She got ready for work and stared at herself in the mirror. Why did she feel the need to escape - she had worked really hard to be where she was. Very early on in life, she knew law was what she wanted to do. She had the zeal, the skills, the passion and the morals to be in that profession. She had done her school proud and then gone onto study law at NLS. When she was graduated from NLS, her family threw a massive party. Why not. They were proud of what she had achieved thus far in life and they were excited about all that she was set out to achieve. It was a perfect life. And she really did think it was. Until one day, at her yoga class in the midst of Balasana, child's pose - she felt a tear roll down her cheeks, the teacher asked them to take longer inhales and exhales - but if she tried any of that right now, she'd break down, she thought. What's wrong - where is this coming from? Work was alright, mom and dad were fine, in fact she was helping her best friend prepare for her wedding - what was this lone tear trying to tell her? When she couldn't hold her breath out longer, she gasped for air and a small tiny whimper came out of her body. Almost as though this fire that was spreading from her chest outwards needed the fanning of the breath, she began to weep. Her teacher would have noticed her back shivering - which is why she must have come and slowly rubbed along her spine almost in consolation as though this were normal. Absolutely normal to break down like this in the middle of balasana in yoga. She stayed in child's pose for the rest of the class and waited for the class to empty before she lifted her head up. She saw her face in the mirror, it had a far away look. She wasn't there. She was, but she also wasn't. She stared at the mirror and asked herself questions.
Staring at mirrors was her way of speaking to herself. What she did others by peering into their eyes to look for answers, she did to herself as well. Except that this time, in that yoga studio, the staring did not result in anything but a deep silence. She was empty. Really. In her eyes, in her m ind and in her being. Aida had run away in hiding. Without leaving any traces. None. Somehow she dragged herself to get up on the mat and walk out of class into the changing room. She gathered her things from the locker and unthinkingly walked away. She did not hear the receptionist saying bye, she didn't hear her teacher call out to her. She walked. Quietly, towards more quiet. Her teacher, Gita, walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. Aida turned and it took her a second to register who Gita was. Gita wanted to talk to her, but one look at Aida's face and Gita knew that something had broken within. She knew because she too had been there. She hugged aida and did not say anything at all. They stood there, one woman who had been through this feeling when you break through the shallow and sink in deeper, telling the other one that it was alright. That it will be alright. She asked Aida to head home and get herself a good cup of tea, all by herself, put on some soft music and just be.
Aida's lost child who had gone into hiding, peeked from the corners of her eyes into Gita's and managed to smile. She nodded in agreement, gave Gita's a tight squeeze and walked on towards the stairs.
She reached home, still in a daze and opened the door to her house and shut it behind her and just stood with her back against it. In darkness. Just she and the sound of her breath. Shutting that door made her feel a lot less alone, a little bit more secure. Ironically by shutting out the world and the noise that was drowning, she had thrown her scared child a life jacket to come up to the surface and tell her what she needed to say.
She slid down on the door and sat. Still in darkness. She tried taking deep breaths in and out, but the constriction in her chest from the yoga class had not really left her. There was a tightness right behind her right breast, she was trying loosen that stiffness by breathing into it, but it wasn't budging. So she stopped forcing her way and slowly came back to a more natural rhythm of breath. She felt the need to close her eyes, continue breathing and place her left hand on her heart. She did and she sat there. For a few minutes. And then a few minutes more. Slowly when the knot had almost been undone and disappeared from her chest she opened her eyes and stared at her house. This house was her refuge. She could be having an absolute frustrating day or a disappointment, but walking into this house at the end of the day made everything seem ok. She looked around and a sense of well being began to settle on her. She was ok. Now, she was ok. She willed herself to get up. She put the keys on the side table and walked towards the kitchen. Still in darkness. She opened the kitchen cupboard to take the pot out. Poured some water in it, grabbed a tiny slice of ginger and pounded it in the mortar & pestle. She added that to the water, put the stove on low and walked towards her bedroom. Still in darkness. She sat on her bed, removed her pants and changed into her flow-y pyjamas and a sleeves blouse and lay back on the bed. She grabbed her phone and opened YoutTube. For some reason, she wanted to listen to Faya Kun from Rockstar and so she put that on, casted it to her Chromecast and slowly rolled over to get up to go to the kitchen.
The water was boiling away. As AR Rahman's voice started permeating the heaviness of her dark house, she scooped up some tea leaves and added it to the pot of ginger paani. It bubbled up suddenly and slowly settled back down after a couple of seconds. Kind of like that she was feeling, emotions bubbling up and down. Little girl peeking out and hiding away. Little Aida. Trying to tell her something. But speaking a language Aida no longer understood. The language of her childhood. The language of the wild ways.
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