It’s in times like these where one would open the gate to the first floor’s balcony and step outside onto the cemented flooring, asked for that much needed cup of tea and just sit there only accompanied by ones thoughts and the Marie biscuit, which upon given a slightly elongated dip, would crumple up into that mushy ball and fall to the base of the cup.
Looking over the ledge onto the street which, on the days the universe pleased, remains serene. This was one of those days. The lighthearted breeze flew in from the west to give the trees a bit of a brush, helping them to sway to the rhythm fate has in store for them. The hum of the rickshaws was heard, and the continuous rattle of motorcycles rang through my ears. On another day these noises would seem a torment, a torrent of loud sharp noises indistinguishable from the way grandmother used to scream when I had picked the wrong knife which was to be used to cut into the whole turkey, but not today.
Today was a kind of day when one went out for a walk, the kind of day when one would be seen smiling, pupils widened, admiring the little details that one missed on another day when one would have been too busy to notice. It was one of those days where one would take a step back at life, take in a deep breath and exhale all the worries that seemed in times like these to be so superficial.
For all the calm and serenity that did prevail over the pleasantly overcast Karachi afternoon, a sense of melodrama could not help but to seep through. The sort where one receives a premonition of what is to come – the same clichéd connotation one derives from phrases such as ‘the calm before the storm’. This hint of predictability of the road one’s life can take seemed to resonate through the listless attitude that one had towards the ‘what was to be’ on such on day. Not ready to face the realities of life the next day but to bask in the frivolity of one’s incessant plea to escape all that one surrounds.
Looking beyond the hustle and bustle of the city – this sense of escapism is necessary once in a while. To remain adrift from the world, to indulge in one’s day dream especially in times like these. To get far away from what really affects one and to indulge in the sorrow felt as the biscuit crumbles to the end of the cup, sweetening it just that much more.