This morning is a prized one for Mumbai – the rare mist, the rare cold on a winter Saturday.  I sit down with my regular cup of tea and an urge overwhelms me. I want to write something down asap. I fumble through my kid’s rack (for I have none) for a pen and a paper and end up with a blunt pencil and a paper. Sitting in the balcony I start writing… the muse has finally awakened after a long long time. And the mist isn’t going to last for long…

It’s 2010. And I’ve been constantly running after unfinished tasks – finding a better job, finding a house, gathering funds, defining & living up to my aspirations (which also includes writing), manage 2 kids and my wife who’s most helpful by the way – to the extent that she manages me! I gather all these thoughts as I go about writing.

The mist also has effects on the other, above mentioned members of my family. While at writing, my subconscious registers my wife dancing and the first little one, four year old, joining in… singing songs and dancing around the not so large 2 bedroom house in one of the suburbs of Mumbai. Our maid also joins the gang. The second little one, 6 month old, unfortunately cannot join the train-gang but his rather high decibel screams seem to register the general excitement in the air.

I am out in the tiny balcony focussed on my paper and pencil and the frolics in the house are a bit vague to me till I suddenly hear my name… “Pappa is taking us out for a stroll in the garden”.  I  anxiously look  in the direction of the living room… 3 pairs of eyes are looking at me, the 4th pair also  making an effort from his cot. There are expectations in the air…  expectations from a good husband, a good father, a good master and a good driver!

The muse goes back to sleep. The mist clears a bit. They seem to appreciate my other duties. I finish my second cup of tea and change for the occasion.

I have been prodded often by my better half  towards moving to a mountainous region, away from the city. “We’ll open up a hotel, a cottage and live amongst the mountains”. Somehow I have never taken it seriously;  I think am afraid that life will be too simple, too far from everything.

Now while driving I wonder if a hill station will be good for me. Will it constantly awaken my muse? Will I be able to write? Will I be able to love life more?