I lie down on the blue lounger in absolute comfort at the end of a long day, thinking about it all once again—this life, the days, of how despite these comforts, every day is long and stretches into midnight and is muddied like watercolours being mixed on a plastic palette. The day is as long as I have known any day to be. I read a few poems and watch the sky flicker with lightning in the distance. They triggered a storm warning yesterday, and all of us braced ourselves. Winds of sixty, seventy kilometres per hour, gusting up to eighty, the message warned. The storm dropped in the middle of the day. The dark, looming cloud over the valley cried pearls of hail. For some time, everything was quiet.
Nothing but the murmur of the rain existed for a while. We remained cooped up as we are on most afternoons. Most people did what they would do anyway, albeit with some pauses. Many windows were opened, I believe, to get a moment of respite, and dogs whimpered away into corners only they knew of. Then, the rain stopped, and out we went like clockwork. Nothing ever stops in this world. People always have places to be, things to do, and errands to run. I went to the mall to get some things, and it was as crowded as always—cafe after cafe and pub after pub filled with people. The grocery store checkout still queued into a deadlock, and tired workers stood pressing the same screen, opening the same drawers, counting the same cash and swiping the same cards.
Nothing stops our will for the mundane. The real adventure is the struggle to find a cab or a dilapidated rickshaw. Everything else is a scam, snake oil, and dreams sold as if they are any better than what most people already live. A person on a coffee run has more purpose than a hippie meditating on some mountain. The people who fall through the cracks pretend they have the answer to a question that does not exist. Most people only wait for the rain to stop. Then, they quietly go out and about their business. It is the most purpose anyone ever needs—to leave the house and know where you’re going. I lie on the lounger, tired. But tired as I am, I would not replace a single day in this life.