A Day in the Era of Sentimentality

6:15 AM

As I sat in the balcony, swirling and clanking a spoon in the freshly prepared Earl Grey and watching the vapors waft from the tea cup, my eyes wander at the traffic light below. The sub-urban area where I reside has a road going directly beneath my building and I sat there watching the early morning traffic. I observed the light turn amber, red and green and watched the cars move. I let out a sigh, basking in the glory of a beautiful morning and sipping my early morning brew. This fascinating display of rhythm kept me engaged for some time before I was jolted, almost dropping my tea, by a screeching halt and a honking followed by cursing. The car in front had taken not more than 2 second to hit the accelerator after the light turned green that the mini-truck behind slammed its horn, the aggression disrupting the peaceful moments.

I shook my head and finished my tea, heart silently sniveling at the glorious moments being ruined.

7:15 AM

I got ready and headed out, still spirits high, dusting off the ruined moments of the morning. I boarded the bus, greeted the driver with a smile who made a futile attempt to smile but then went back to the chore of driving the bus and gulping coffee.

Hands clutched around the new-found book, I went to find a seat near the window. I sat down and stuffed my purse in my lap, trying not to encroach the seat next to mine. After getting comfortable I opened the book to the last read page and sunk down in my seat to have 40 peaceful minutes of reading. After 5 paragraphs in, a lady boarded the bus and sat next to me. Her elbow inches away while she dove in her purse and scavenged out a bulky makeup kit. While she dusted some powder on her face and sprinkled some eyeshadow on my book I decided to turn off the overhead light and sit back with my eyes closed. I fished for my ear plugs to listen to some motivational number on the phone.

“Isn’t that the book that has been turned into a movie recently?” she pointed at the book cover I had in my lap. The book had been turned into a movie and all the recent publication had been made to have the movie poster rather than the original book cover.

“Yes.” I smiled and nodded, getting back to unknot the earplugs.

“I don’t like the book covers from movie posters, takes out the originality. An avid reader should never buy a book cover that is not original.” She said with her chin high.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter to me afterall never judge a book by it’s cover.” I said in a feeble attempt to lighten the situation and got back to the headphones. She gave me an aghast look and went on to rant about the importance of book covers. I fumbled with the damned headphones trying to unknot the tangles that had decided to not budge.

After half way through my journey and a lecture in the importance of withholding originality I was left in peace to listen to a podcast.

8:00 AM

I was out of the Bus terminal and onto the pavement, and decided to walk the way from the Terminal to the office, trying to enjoy the pleasant summer morning. The plan was ruined in minutes with people sprinting past me and a few nudges and elbows later I had decided to sprint towards my office. The leisurely pace left for the garden near home rather than storm of morning commuters.

8:15 AM

Walking into my office I saw Mr Dean with a swollen arm and a thick mass of bandages covering his arm. I looked at him with a gasp and hands on my mouth “Dear Lord Mr. Dean, what happened to your arm?” I resisted from adding the “strong, muscular, manly” arm.
He looked up from his desk, injured hand being carefully moved around and said “Oh this! This is just a new tattoo I got.”
“Oh My God!” I said hands folded across my chest. “That must have hurt a great big deal.”
He shrugged and said “Nah, just a little bit. Totally worth it!”

The “it” being “Bragging Rights”.

8:30 AM

I went to get the morning coffee and found a prettily dressed Mrs Sanchez in the coffee room who was heating her breakfast.

In an effort to strike conversation, I complimented her dress and said the home cooked meal smelt delicious. And asked if she could forward me the recipe. Big Mistake!

Apparently the meal had been prepared by Mr Sanchez and I had offended the feminist soul of Mrs Sanchez by assuming that she had prepared the meal. I mumbled apologies and scurried out of the pantry.

11:45 AM

I browsed for lunch options and zeroed in on the one that would deliver the fastest. As I was ordering my thin, lean and super fit, fitness freak colleague stood behind me. I eyed him sideways gulping nervously and looked up after hurriedly pressing the ‘Order’ button.

“Oh Hi Rajesh! Didn’t see you there.” I smiled sheepishly.

“You ordered again from that place.” He said accusingly pointing to my screen that flashed the sequence of steps in processing my order.

“It is the most convenient.” I pouted.

He pulled a chair and sat next to me. This is gonna take forever. I rubbed my scalp.

“Do you know how many calories they have in their food?”

Needless to say what followed was a detailed explanation on the caloric chart and the raising health issues followed by a finger pointing towards my increasing weight and a display of photographs showcasing his 8 perfect drool worthy abs.

After the hour I had somehow lost my appetite.

2:00 PM

As I went down for a 20 minute walk, my daily ritual, I saw Rita from HR taking candid photos with a green oozy bottle of something that looked remotely edible in the nearby park. She waived at me and I followed reluctantly.

“Hey!! Can you take some pictures, I want to post them on my blog. There is this new cold pressed juice in market that all the big celebs are apparently drinking” She shrieked in her nasal tone.

I solemnly nodded, insides flaring at the interruption of my precious moments.

After 50 such photographs she grinned at me as she uploaded the worthy ones on the internet. My 20 minutes were up so I reluctantly followed her back to office.

“How was the juice?” I asked.

“Meh.. Too healthy for me.” and she tossed it in the nearby dustbin as I gawked, my jaw hanging open.

5:00 PM

I went to get my evening cup of green tea. As I smelled the wafting vapors and inhaled the aroma of a grass being boiled in water I saw another of my colleague walk in. I pretended to scroll through my phone and prayed silently to be invisible for a while.

“Ugh I am so mad!”

“What’s wrong?” I reluctantly asked stirring my tea with a wooden stick, after I could no longer find a way to exit without being noticed.

“Apparently I just went down to get a tall cappuccino and the lady at the counter gave me a glance. Top to bottom. Can you imagine?”

No I couldn’t imagine why a random person would give another random person a “look”.

I just wobbled my head utterly confused and in utter lack of a response.

“I am pretty sure she fat-shamed me?”

I rolled my eye and wobbled my head again. A person who had half my waist was complaining about being fat-shamed left me with no option but to nod.

“Thank you! This is very helpful. Let me start a petition.” And with that she stormed out.

7:00 PM

After the long day I had, I pulled out my phone on my way to home on the commute. 50 notifications! I pulled up to see a series of comments on the article that I had shared from one of the magazines for the humor of it.

The comments had included a debate from my Social Media Friends about whether I should have shared such offensive piece.

I accidentally dropped my phone in a drain on my way home that night.

9:00 PM

As I slumped on the bed with Ben&Jerry in my hands and Tom&Jerry on TV I wondered if the world had just become a prism refracting various –isms in different directions. I closed my eyes and cuddled my knees together, trying to gather all the courage I could to face the braggart and bigotry of the next day.

PS: This article also appears on medium under https://medium.com/@swatipareek