Another day!

It’s a Monday morning. The time must be close to 7 AM, I am still in bed, conscious enough to know that my alarm clock will beep any minute. I don’t quite need it but can’t take the risk of over sleeping. I am answerable to a boss. I have a natural clock working inside me which wakes me up every morning before the one next to my bed does; A clock that runs on fear of losing my job, a timepiece which keeps reminding me that I have many mouths to feed.

It’s a war, a complete war with me to get out of this bed. My head hurts. I want to go back to sleep. I can’t. I take a shower and dress up into a blue shirt and black pants. I wear these more frequently than a school going kid wears his uniform. I told my colleagues I like this combination very much. Frankly, I don’t have a choice.

I go to the table for a cup of tea. My wife has it all set for me. She is a darling. I greet her, and we have our early morning chit chat. I am informed about a dinner we are invited over courtesy my in laws. She tells me that her cousin’s marriage is coming up and she will have to get herself new dresses made for every occasion. I try to convince her that this month shall be difficult. She shuts me up by telling me that this pretext isn’t a rarity. I could sell myself for her but then Ali, our son has gotten into a senior grade and I need to get him his course books. These English medium schools have become so expensive. They teach books from oxford university press. Eight of these equal half my salary.

My 1972 beetle is my most priced possession. How I always love her so much while wishing it could ever be replaced by one of these flashy looking prosmatics. Every time I think like this, I repeat to myself an advertisement that said, “If you can’t afford it, don’t look at it.” I am in the process of reversing my voluptuous queen. The amount of effort it takes to press the clutch reminds me of the long due service it requires.

I head to the office. On my way, I stop on a red light at a crossing in Gulberg. Parallel to my yellow foxy, a pearl white corolla awaits the traffic signal to go green. Somebody waves me from inside. It’s Omar. He is a colleague of mine; actually a junior. His father is a retired D.I.G. He knows many bankers. I am sure Omar will be my senior one day. He is one of those few subordinates in my office whom everybody respects. They come from privileged families and on cars, which are often the size of a bedroom. The traffic light goes green. I struggle with my clutch again. I notice, Omar is leading the way. His car’s trunk has stickers that say “Toyota Corolla SE Saloon Automatic.”

I get to the office. My boss isn’t in a good mood. He got an early morning dose from his boss. He gives me piles of files. “I need it done today!” he says. I get down to it almost immediately. Hours go by. I am struggling. Its lunch time and my coworkers are planning to go out to the newly opened restaurant on M.M Alam road. I am asked if I would like to join. I politely refuse. I have such a genuine reason to put forth today. I always do. But this time, thanks to my boss. For once, I love him for doing this to me. I can’t tell people my wallet has a five hundred note that has often come out, but gone in again on a second thought.

I am hungry. I make sure everyone around my cabin has left. I open up my bag. I have a sandwich inside. I told you my wife is a darling. She is so good with food. I eat it as if I have been starved for weeks. It hardly fills me up but I never tell her that.

I am back to work. I get a telephone call. The voice seems familiar. It’s my father in law. He is reminding me of the dinner my wife talked about. I feel so important. It’s such a boost to my ego. I love my in laws.

I am lost in work. Six, Seven and now Eight PM but this damn thing isn’t close to finishing. My salary is due is 2 days. I can’t make my boss unhappy. My wife awaits me for the perpetually reminded dinner. I am in such a panic. What would my in laws think of me? How do I explain this to them? Would they even be ready to listen? Why is life so difficult? My work pace got slower. I am tense.

Nine PM! My wife calls. She is so mad at me. “You are such an insult to me,” she says without realizing how hard her words hit me. “Can you ever be sensitive to my needs?” she asks. But wait, what am I sitting here in office for? To earn… no? To feed my wife and children huh? She moans, groans, screams and hangs up on my face.

Its 11 PM. I am done. I pack up. My foxy is shrouded with dirty leaves from the tree it has been parked under. I clear the screen. My mind is numb yet filled with numerous thoughts. My tummy growls but I don’t feel hungry. I am cold. I get into the car and start driving home. I am glad I finished my work but I don’t feel too good about myself. I have accomplished my task for the day yet I feel so unfulfilled. I stop at the traffic signal like I did this morning. The only difference, I am too engulfed in my thoughts to notice the several Omars around me. I hear cars honking. The signal has turned green. I need to push the accelerator. Why am I thinking so much? I need to get home. Quick! Because tomorrow is not a special day for me; it’s just ANOTHER DAY!

The writer maybe contacted at smlh@mta.ca