This is all I need

Many friends and well wishers are convinced that it is time I took a break! Ranjan has been hounding me about where I would like to go when all this is over. From cruises to holidays in exotic lands, the options he offered were endless and yet all the poor man got from me is a litany of noes! It is not that I do not appreciate his concern but quite honestly there is not a place in the world I want to go to. My elder daughter is wanting me to take a break and go to a spa. I have invites from the world over to take a break. But though I am overwhelmed by the generosity and concern of all those who care for me, the answer remains a whispered no! Wise counsel I guess, in normal circumstances and for 'normal' beings. But not quite for me.

When I look back at my adult life, I realise that the occasions have taken time off alone are close to nil. It is not because of lack of opportunities or resources, it is simply because I feel the best when I am in my home, surrounded by the myriad of things that make me comfortable: my books, my music, the pictures on the wall, my cosy work room and the tiny corner I tuck myself in to write. The list ins endless. It took me a lifetime to set the stage the way I liked it.

As an only child I learnt to create an imaginary world replete with imaginary friends where I could take off for any place in the universe simply by picking a book from the shelf and finding a tiny space to devour it in. I could in the flash a moment become a Navajo girl fighting for her tribe, one of the famous  Five or Secret Seven, or any heroine of the novels I read. Space and Time were in my control and I liked that. It gave me a strange power that was mine alone. And somehow nothing could compare to my way of traveling. And maybe that is why I am dislike any travel that takes me away from my little nook. And though I have travelled more than my share as my parents dragged me to every possible destination from the time I was a child to when when I turned into a moody and rebellious adolescent. By the time papa retired I had had my fill of archeological sites, ruins, wonders of the world and more.

Then came marriage and domestication. It suited me as the children were a good excuse to not having to go places. The idea of packing was always disturbing. I guess this feeling had its roots in the nomadic life I led as a child when every three years or so I was told that we were moving to a new place. Then came the stern instruction from mama that I was to sort out my toys and books and give most away. That was heart wrenching. Leaving friends that had been so painstakingly nurtured was a nightmare, as one had to deal with the fact that one did not 'look' like others. What awaited was  unknown, scary, terrifying as I traced my finger on the globe from Rabat to Saigon, or Saigon to Algiers and then Ankara: a new school, the need to make new friends. Packing was nothing short of daunting. And somehow, even today, the idea of having to pack for a holiday is still terrifying.

So when about 2 decades ago, I could without guilt dig in my roots, I did with alacrity and impunity comparing myself to a banyan tree. I was done with suitcases and overnight bags and for the past 2 decades have not ventured very far away from home. I have my favourite haunts when I need to get out and air the old biddy but they are in a circle of 5km from home.

But I have evolved my ways of taking off. My early morning daily tryst with my computer when all around me is silent, the book I read in the three wheeler each time I need to venture out, my book on my night table that lulls me to sleep and above all my writing.

How do I tell those I love that this is all I need.