When it isn’t Nine to Five
And you look away from the screen…
“Tick tock, goes the clock,
And all the years they fly,
Tick tock, and all too soon,
You and I must die.”
- Doctor Who
Monday to Friday…
Mornings blurred by the rush in an attempt to scramble to our desks and mimic stone statues…
Tick tock, goes the clock…
As the clock strikes five, the Rush returns. We reboot our systems to ‘seamless navigation’ mode and zip through swarms of people or cars or both. We, the people of this corporate world serving various corporations, have evolved to exhibit a ‘work-mode’ through weekdays. I, for instance, channelise all my focus on a screen filled with overflowing information, all my strength in keeping my bottom in a chair with wheels and all my intelligence in typing mails to be understood globally.
Then comes along a day when the 9'o clock strike has no relevance. Well to be fair, there are two days that come along in a bundle. The irresistible Weekend. The two days that define our other five working days. With a blink of an eye, the 48 hours dissolve with friends, family and household chores.
But then every once in a while, I have a date…
A date with a new culture, a place beyond my boundaries of work and chores. A date with a new city. A date with me, enthralled with the idea of beautiful weekend. And I fall in love with myself, with a journey that enriches me with every minute. These dates, though few in number, make up for all the hours I spend in commuting to a cold desk, a luminescent screen and terribly predictable cafeteria lunches. You may still be rushing to catch trains, your journey defined by check-ins and check-outs, arrivals and departures and yet there is sense of poise. A zen that settles around you while you travel making you feel ‘ this is it!’. A feeling composed enough that you itch to wear your backpack again once it ends…
Being an architect, the buildings and I have a special conversation. However, travel isn’t all about the architecture, it is the life in the city, the people gathered around squares, the lazy lunch in a park and the noisy kids in a museum that amuse me. One learns a lot by being just a silent observer. Often I carry a book with me to a quaint little cafe on the streets and yet I find myself intrigued by all that that surrounds me in the new place. The open book as excited as me to absorb in all the thrill the new place has to offer. Excitement mixed with a hint of caution. And with that I continue my walk through the lonely lanes, along a canal, on the winding path listening to the stories of the city unfolding in layers.
A quiet whisper. An vision of an itinerary drawing it self up as I write…
A craving stronger than my hunger. A get-away from all the digital madness around me. I need new streets to walk in, to look at the sun in the face and enjoy its warmth, to hide inside broken sheds in the pouring rain, to feel the wind of a new place on my face. New histories waiting to be unraveled, museums radiating it’s rustic flavours, streets smelling of sweets and savouries to explode on my taste buds…
And with this I bid adieu as I head off to find myself a new date…
Originally published at nivetofive.blogspot.com.
