Drifting In

I am back in the real world. Or is this the simulated fabric that envelops me, and is what I just returned from the real world? Out there on its own, not needing me, nor reaching out to me till I reach out to it?

I am back in this life, my life. It has taken me in again rather gently, I have to admit. A day and two nights to soften the blow of being back in office, yes. But the 'rude shock' has lasted a few days now. In Delhi, the traffic and the noise and the honking and the people were a jarring difference from where I had been. My mind largely zoned through my day in Delhi, smiling and talking my way through. The flight was neutral, like many flights turn out to be. Especially return flights. They are a non-space, neither here nor there- literally, and in the head. Neutral territories with movies and books and warm foil-covered food. Saturday evening was all silent and alone at home. I unpacked promptly and quickly (surprisingly). I vegetated. I can't seem to remember what I watched on TV though...

Sunday was more a 'real' day. D returned, filling the day with smiles. Then later, in the evening I was taken aback at how much of a jolt it was to step out of the house. The faces on the road seemed harsh and too many. I averted my eyes. The mall, its lights and stores and glitz seemed alien and unwelcoming. I picked up the shopping basket with a sigh. When I lifted a milk carton off the shelf, my shoulders sagged and I closed my eyes for a moment, the full import of reality and life bearing down on me.

Now I am at work. I am not spaced out, but I am drifting in a clear but viscous mass of normalcy.

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