I’m closing in on one month since I came back to Bangalore. Life on my own, in the everyday-living of it, is largely the same. The bits that are different are small, and I don’t notice them until they creep up in seemingly insignificant moments. Like nobody to fetch me that forgotten bottle of water once I’m already under the covers, for example. Mostly it’s a chill, easy existence, this.
I didn’t know it then, but the lightness of being on my own has been precious. And by being, I mean just being. The parts where I’m not doing anything. As someone who has never lived alone before, this feels like coming home to myself.
Today though, I dodged work and went to catch a morning movie followed by lunch which featured a spot of daytime drinking, some wandering about and roaming without a plan, I realised what I didn’t even know I have missed the most, and what I am loving now — this meandering, plan-less, easy-going being. And how much of it seeps in beyond just doing things, into the essence that is me.
Many times, several times a week in fact, I do feel a touch of guilt for having, living and enjoying this privilege. It is a constant effort to fight down that guilt and come back to a place of being present to it and translate those feelings of guilt to gratitude. And so today, wandering about, I had a moment where I felt that pure unadulterated joy of gratitude. The kind that made me feel small in the face of the enormity that is the possibilities that this openness presents. I felt young and free. I felt like a traveller in my own city. Open, eager, curious and easily happy.
Two years ago: Day 341: Grasp