The Five-Minute Downside

“Do you live alone?” they ask.
“No. I live on my own. There is a difference,” I say.

The noble reason for living on your own is that you are very independent within. The base motive is that you cannot deal with people switching on the fan when you don’t want it, or spilling food on the dining table. I am hoping there is a third reason, because I cannot delude myself into believing that mine is the noble reason, nor can I accept that it is (only) the base one.

Whatever the reason, the outcome is pretty good. On the whole, it’s a great way to live this part of my life.

But no deal comes without a flipside. And the independent life deal comes with a five-minute flipside for me.

Whenever I get home - whether it is from work or from meeting friends, whether it is at four in the evening or at ten, my heart sinks as I unlock the door and enter my empty house. In one smooth mechanical motion, I put the lock in its right pace, switch on the light, fling my bag to the chair, kick off my sandals, and switch on the music system. And since I have been listening to Raincoat for a month now, the music system greets me in Shubha Mudgal’s voice:

Shaam dhale sakhiyan sab laut gayin saari
Akele hum nadiya kinare

Of course I could switch to the Pink Pussycat (it’ll take me my whole life to get over this album name) mix on radio, but I prefer not to.

Maajhi tora naam to bata
Phir kaise pukarein tujhe kaise pukarein
Akele hum nadiya kinare

For these five minutes I am lonely, not solitary.