Time-Out Tw/oo

Whereas fairy-tales promise happy endings, reality gifts us beginnings, all the time, all the while. Just when you thought things could come to an end, and in fact they actually quite do -- it is yet another beginning, an invite. I met a little girl, couple of years back, when the doors were closed on me. I had to earn better, and to earn better I had to teach, the easiest gateway. An austere gathering with her as the only open window. Chhuti demanded attention with her dignified reticence, and grew up to become an author's favourite metaphor for that one thing yours truly loves most -- holidays. Given the author had to work with things that weren't exactly colourful, and mostly monotonous, Chhuti gave her an address into which twenty one letters have been written to her, by now. I kid you not, yes, twenty one.

We have a tireless author then, who does not get replies, but keeps writing letters. She built a house of hope around holidays in absolute truth and nothing but truth, and yet, one fancies fairy-tales! One fine day, as couple of those Chhuti years passed, the author decided to take a call. No more replies, no more letters she thought. But who was she playing the words with? In the last vacation she got, she realized, she always had Chhuti within her. She needed no time-out to be with Chhuti, she needed no Christmas, or Chicken-Pox either. To have a time-out is like a foreplay, especially when you are in the midst of heaps of ugly work.

Am I spoiling the sanctity of a holiday with words like foreplay? You can leave then. Because I will tell you what it feels like to be in extreme pressure, and people screaming at you, and you zoning out with your attention entirely on the given person. I think of non-linear, irrelevant things at the most -- a delicious dinner, the feel of a linen jacket, the fragrance of fuel and thinking what bad sex the other person must be having to take it out on me. Trust me, that is what my author does. 

To have a time-out is to unbutton, to bring to fore all you ever want to be. Imagine yourself swimming in the sky! Chhuti has been my partner in this venture. Even as I heard the TV, and worked on editing, I would smile at the invisible people around me, some asking for signed copies of my bestseller, chefs asking for my preference, and stylists devouring my under-confidence. Are you thinking who is the author and who am I. I am too. I like penalties, while she informs she loves sixes.

Time-out is a bulging brownie, hot and oozing, and a heavy scoop of vanilla melting it away. Volcanic? You never watched it with enough time. It is, indeed, orgasmic. Like a soothing massage on a bad back, a dreamless sleep, an appetite too large without the overwhelming fear of gaining weight. Lazy mornings with Chhuti, sleepy afternoons and long nights -- you would think we were lovers. Who knows what we are. 

Take a time-out. Befriend Chhuti, in work, in words. See beyond the visible. Bewitchingly, I wish to work. I now know I am not desperate for a holiday. Life is a holiday, check your pockets. You still do not know what I am speaking of? Well, well.

Metaphors are for you to unveil.