Day 1

Starting a new day, a new life today. Strange how mundane it seems right now, like a lazy Sunday where  I have managed to get nothing on my todo's and hence feeling a little overwhelmed by the time at hand.  It is this lost connection with time that I somewhere seek to re-establish. To disentangle from the spools of imagined arbitrary deadlines tugging at my feet all the time, for all the inconsequential tasks without purpose and ends, forgotten the minute they are done. The motions without the movements.

In the past few years I consciously refrained from taking any direct responsibility where a task would belong to me and me alone and the measure of my worth would be how much I have been able to achieve to the targets set at the beginning. Instead, I took the consultative and coordinative approach, and lucrative as that line of career is, many a time much more than the direct line responsibility, I have doubts about its utility having been so close to the ground and seeing the grease of the cogs, hearing their straining screeches and clangs.

I am tired of dissembling now, of the half-hearted ill-planned plunge everyday into the pits where I do not belong. Of being someone I am not, of pretending to.

Much as the work ahead now looming like a hulking Cyclops and staring defiantly at me with that terrible eye, people are important. So many of them accumulated over the years and yet each as much of consequence as myself. I should never forget that. There would be some worthier of trust and affection, unimpeded, than others and I should never forget that too.

A new day looms ahead. Like every other day. But today I mark with a chalk, an arbitrary chalky beginning.

Stories are neither the beginnings or the ends but how the middle bit is played. The mundane, the routine, sans flourish. That's where stories achieve greatness.