An Open Letter to my Day

I have been tasked to describe you today. To be precise, I have to describe what I do in the expanse of the twenty four hours you bring me on such a regular basis. In the simplest sense, you are merely a means of measuring time, aren’t you? But you do a lot more. You govern the world’s routine; we wake up at your behest and sleep at your command. You are the pervasive reminder that we are getting older, that time is slipping away. In a way, you are the executioner of nature’s greatest will.But, you are also my constant companion; my inadvertent confidante and harbinger of new hope.

Invariably, I wake up groaning at your arrival.I don’t know if you have realized it yet, but the moment I sense your coming, I start fantasizing about the time when you will leave me so that I can retreat in the comfort of my bed. But the ticking clock forces me to drag myself out of my bed’s warm embrace. You know that mornings have always been unpopular with me. A leisurely pace is the best I can muster at this time of the day. Yet, you keep prodding me with your ticking clock to hurry up and face the world.

Well, once I am out of the house and have some degree of alertness, my adventure with you actually begins. I get out of my building to hail a rickshaw to get to work. Thanks to the location of my building, I don’t usually face problems in getting any. Normally, a bunch of rickshaws swarm at me the moment I wave. I get amused and laugh again at our private joke. Do you remember it? The one where I wish that the these swarming rickshaws could be replaced by swarming eligible suitors or swarming high paying jobs. I know I know, I am too funny. As the rickshaw driver starts to drive, I plug in my ear phones and listen to the the music of my choice blended with the cacophony of Mumbai’s streets.

I reach office in half an hour and then my computer takes me over. The next nine odd hours always surprise me in their shaping. At times they leave me highly fulfilled. At other times, they simply frustrate me. Switching on my computer, meeting with my team, discussion with my manager, calls with the client, lunch at the cafeteria; this is what happens everyday but the outcome differs. To the unassuming eye, these nine hours would be the crux of my existence. But you know me better than that. This is not how you set your tone.

You make sure that there are moments of simple pleasures stashed between the hours of frenzied activities. A kiss from my mom before I leave for work, a cheery good morning from a friend on the phone, boss’s encouraging nod on doing a good job, being reminded that someone is thinking of you and smiling; you do know how to get me going. You lend a patient ear to all my thoughts and plans for myself. At least once a day, you catch me pondering over the purpose of my life. You don’t miss my rueful look when I see homeless people sleeping on the road. And you join me in rolling eyes when you see me arguing with some idiot. Above all, you graciously keep adding items to the never ending list of things I want to do. Be it learning haiku or visiting Peru, you never ask if I am ever going to do these things. You let me be with my own whims.

You stay with me when I return home and chatter with my parents. You know I like to watch TV until late, after my family has retired for the night. You also know, that TV is not what I am interested in. I just like those few moments of peace, the pleasure of my own company. After my eyes refuse to stay open, you send me off to my dreams and leave me there, only to return with new promises in a few hours.

Written in response to a prompt on Daily prompt – Rare Medium




7 thoughts on “An Open Letter to my Day

  1. Pingback: My Day’s Musings(Attempt at poetry) | It's Mayur Remember?

  2. Pingback: DAILY PROMPT: Rare Medium | Nola Roots, Texas Heart

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