I like chaos. I prefer random chaos rather than structured order. There are days when I feel assured that there is nothing more unsettling than a nice neat laid out routine that most of us find comforting. Or so I thought.
Routine is the life’s way of saying that it likes certain things in a certain way and in a specific certain order. I choose to challenge that status quo from time to time and there are days when I let the routine take control. All of this brings me to the point in discussion. Maybe it’s not the devil which rests in the details. Maybe there is something else.
There was this week. I got up early everyday that week. I’d rub my eyes furiously. I’d then raid the refrigerator for a tetra pack of flavoured milk. Time would drag between 6 am and 9 am. The necessary, obligatory phone calls would be made in quick succession to get the routine checked. I’d make my mind about hitting the desk and bail out by half past nine.
Instinctively, as I would unlock my car , I’d bob my head up towards the third floor. The balcony’s meshed windows would continue to remain closed. I’d still look and shake my head and make my dash towards the day’s rat race. That was my routine of sorts which I so hypocritically would never bother disputing. My mom would always make it a point to wish me luck and wave me a pleasant bye that would keep me protected and missed through the day. I didn’t miss it much. And then the week came when my folks hit the holiday home. I was left with nobody to wave me that bye from the balcony. I looked at the closed meshed window and smile a silly wistful grin and board the car to make it to work.
That is what routines can do to you. Routines have a way of keeping us warm, fuzzy, comfy and assured.
Today was a pleasant day of sorts. I decided to skip the gym. My dad had to leave early on account of this audit that he was a part of. Since I had skipped my morning routine of gym, I also happened to catch up on an early breakfast. My mom was making small talk while she was serving me food. My dad’s cab driver had arrived and a quick call later, it was time for him to run that rat race of sorts.
My mom and I wished him all the best for the day to come. My dad conveyed his byes and got ready to leave. It was almost like watching a happy kid leaving for his school where he’d get to meet all of his friends and have a day of fun. Yeah. My dad loves any opportunity that keeps him travelling.
“Wait”, My mom suddenly interrupted her small talk. The other auntys in the world, the million other brides to be, my grand father in Coimbatore, the miracles of gods, all the stories were now placed on a perpetual hold. My mom apparently was missing out on something and her sudden realization lead to the current moment of a pause.
She dashed towards the door and saw my dad off.
A minute later she joined me in the kitchen. “I always make it a point to see him off at the door”, my mom sheepishly admitted and grinned her warm lovely smile.
Maybe it’s not the devil that is in the details. It’s the care that goes into making each day a day of mundane routine, but one filled with all the love and care that can possibly exist in this entire wide vast world.
And so once again, as I unlocked my car’s door, I shot a glace towards the third floor. The meshed window of the balcony was thrown wide open. My mom waved her usual smile and her byes to help me kick start the day.
Ah the sweet boring comforts of a routine. We so massively miss it when we are robbed of it. 🙂