Running Away

226. When you had the desire to run.

Last summer I had four and a half months off. Four and a half months away from school. Four and a half months of zero responsibilities. Four and a half months of freedom, which I discovered were actually going to be four and a half months of utter boredom.

I had so much planned, so much in mind, for those months. I was ready to have the best time I ever would. Alas, I was to be disappointed. I was to stay with my father for the entire duration of my break. His house was in the city where all my friends were, but barely. He lived on the outskirts where there was no public transport. I couldn’t ask friends to pick me up because I was too far off. I couldn’t walk because any place I wanted to go was too far off. I was still willing to brave it out but my father refused on account of the neighborhood being too dangerous for a girl to walk alone. I had to give him that as I’d already had a close encounter, even with my brother around. To top it all off my father was never around to take me anywhere and had just fired our driver the week before.

I was still full of hope that I would figure it out and make the best of my time. I thought I could spend the time working on basketball only to discover that there was no court around for miles. I spent my first month indoors, reading book after book. I read anything I could get my hands on. I probably went through more than twenty-five books in that month. My brother had walked out of the same house a month ago – whilst cutting off all communications between him and our father – for many of the same reasons. I too was reaching a point where all I was thinking about was running away. Maybe I could scrounge up the money for a train ticket to Mussoorie and join my mother there.

Finally, I decided against it. I found my rhythm there, made a few friends in the houses around, spent 4-5 hours walking with my music plugged in. Everyday! I figured I had to stay there only for a couple more months anyway. By August, school would start up in Mussoorie, I’d be with mom, and all would be well again. Until then, I should spend as much time with my paternal grandmother, who lived with us, and my dog because I wouldn’t get the chance later on.

I let go of all my miseries, decided to stop complaining, and instead plan the life I was looking forward to. I realized I was privileged to get an opportunity to start afresh and had no right complaining about anything. Running away was not an option.