When words stop, music speaks. And that is how it is for me when I head home after every working day. Every now and then, I take a breather and replay the clip of my daily life and this is what I see.

The mornings are a series of rush hours – getting up about half an hour later than the set alarm, breakfast for my daughter and her pet.. the hot steaming cup of morning tea scalding my throat as I gulp it down and then snaking through the traffic on the expressway to the dusty town until we reach her school almost five to ten minutes late always as I creep through the sparse crowd to drop her bag while my girl meekly joins the last of her assembly line with slumped shoulders. The pairs of eyes of the teachers, I am pretty sure, meets the embarrassed, invisible, blinking eyes around my head.

The day then heralds into a series of meetings, sessions and an ever piling workload that a friendly face popping in between feels like a mighty rescue, who I could almost kiss and shout Mazel tov!

Then I rush again to pick up the purpose of my life at three in the afternoon, almost always apologizing to the teacher for getting held up or feed him some other blasphemy that I can create, which I am never short off. The charming teacher that she has always shoos off my worries with such a lovely smile but I wonder if he throws darts at me inwardly.

My daughter will then start cribbing about whether I am off again somewhere abandoning her in my cabin until dark. Of course, her fears are justified considering she is pretty imaginative and those are almost always about paranormal activities(hers might be more in cartoon forms than mine)- the traits she has unfortunately taken after me.

At the day’s end, I sigh and drive home straight into a chaos of another kind.

I cannot complain of this life that I am gifted with despite the struggle to balance my personal and working life, as I am sure is wont to be for any working woman. I have learned to value what I have from having faced the lack of it. Today, my daughter is seven and I have raised her on my own for more than half the time. As sadistic as this may sound, I am happier being submerged under workload than be left to stray about. My gender on the other hand has often played my messiah but mostly the devil but hey, when I meet the giver of this life, I will give him a killer presentation on how I have not taken my life for granted, how I have learned to be happy under varied circumstances and justify why he did not make a mistake by giving me this wonderful life.

But it is that fifteen minutes of the drive home that I look forward to every day of my life – when the world shuts up and only the music speaks. It is then that I am transported into a moment so perfect…. into a land that is not of here. Those moments when I feel the sun sink behind the mountains and the shadows lurch after me as I whizz through the cool autumn breeze of my neverland, a feeling of such warm gladness wraps around my heart, and despite its brevity, I feel truly happy.

2 Responses
  1. Anonymous Says:

    Such passion... You should have just gone on and on. It would have been fun to read on.

    So I see you are trying one post a month. Much better than none. Keep going and have fun all the way :)


  2. Kinga Choden Says:

    So you have noticed! I am trying my best not to vanish is all! Keep checking, perhaps once a month!! Lol

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