Afternoon showers and WFH

Taking a shower during a lunch break when working from home has been an unexpectedly cathartic joy during WFH.

Taking a lunch-hour shower when working from home has been an unexpectedly cathartic joy during WFH.

Of course these days are rare. But when the opportunity presents itself – a full afternoon hour with no meetings, when you aren’t drained by the forenoon’s work, and where you manage to have time for lunch too – a bit of Moroccan Rose in the middle of a day’s work is quite nice.
Amidst IDEs and slide decks and to-do post-its pasted on to my desk because they won’t stick to the wall, and a lot more stationery than I would ever use on a work day.

The bath scrub feels like rubbing fragrant sand on my back, yet there is nothing quite like scrubbing fragrant sand on your back as hot water flows seamlessly over it. It bothers me that the running shower doesn’t bother me as much as when water runs in the wash basin or even in a sink.

Lunch-break showers can last utmost 10 minutes. And I’m not just writing that because I’m wary of a colleague or my manager (or a future one) that might be reading this and questioning my work ethic otherwise. But because it’s a Neverland, a newly found one. Nothing quite like knowing you can waltz into your shower any moment and turn the knob to usher a trail of soothing warm water ready to caress you wholly, sending steam all up your bathroom mirror and curtain, washing down your hair and face and body.

I don’t know if one day I’d take an afternoon shower because I’m frustrated or foggy at work, but let’s hope not.

Snapshot from Finding Neverland, 2004.


I’m the stuff of dreams.

A recurring setting from an old memory, brought to the anterior only in sleep. A fantastical land you created to accommodate all that didn’t in the tangible world. As years passed, you brought with you certain others– friends and family from school and college and work. You’d jump across rooftops and meld into rainbows, you’d watch shooting stars flash past as Coldplay played in the background.

You’d come to me in the best of times and the worst of times. And I’d stir up concoctions customized to the cause , swaying the rains and waves while the winds gently chimed. And so on some days, there would be fireworks against starry skies, on others you would walk the meadows while the sun shined.

As a child you’d bring along all the lullabies your parents sang to you, the humming tunes of young days and younger nights that still resonate within.
And then one day, you asked if you’d sing to your own kids someday. I stayed silent, not knowing what to say-

“It can never sound as good anyway”.

I smiled. Time was unkind – not that I hadn’t tried.
They had claimed you after all.

Until we meet again, as you will, under pretext of an adult asleep. I know with a knowing, for I’ve weaved all your dreams.

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