Have you ever had that feeling that you're ready to crash, curl up and sleep till eternity, but you have no place to do it? It happens to me a lot - always in the middle of the afternoons on days that define the term 'bone tired', usually in the middle of the week when the deadlines are over and the next ones have not begun looming yet.
What keeps me in my fake-leather swivel chair, surfing the net to keep my eyes open, is that I don't want to go home. I can't crash there: Nino's nap times are non-existent, and going home in the middle of the day is like a treat for him: he wants to do so much stuff with me, I can never get over the guilt of closing the door on his face and going to bed. Who am I kidding. Closing the door on his face? He'll barge right in with his questions. (Did I tell you the cousins call him Mr 20 Questions? I think its mean, but sometimes I say it to him too.)
My bachelor pads were the perfect places for a snooze. Dark, empty, music if you please, with just the right small snack left in the larder. Quiet and devoid of people and children. In shady lanes of old localities, far away from the traffic and yet, close enough to hail an autorickshaw. Friends would pop by all the time, looking to recuperate bodies and minds and sometimes weary souls. For two hours, and a cup of tea shared with me. I often left my key under the doormat: I worked long hours in college and I knew the importance of an afternoon nap, given the emotional torments of a not-yet-adult heart.
I miss those places and spaces today, miss having something similar, not really mine, but open to me, to use. To curl up and sleep underneath blind-darkened windows, not worry about the cook, the kid, the boss or the help. Life can be faced after it's 4:00pm.
3 hours ago