Even as she started applying the last of the formulae to the complex excel sheet that glowed in front of her eyes, a bitter pang of memory gripped her. Reluctantly, and in spite of the pending working that appeared on the screen. Ignoring her colleagues who were similarly sprawled out across the ten chairs that had somehow fitted into that conference room that evening, she made her way towards the pantry area.

 The Air conditioner on the floor had already eaten away whatever feeble attempts at generation of warmth made by her body. Almost clumsily, and as if in a trance, she started across diagonally towards the other side of the room. The Pantry was just another of those AC affected rooms in that office. She filled up a warm mug of tea from the vending machine. One wall of the pantry overlooked the seashore that spread below. She stood by the frosty looking glass, with all its blinds drawn upwards for the evening.

It was gently raining outside! The vapours from the mug seemed to coagulate into a foggy screen on the glass. Droplets moved vertically downwards, on the glass on the outside. Eyes moist, she took off the glasses off her eyes even as a sparkling drop of tear flowed down her cheek. Far away, even beyond the lights that glimmered from the streets and highways of the city seen across the sea, she thought about the one place to live, people to go to.

Although she could not feel the gentle breeze, the swaying coconut palms in the same compound took her back to the world, which she had chosen so earnestly, the three people she truly belonged to (her family) and the one another person who had truly belonged to her. Yes, the past tense stung her. Was she really relishing the prospect of jabbing away fingers at excel sheets, clicking away the mouse at PowerPoint presentations?

What would those people be doing now? Had the evening come as a reminder of the past? The endless arguments she had had with them in the quest of imbibing the importance of her ambitions into their minds, the ruthless determination with which she had left the house with a multitude of dreams to follow and achieve. Was she really happy earning the money she so desired? Was she really going to go back? Would her dreams permit her now? What was the exact figure of money that would trigger her journey back home? What was the exact moment of satisfaction that would take her back to where she belonged? When would that day in the calendar actually rise when she would go the person who had still promised with more of a hope, to wait even after all those years?

Why were such thoughts even entering her head today? Wasn’t she quite content with that little freedom she had acquired? Or was it freedom really? Wasn’t she in effect, bound to those keyboard keys? Was it the same thing she had envisaged or was it something too different to realise now? Or was the freedom just a matter of her perception? Or simply a way of justifying the effort and the decision?

After all, is life everything about freedom, isn’t it? Or is it all about being bound to something or someone you love?

Did she really love what she was bound to? Or was her love something, somewhere else…?

Too many questions….. Very few or no answers at all….

The Sea as usual brought more questions than answers, even today. She knew she had no choice…………..