The artist at work and meandering thoughts

We have this new artist at work. And he looks like one. Grey kurtas, long hair, a salt and pepper beard and a cloth bag. He also looks rather old-ish. When my dad hired him, I was surprised but later grew quite impressed with his work. His layouts are refreshing and he’s been helping me come up with some portfolios.

In my head, I registered him as ‘ the artist’. I never even wondered what his name was till my mom mentioned it. I realized that he had an identity beyond ‘the artist’.

Today, I asked him where he lived and whether he has children. I think he looks much older than his actual age because his kids are only in high school and middle school. His wife stays at home and they don’t even have a two-wheeler. He says he cannot drive one.

He takes a bus everyday from Guindy, a good 8 kilometers from where our workplace is. I can only imagine how horrible it would be once the ‘kathri veyil’ (peak summer season) starts in Chennai. My apartment may be 14 kilometers away but I have the luxury of a chauffeur-driven, air-conditioned car. And, to think of how I crib about it. Sometimes I feel like a horrible person.

He is so talented, probably in the end of his career, yet making half the money I do with two kids to support through college. I’m not making a big deal about this guy, I know there are lots of people who make less money  and take buses to work. However, there’s something about him that makes me very sad.

Today, I slammed the phone down on my mother because she sent my lunch late to work. I don’t know why I end up giving into such shallow and weak moments like this. I’ve been married for almost a year now and  have not made lunch even once for myself or my husband. Food is sent from home everyday; RD lives with the listless food at his work canteen; never wanting to trouble me by asking me to help out with lunch.

And, yet I find reasons to complain. About the food, the work, the travel and everything that does not suit me that second.

Sometimes there are things about me that make me very sad.

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