For working people like us, weekends are like the desert mirages lost travellers keep looking forward to. The week goes by sometimes at a snail’s pace, sometimes like the hurricanes of the headline news, always in a constant crux of work and disillusionment. The one thing that keeps blaring in our head – ‘5 days to the weekend’,’4 days to the weekend’, ‘3 days to the weekend’ and so on. When I first started working in Bangalore, this was a genuine stressbuster and a thought that generated true happiness. Things, however, have changed in the last 2 years. People have changed, I have changed. Now, the weekends are mostly repetitions of archaic formulae. Be it in some pub, new or old, or in the movie hall or in some restaurant or just in the house, in a lazy scroll of the Facebook pages to find out something not knowing what we are searching for. I haven’t travelled at all till now this year save for a short trip to Chennai which was more work and less play. Reasons are there but nonetheless, the colours seem a little dim, as if photographs are being shot with too much exposure. And before we can realise that we haven’t really rejuvenated, the days flash by in a hurrid escapade. There are too many things bearing heavy on the mind, too many suppressed emotions to grapple with, too many dreams to bury in their inception and too many canisters to be borne to the well for water. The road ahead seems confusing and dull without any marker shining bright which might show us the way for sure. There will never be an absolution, never a closure for the open wounds of the past and there are pits opening ahead of their own volition inviting one to fall.

There are no beginnings now, and no ends. I am just meandering across the dull and dreary plain lands hoping to find the end soon. Wonder how far out the sea is…