I often dream of the days where I am on vacation, wake up slowly, open the window to let the breeze in, feel fresh, brush my teeth, take bath, sip a cup of coffee served steaming hot on a clean table, have a delicious breakfast with at least two chutneys, take out my backpack with essentials for the day, for me and my loved ones, walk out locking the hotel room, exchanging pleasantries with the hotel staff and explore the places around, taking my time, slowly.
I would watch the roads.
I would watch the people.
I would watch the trees around.
I prefer to walk around for most part of the day, soaking the scenes what I am watching, cherishing the roads I am walking, meeting new people, tasting new food and making memories of the moments I am living.
I told you, it was a dream.
At home on Thursday morning, I can wake up slowly, open the window to let the breeze in, feel fresh, brush my teeth, take bath, sip coffee, a hot one, serving it to myself on a clean table, have delicious breakfast with chutney (at home, one is enough), prepare and pack essentials for my loved ones for the rest of the day, pick up my bags, lock my apartment, exchange pleasantries with watchman daughter and start engine of my Vespa to drive to my office.
Tell me, it can done.
Once I am out of home, I can’t change or control the roads I take, the traffic I face, the people I meet, the work I do, the meetings I attend, the calls I take. But in my own little place, I think, I can. Manage.
Tell me, this is not a dream.
Tell me, this Thursday is not a vacation day.
But tell me, it can be done.