Every
weekday morning my mobile alarm goes at 5 am and with a half-open eye I finger
the mobile to silence the alarm. Even a 5 minute delay getting out of the bed
can mean a lot when living in an urban city where all people move along the
same direction to work. You can even call it the direction towards achieving
their goal or ambition. The very thought of missing the train at 8.45 am,
reaching the deserted share-auto stands at 9.00 am and waiting forever outside
the elevator to get up eight floors at 9.15 am gets me out of the bed. But then
there are somedays’ where I use the back-up alarm and give myself a 15min grace
period with my pillows and blanket. And today was one such morning.
After
reclaiming my oral hygiene, I pick up the milk packets outside the house and
come back to the living room with the hot cup of coffee in ten minutes. And
this how my weekday routine begins. The only 5 minutes of my morning that I
don’t compromise or economize is my coffee time, but I still multi-task. With
coffee tumbler in one hand and iPad on the other, I quickly check my mailboxes
(personal and work) to mentally make a list of things to accomplish for the
day. Anything outside the list, be it a wedding reception or a hospital visit
or catching up with a friend is parked for the weekend, until or otherwise it
screams emergency.
I
reach the gym within the next 20 minutes and I make eye contact and exchange
pleasantries, but rarely strike a conversation with fellow healthy souls. And
when I do, my brain rings an alarm and reminds me of the huge Masai Mara
migration outside Tidel Park at Thiruvanmiyur, Chennai. Not sure if I should
call this focus, dedication or indifference, but this is how my urban life is
and runs by the second hand and not the minute hand.
The
request
I got
back from the gym routine this morning, my grandfather who had come down from
the village to spend a week with us, was waiting near the gate. Before I closed
the gate behind me, he asked me to bring out the car and drive him to the
nearest salon. I looked at him for a few seconds and asked if he had an
appointment only with an intention to postpone his shaving plan to the evening.
At the village, the barber would visit his home at my grandfather’s convenience
and give him personalized attention, but in the city we visit the salon when
the barber is free.
The
guilt
I had
invited my grandparents from the village to spend a week with me and I wanted
to show my care and respect, but not delegate and dismiss it. This was not on
my morning to-do list and if I had known this earlier, I would have cancelled
my gym routine and happily taken him to the salon. But then how do I handle
unplanned requests with a smiling face? Should I outsource or delegate?
Understanding
my long pause, my grandfather volunteered to take an auto ride to the nearest
salon and get a shave.
For
more than 30+ years, my grandfather went out in the hot sun, watered and
fertilized the mango trees, ensured they were plucked in-time and packed fresh
consignments week after week for us. Today, I don’t have 15 mins to spare for him.
After
my prolonged silence, he came back asking for lower denomination currency for
the auto ride and shave. Without hesitation, I opened my wallet and shared all
the change with him, along with that went euphoria and sense of achievement
from the morning workout.
An
hour later, my grandfather trudged back into the house, but with a beaming a big
smile (minus the thick beard) and I was at the breakfast table with my head
down, burdened by shame and guilt. He called for my grandmother and asked her
if she had packed my lunch box with mangoes he had brought from the farm.
I
felt uneasy and the commute to work felt longer than usual today morning, not
because of the mad traffic, but from guilt and lack of time for loved ones. Later
that morning, after I finished clearing my emails and after drawing up the
check-list of activities for the day, I called up my grandfather to let him
know that I plan to take him out in the evening to discuss our plans for his 81st
birthday. He spoke to me with the same warmth from before, I choked for a
second and I realized how unconditional love doesn’t come with SLAs and doesn’t
make a fuss about a simple “Yes or No” or “inability”.
From
California to Chennai to Canberra, every one of us run the urban rut and focus and
on meeting our SLAs at work and end up feeling guilty and helpless when it
comes to loved ones. So, welcome to the urbane life where loved ones small
favors they ask get pushed for the weekend, while work, helplessness and guilt
gets right-of-way.
