As a teenager, I loved going to the cinemas. I used to thoroughly enjoy the experience on those rare occasions that our parents did take us, though the theatres were old, musty, and more often than not, had bedbugs in the torn seats. I would pester my mother to take us whenever an interesting movie was released and her stock reply would be, “Be patient. In a few years time you would be married and your husband would take you to all the movies you want.”
So I patiently waited nearly 10 years for that dream golden period when my husband and I would hop from one theatre to another holding hands, enjoying the movies and then visit a restaurant for dinner.
When I did get married, it turned out that my husband and I lived and worked in different cities for more than a year. Movies? No way. Then the children came three years apart. From holding a fulltime job and changing nappies to sickness, school admissions and homework, where was the time for romantic outings? Besides, my husband suffered from allergic colds and the doctor had advised against going to crowded and poorly ventilated places like movie halls. I wanted to yell at my mother, “You fooled me!”
Another passion of mine was reading. I loved to curl up with a nice book. I had plenty of time to read as a youngster and I made good use of it. Once I started working, the time spent on books got reduced considerably. Then came marriage and the first baby came soon after. When the baby slept, I would pick up a book and right when the interesting bit came, she would wake up and bawl. To my horror, I realised that I was getting quite annoyed with the interruption. That was when I decided to pack up the books and not yield to temptation. I said to myself that there would be plenty of time later. But that time never came. Home and office responsibilities increased. I did read a little in between when we went on vacations but it was never quite the same. Never mind, I told myself. The children would grow up and make a life for themselves in due course. I would then read to my heart’s content. But when that time did come, I needed spectacles. The eyes got tired soon. And now in my late sixties, cataract has developed. There is plenty of time to read, both print and digital, but now it is a strain.
Doctors advised morning or evening walks when I got my medical check-ups. I never did manage to get those walks in my daily itinerary. I just had enough time to cook for the family and rush off to work and when I got back home, it would be past 7 p.m. Then the evening rush to take a wash, cook dinner, help children with their homework or preparation for exams, listen to my mother-in-law’s account of her day, preparation for the next morning’s cooking. Oh! There would be plenty of time for walks once I retire, I convinced myself. I took voluntary retirement at 51 but it didn’t help. The children had grown up and moved on but other responsibilities came up in the form of pet dogs and cats which had grown old too. My mother-in-law had become room bound with advancing age and other orthopaedic issues. I seemed to be spending all my time at home. It was only when I was around 62 that these responsibilities ceased one by one. I could go for morning walks and travel abroad at last. Within a few months, I realised my knee was giving trouble. Arthritis, said the orthopaedic. Continue walking and do exercises, he advised. Walking is no longer so pleasurable. I have to stop and stretch my legs every so often to relieve the pain. Trips to foreign lands which involve plenty of walking are not so alluring anymore.
Which makes me come to the point. Don’t be dumb like me. Organise yourself in such a way that you spare some time for your interests. Don’t wait for a later time. It never comes. There is a beautiful Tamil proverb, “Alai neengi kadal aada mudiyathu”, loosely translated as “you can never bathe in the sea if you wait for the waves to stop”.
r.rema@yahoo.com
