Who Stole The Simple Days?
Today has been one of those days. You know, inspiration = negative 25%. Writing-wise that is. On such days, I levitate (ok I use the ladder) my not-inspired self onto some high place, perch myself comfortably and just stare. Mostly into space. Blade of grass in mouth helps. I therefore make sure I have a decent stash for reflective moments. At this point I should mention, from my perch up high, the view is spectacular. I can even see the river near my house. No really. There is a river! The water doesn’t go past my ankle, but it does flow. Thus, the river proudly answers to the name river.
In my current reflective moment, with eyes roving all over the place, I notice a woman in the river. She is doing her laundry. From the movement on her lips, I can tell she’s singing. Or maybe she’s just having a conversation with herself. Either way, she is completely absorbed in the two tasks. Women are powerful like that. Of course I had to pull the women and multi-tasking cliché on you! Anyhow, so absorbed is she in her singing and laundry she doesn’t notice people steal a glance as they walk on by.
It got me thinking. Was it like this in the old days? You know, pre what we now fondly refer to as ‘civilization’? The days where child rearing was a collective clan initiative? Where meals were made en-mass for an entire homestead? Where no upstanding girl needed worry about getting married because an equally upstanding boy would be selected for her and they would move into a hut nearby, and continue the process of clan enlargement?
Am I dreaming? Were there such days? What problems did they deal with? Other than clan wars and cattle thievery? In times when I can’t make sense of the current happenings around our society, I tend to transport my mind into such instances, and for a quick safe minute, I get to think that things were simpler. Problems easier to deal with. I know what you are thinking and the counter argument you have on your now pursed lips. Go ahead. Hand them to me. I still won’t stop escaping into my head every once in a while, if only to calm my over-active mind, before reality checks in again. And yes, I know I live in this age and I do make the best of it. Still. Escape into my head? Count on it.