distance

in a parallel universe, this is a very busy week at work. i'm going crazy tryng to concentrate on a rigorous town planning exercise which requires a GIS map, a several excel tables, and a calculator at the same time. I'm trying to rapidly churning out site assessment after site assessment, while my harried boss is trying to get my attention for one second to fix something he thinks no one else can do. I'm nervous about facilitating a 'fous group' (workshop, talkshop) with 14 year olds, who will most certainly eat me alive when i ask them silly questions about the bus they take to school. I'm frustrated with the admin staff who can't be bothered to help me navigate the UK rail booking system.

In another parallel dimension, the rubber bumps and troughs are a bit different. Here I'm celebrating an intelectual collaboration over a quiet drink, settling into a comfortable lean on a couch in a characterful pub in angel. the undercurrents mount while admiring a spiral staircase, and in a moment of coming in close to speak into my ear over the din, something slips and a vast set of relationships change. in this dimension, you must understand, there are undercurrents.

A third unverse, where I live 5 minutes from my parents, and 10 minutes from my grandmother. we all live near each other basically. when my dad writes a report, i go over to edit it while my mum cooks her speciality chicken thing on work breaks. mum never stops working, she brings it home. when my grandfather finds a new article about GM foods, he rings me, and i put off going over until tomorrow, but not until next year. and tomorrow when i go to his flat full of old newspaper cuttings, my grandmother grabs me and makes me try on something she is knitting for my cousin. i am resigned to this, and only a little rueful that i am loved least best in this particualr household, and it's ok because with my mum and dad i am the uncontested victor. silenty victorious, i sit down and make my grandmother explain what religious treatise she has been perusing this week. In this universe, i have patience, and wisdom, and clear mindedness about my path and goals in life. i probably don't have a moody river, or a favourite walk, or a melancholic thrill now and again, and any white boys at all, but i have those other things.

distance gves you perspective. there could be many paths. maybe everything is written, maybe we write it, i can't tell.

in the current universe, the one in which i am typing away on blogger at 2 am in delhi, with my parents complaining about the laptop light; the universe in whih my parents are also house guests in the home of my just deceased grandmother, people are trying to pick at the threads of circumstances that led us here. why did she die, my grandfather wants to know. if i'd given her the other medicine, she would've been here still. why did i fight with her so, my youngest aunt sobbed. part of her sorrow is a sham, my mum believes. why can't i control everything my husband and daughter do, my mum wonders. if i did, i could fix everything; things would make sense again. why can't i please my wife and family, my dad wonders. it's chronic.

we have to deal with things i think. my grandmother's gone. my mum and dad are imperfect and very vulnerable. i am alone, and the boy who makes my heart skip a beat when he spouts Kipling (i had no idea he's into poetry!) doesn't love me and never will. if i continue to slack off on work i will lose it, and with it, a large part of my individuality. i will be jobless, and absolutely inome-less, armed only with a piece of paper with an immigration office letterhead, in an ever shrinking job market.

i must deal, dear reader. because, dear reader, blogging doesn't pay the bills.