It is time to leave

Or The dread of the last second day

Listen - this feels like breathing again

People often talk about the sadness of the last day of leaving your house after a vacation or stay at home. Lately I have also been seeing reels about it, maybe because the summer vacation has come to an end for many across the nation. But for me what is even more dreadful is the day before leaving. The dread arrives in various forms, one of which is confusion.

I am usually confused whether to begin packing or leave it for the last day. To do it on the last second day would feel too early because some of my clothes and things like my toothbrush cannot be packed for they are still in use. In such a hullaballoo the run of ordinary life is usually lost. Routine seems irrelevant since it is going to change utterly starting the next day; my mother starts cooking at odd hours of the day to prepare snacks for me; the light falling in the kitchen which I see while sitting in hall appears so serene that I start regretting my departure; and everything takes on a renewed urgency - I had to meet my grandparents, watch that movie with mummy, or prepare that chicken recipe for papa, sit on the terrace and paint, and so much more - but, bogged down by the sheer burden (and even despair) of unfinished tasks, the urge to do any of this never arrives.

Today is my last second day at home. I am facing the conundrum again. But I will not succumb this time. In order to retain a sense of the ordinary, I am out for a cycling trip to Ukai this evening. It has finally rained and everything around me has been brought to life. The lush green leaves of the Shirish trees, the smooth grey road with its white stripes, the dark grey stones by the company walls, the vehicles passing by and much else appears so present that as if it is not the world that has been washed in the rain but my eyes itself. I am happy.

Suddenly all my visits on this road over the last few weeks appear like a haze for this new and more real appearance of my surroundings is making me feel that in those earlier visits I had seen nothing, as if I was actually walking through a dream. The rain has lifted the haze not only from my eyes but also my mind. A thought comes to me because of this clarity. I realize that in almost all my conversations with people I only speak to fill time. I do not give a serious thought to what I am uttering even while having important conversations. I am so engrossed in what the other person has to say that I forget that I soon might have to form my own thoughts in my own words and utter them to the other person.

I do not allow myself to follow this thought for longer as it might spoil my mood.

I am reaching closer to Ukai. My cycle passes over a flattened frog and I do not flinch. I might have if it were alive. The roads of Ukai have the freshness of leaves. The air is slightly humid and carries the smell of wet leaves and dung that has started to soften in the rain. As I cycle in Ukai I notice the trees and the soil which is moist and dark from the rain. It is inviting. I break and get off my cycle to walk on the soil. My feet sink in the soil and I like the feeling. The cow walking on the road stops to look at me.

A white jeep with ‘Govt. of Gujarat’ written on it goes past both of us with an air of urgency. It barely misses the cow but the cow is unfazed. I do not remember seeing the driver or the passenger inside the jeep. I look at it till it disappears. When the vehicle disappears and the empty road appears to my vision, another thought comes to me. Every time I am here in Ukai, I see very few people. In fact, on most days during my visits here I might have seen more cows and dogs than people. Where do they go when I am here?

I spend some more time cycling over the empty roads, looking at the doors and interiors of houses, smelling the damp air of the Jalaram temple and touching the trunk and even the dust. At times I get off my cycle just to breathe the fresh and light air of Ukai which I am going to miss so much in Delhi. For a moment I am overcome by an emotion I cannot describe. I might cry. I do cry. This happens often during my visits in Ukai. I mean the crying. I will have to write about it some day.

It is 7:10 pm. My parents must be waiting for me. I am reminded that I do not have enough time. As I make my way out of Ukai to the main road my eyes fall on the bench that sits right across the road leading to Ukai. I have seen this bench countless times and on those countless occasions I have had the urge to sit on it. But every single time I did not sit on it for I was always already so late. I would look at the bench with yearning and go back home.

For me this bench had become a marker of relief but also of the scarcity of time in life. Today I am going to pass it again. The regret was going to take hold of me when I decided to break. I parked my cycle by the side of the road and sit on the bench. The surface is the cool and the sky agog with the evening light. Looking at the leaves of the Shirish tree above me, I soak myself in the present and the feeling that there is time.

Isn’t there?