Being positive

A few days ago, it dawned on me that I had developed a tendency to indulge in an overdose of self-pity. Sure, my life for the last two years has not been going quite the way I had planned it. Also, living away from your family comes with its own share of hardships. Yet, things are not all that bad. The whether is lovely – I like the rains. I am constantly applauded at work. I am loved and respected. So, I told myself, “Pooja! stop fantasizing that you have reason for immense sorrow… things are just fine…” I decided to believe once again, that life is what you make of it. Well, of late, I had begun to succumb to believing that no matter how hard you try, life just takes the course it wishes to. But this last month I started afresh. I don’t know what caused it. But, it just happened. So, you are now reading the blog of a new Pooja who knows to be positive.

It’s often very funny. This morning for instance, I stepped out for work during a steady drizzle. Not exactly good news for my ballerina shoes and my beige trousers. Yet, I smiled. It’s a beautiful drizzle! The soft sound of the droplets falling on my umbrella filled me with an indescribable joy. Every time I saw a vehicle coming my way I would prance about to avoid the puddles from splashing on me. Once I was in my train, I just had to enjoy the delicious cool breeze and watch the raindrops against the vast backdrop of the city. I felt happy that I lived in Bandra and don’t have to endure crowded trains anymore. I marveled at how I have started counting my blessings. It was a wonderful feeling.

I reached Lower Parel station from where I take a short cut to my office. It’s a 15 minute walk through a partly tiled, partly muddy lane. I opened my umbrella with a smile and said to myself “think positive”. The first thing my eyes fall on is animal poop on one side of the tiled track, which had been stepped on by some poor soul and had become mushy in the rain. I looked away and tried to erase the picture from my “perfect” rainy morning. I started listening to the droplets once again. I watched the patent leather shine that the rain had rendered on everything – the leaves on the trees, the tiles on the ground etc, which had irregularly formed tiny, transparent pools of water on it. I had to walk through them. My ballerinas got soggy. But I continued to listen to the music the rain-drops created on my umbrella.

Soon I was in office. 5 minutes late. But what the heck! It was a beautiful journey to office.