There was a time when people worked hard all day long in their professions. As the end of the work timing came near, they began to look out at the life that made them feel whole, and they began to wonder what they would do that day. Perhaps meet a friend or get everyone’s favourite snack on return home or go for a family dinner or perhaps the good movie that people are talking about or just finish the good book that remains pending, and so many more possibilities. My grandparents and my parents all came back from work on time on most days and thus there was a book of memories written there and I cherish it in my heart.
A few months back I sat eating a slice of cake at a birthday party, it was of one of my little nephews. A small party hall was booked and it had an open compound. I sat in the compound to relish a good thought or two along with the cake and a cup of coffee, but the sight there was something I wasn’t quite prepared for. There were other kids at the party as well, and their parents were invited along, however if I had to guess, I saw most of the parents outside in this compound busy on their office calls even though they weren’t at office. A gentleman I was hoping to speak with stayed on the call for more than two hours and here I unsuccessfully tried to eat my cake slowly to not look like I was doing nothing. This was the condition when these people had come home on time which was a rare occurrence.
I honestly don’t understand this life, maybe the work is too good, it certainly pays well, but this life that they have, I don’t think I would wish upon anybody. The big question is for how long can they go on, what are they going to do when their mind or body or both break, what about the small children who had already begun to argue and were becoming resistant to understanding and what about the parents who sat in depression feeling forgotten. Maybe there is a good future out of it because if not then it is certainly costing a lot more than what it is giving and I don’t want to try and imagine a future down that road.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 