My Om time!

I returned home from work on a Thursday afternoon. Walked into an empty home and plonked myself on the sofa, waiting for the SMS. It arrived 10 minutes earlier that I expected. ‘Landed. Cal u frm hme.’

And I got into action.

I slept, ate, read, wrote, ate, slept, read again and slept once again. That’s when I woke up to the thought that I actually had time to myself. So why not breathe in and out correctly. In the way it ought to be done.

I soon realised that that’s one herculean task for a shallow breather.

So I slept, ate, read, ate, slept, read again and slept once again.

The next day I tried with eyes open. Attempted several times and saw only my boobs rise and fall. The tummy was royally sprawled across my middle refusing to let me pump air into it.

What the heck, I’m more stubborn. At last, it succumbed.

Cheerfully, I closed my eyes and chanted the mantra ‘Oooom’ and my knees replied Oouuch!

So I slept, ate, read, ate, slept, read again and slept once again.

The following day, I told myself ego is not a virtue, and pulled up a chair and shifted my bottom on to it letting the knee live its life the way it desires. Gladly, I closed my eyes once again and chanted the mantra ‘Oooom’ and my back replied ‘Ahhhh!’

So I slept, ate, read, ate, slept, read again and slept once again.

The next day, I told myself giving up is foolishness and piled cushions behind and leaned back, allowing the spine live its life the way it desires.

 

Comfortably, I closed my eyes and chanted the mantra ‘Oooom’ and my stomach grumbled. I ignored the rumble and continued a couple of times more. Hunger is no solution to a healthy life, I told myself and got up to rummage the fridge.

That’s when I realised I haven’t been cooking nor replenishing supplies since the husband left.
Chopped some fruits, grabbed a book, put up my feet, telling myself, after eating I will meditate. An hour later, I returned to the workable position and chanted the mantra ‘Om!’

Soon, the events of the day began unfolding before my mind’s eye. ‘Let the thoughts come in. Don’t resist,’ I was taught. So I let them invade my private space. Right from the beginning, the moments played with 4D effect…I saw my computer at the workplace booting up as the creeps frantically crawled all over the place dripping glue to stick their arses around, to the traffic that freaked me out, and the cabbie who kept me waiting because he had no change, to the building security who changed the access code of the door, until the knocking knee, the rude back and the fruit bowl with chewed pomegranate seeds… I even heard my mom on the phone and, yes, some Google doodles also featured in my trance. That’s when I shook up in shock, ‘Gosh, what was I searching for? Which deadline was I working on? And I heard the screech…a familiar cry.

My morning 4am alarm to remind me to go to work!

These days I’m on a positive drive. No sulking. There’s always a next time, I told myself.

That evening, the husband arrived after four days and three nights of travel. “So what were you up to, all alone?”

“Meditating!”