In the depths of my chest. Right in the middle. As if there’s a gap or an opening on my sternum.
A throbbing pain.
One of longing.
There’s nothing different. Or depressing about today.
It was by all counts a great day. If you’re a consultant. Or in need of an ego boost.
My first client who’s relationship was heading southwards in my absence had requested I be in all the meetings. It was a plea. As if only I could ‘right’ things.
My second client whom I’ve become by now a semi-permanent staff cleared a cubicle and bought me packed dinner in anticipation of spending another late night there … they thought 17 floors apart was too lonely for me in the rather deserted and large PMO room for one. Such hospitality has never been extended to the other consultants crawling the premises.
But there is a void.
And a need for some alone time.
Then suddenly, a-third way around the world he writes me an email of feeling love . fulfilment . joy – even as he waits for the lights to change at the junction filled with 20% of Bangalore’s population!
I had just moments ago clutched my Prada close to my now hurting chest at the notorious Beach Club intersection’s curb, wary of the motorcyclists weaving their way between the stationery cars.
Wary of the increasing numbers of urban migrants with kids and women splaying their bodies in a careless way on the walkways.
And this is in broad daylight.
With the sun right above my head. Dehydrating me as I imagine my tongue licking and savouring the cold fresh OJ from O’Briens on my lips.
I am detesting a whole lot of people at the moment, I suddenly recall as I make it safely to patch of green that separates me from the plush shinny SLKs.
Interestingly the people I am detesting at the moment are males.
Or simply because I have a disproportionate number of male in my life compared to female.
Like him. He’s clueless where the emotions are coming from.
But unlike him, mine is dark.