate, she paid the auto driver in change and smiled at the watchman walking in, asking him how his day was. He genuinely returned the smile, answering in Marathi and asking her the same.
She is one of the very few people who remembered his name and spoke politely with him.
Walking into the big corridor of her wing, she pressed the lift and waited for it to come down. This is one of the things that annoys her, waiting for the lift.
Alone.
She got in, her patience running out as it opened on the 12th floor, and she quickly walked out, keys held tightly in her hand. Pushing them through the knob she opened the door to the place which the world thinks is her home.
One which she shares with her husband.
She quickly showered as the heat was unbearable, and she decided to take a short nap in her room which was now cool, thanks to the air conditioner. She never slept in the evening, because she usually had plenty of work to do, but as she had decided to cook something light for dinner she listened to her heart and not her brain and gave in to the tiredness.
It's one of the rarest times it has happened.
The nap turned into a full-fledged sleep and she woke up only to realise it was already dark. Chopping sounds could be heard from outside and she quickly got up, adjusting her T-shirt and tying her stubborn curly hair up in a less messy bun. She saw him in his grey t-shirt and black sweatpants as she walked out, chopping the tomatoes. A cooker could be seen on the gas, meaning rice was ready and she quietly walked to him. Noticing her presence he turned and gave her a small smile, passing her the onions. They cooked with small talk about their day as they had been doing for the past month.
Silence enveloped the room during dinner too, with him typing something or reading on his phone and she just observing him, zoning out in her overthinking at times. After being done with the dishes, she closed the curtains of the hall room, cleaned the tables and switched off the lights while he placed all the things in their proper places. Walking past the kitchen, she noticed a peeled Orange placed in a bowl. Sitting on the dining table, she ate it and realised the seeds had also been removed.
Without creating a mess.
As always.
Impressive.
Washing the bowl and placing it back, she filled her water bottle for tomorrow as it became hectic in the morning. He disappeared as his phone rang she shut the light in the kitchen and using the flashlight on her phone, guided herself towards her room. His room had to be walked past to go to hers, and today the door was already shut. Considering the lights were off, she knew he had fallen asleep.
But he never failed to mutter a good night to her.
A weird feeling rose in her stomach, but she shrugged it off.
Maybe he was tired.
After finishing her paper corrections and entering the remaining marks on the sheet, she decided to sleep. Shutting the lights, she pulled xoxo close and whispered good night in his ears. Sleep covered her senses quickly as she had considerably stopped her habit of overthinking and stressing over tomorrow. No expectations, no hopes.
For she knew tomorrow was going to be the same as today.
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