When you continue dreaming of another day, that's when you have beaten the routine
| The alarm rings into her ears. Her first thought is, "It's 5:30 already!". She drags herself out of her bed, cajoling her son to wake up. She keeps her voice low, not wanting to wake up and annoy others.
"Why doesn't anyone get up and tell me that they'll wake up the kid while I attend to other things?"
She pushes the whining, complaining kid into the washroom and rushes to gather all the soiled clothes to wash. The water supply is fine-tuned with school rush hour, as usual.
"Why doesn't anybody bother to put their dirty clothes in the laundry so I don't have to search behind closet/washroom/bedroom doors?"
The husband won't like this, the kid won't eat that, just cooked this yesterday...she goes over all the options in her head. How she hates this more than the actual effort! Her son walks up to her, still whining and frowning. He demands a hug and she gives in, complaining that he will get late for school because of his shenanigans.
"Why do I have to rush his hugs all the time? It will not be long before he doesn't want to hug me anymore...."
Task one achieved. Waving her son goodbye, she gears up for round two. She makes sure the washroom is free as her husband gets ready for work, serves tea and puts her mind on repeat for the lunch menu - the husband won't like this, the kid won't eat that, just made this yesterday....
She works on auto-pilot - cleaning up the house, making the beds, cooking, attending to the house-help, discussing domestic affairs with her busy husband. After seeing him off, she sits down for breakfast and a much needed hot cup of coffee.
It's 10 o'clock. The laundry is out drying. She checks herself in the mirror and gets ready to leave for "work".
"What had I been doing till now?"
Her students wonder how she can be so awake after a 2 hour long lecture. She gives them a break and checks her phone for messages. It's flooded, as usual, with good morning messages, videos, spam. She looks for anything important. The teacher has sent a message - half day for kids tomorrow. Great. Time to get back to class. Her students wonder why she's after them like a maniac...
"How can they not finding this interesting? How can they not be curious?"
Lunchtime is chaos again. Her son doesn't want to eat as he just finished his tiffin in the school bus. She quietly eats, wanting to lie down and rest her complaining back. There's no rest for the wicked, she thinks as the doorbell rings. As she drives her son to his co-curricular class, half asleep, she scolds him for his lack of manners, his carelessness, his test marks....
"If what we say to our kids becomes their inner voice, then why do I have to repeat myself so many times!"
Grocery shopping - done. Evening study - done. Kid's milk and snack - done. Dinner planning - done. She looks at the watch, there is still time. She puts on her running shoes and picks up her earphones. Her husband is already out at the gym. She locks the door and breathes a sigh of relief. Me time.
She walks as fast as her tired feet let her, musing blaring in her ears, blocking out the chaos, the complaints, the disapproval, the missed deadlines, the sarcastic comments, the forever lasting issues, the worries.....
Dinner is done. She is all but falling over herself. Covered in sweat, she hadn't found the time to take a bath earlier, and now she has no energy. Bleary eyed, she counts all the things that still need to be done. Shouting at the kid to get ready for bed, she wonders if he needs his ears to be cleaned by a doctor. Suddenly, her son remembers a test that he was supposed to prepare for and very conveniently forgot about. After giving him an earful, again, she tells him to sleep.
"How can anyone forget something that they are told 100000 times a day, everyday?"
"When was the last time I put this kid to bed peacefully?"
"Why am I the only one concerned about this?"
"I wish someone could drive a road roller over me right now."
"MY BACK HURTS!"
All is quiet. She checks the doors, puts the milk in the fridge, covers the sleeping progeny with his sheet for the nth time and checks the watch. It's almost tomorrow. She sighs at the list of all that she couldn't get done. She prepares for her classes for the next day, her fingers also working on auto-pilot now. Just before she retires, she looks at the unfinished novel lying at her bedside, her son drooling peacefully and her laptop with a half-written story.
"It's alright, tomorrow is another day!"