A Dead Banana
There still remains a lot to be written about our lovely month in Goa, but now we have already been back home in Visakhapatnam for a few days. Initially I was somewhat dreading the return, as I had left a banana on an open shelf, my mind preoccupied with listing everything I might have forgotten to take with me. I thought I might have to fight off rodents and mouldy vegetation to even get through the door.
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that to travel is to live. I mean to really live. So a perpetual vacation, endless globetrotting, that is the dream. Right? Missing home, all the oh-so-familiar, dustiest corners of it and the mundane chores is unimaginable. Now who would want that? Aren’t we all striving for a life of leisure and constant excitement? Thus even the idea of such dullness must be stressful, dreadful. We all want to just live, love and laugh with every breath we take. And that is just the thing you do on a vacation. It’s perpetual late mornings and even later nights, all the fish curries and prawns and ice cream you can eat, pina coladas and more pina coladas, sunshine, hot beach sand and clear turquoise ocean. It’s never having to bear the responsibility of cleaning up or cooking your own food or anything as outrageously demanding. Leaving all the fun and freedom, our dreamy langour of a vacation behind in Goa felt utterly like a dead banana.
They always tell you to leave your house in a state that will make coming back that much easier. Empty the fridge, change the bedsheets, clean up the mess after packing. To get a soft landing back to the harsh reality of the everyday life, minimize all the anxiety that comes with it. At home there is no one to call up to get your house cleaned and the dustbin emptied whenever needed. You can’t just walk down to your favourite restaurant every night to order all the yummiest dishes from the menu for a nice, candle-lit dinner. The daily schedule on the fridge won’t disappear anywhere no matter how much you try to ignore it by dreaming of all the sunbathing on your private balcony or the endless beaches in Goa. I mean, to be completely honest you can. It’s not like there aren’t any nice restaurants and maids in Vizag too (though if you know of a hippie, vegan-style cafe or a punctual, pedantic maid, I’m all ears and eyes!). And beach please! But unlike on vacation, where all the normalcy of life is out of the sight, you can’t avoid the responsibilities and healthier everyday choices for too long. Before long the dead banana will reek a rotten anxiety so strong you can’t escape it.
As I opened the door to our house, the air stood still and heavy in the room, the stench overwhelming my senses. Everything was just as I had left it, after a month dusty and stuffy. The first thing I did was to run around getting all the windows and doors open to let the light and fresh air in. I love our life and home in Vizag. Though entirely challenging for me, I love the routine and structure. These things help me in achieving productivity and a sense of worth in my days, but this endless traveling leaves me completely lacking any of it. It’s the eighth week of 2018 and I’ve been on the road five of them. As much as I have been trying to maintain a grip on that routine, making up daily schedules for myself even in Nepal and Goa too, I find myself struggling with the constant changes. I never have enough time to just breathe in and out and give myself those couple of weeks that I need to get back into that working mode and establish a plan for my goals. I just keep spinning in this constant loop of vacation and the anxiety I feel when the real world closes in. I don’t want to keep traveling and wandering perpetually, no matter how much it seems as if I’m living the dream to other people. I just really want to stay at home and find this magical thing called balance.
So all in all, I was happy to get back home. It was all the excitement and adrenaline rush I needed to get going. I scrubbed the fridge all clean and shiny and filled it with bagfuls of fresh groceries. I dusted and wiped all the surfaces and got rid of all the cobwebs. I washed every inch of the bathroom and scrubbed the sinks until they were bright white again. I washed all the laundry from Goa and mopped the floors. And lastly I threw the banana, completely black and mummified by now, but untouched by any rodents or other scary creatures, in the dustbin. The dead banana was just a dead banana.
