THE STUMBLING FEET IN THE DANCING SHOES

Your Breakfast is cold again, and this is the second time I made tea for you, which remains untouched, grumbled Seema.

- Ankur R. Gupta

Shyam was standing in a small garden, staring aimlessly at the untrimmed bushes of roses at one corner.

Hmmm…did you say something, Seema? He asked vaguely, seeing her sullen face.

Uh…nothing, she says, looking at his lost face. Is everything okay? she asked in concern as she had been noticing him for the last few months, brooding on something.

Oh, ho, I‘m perfectly fine… can’t a man spend some time in peace, he said, with an irked expression.

Fine... carry on with your peacetime, but someone is not as lucky as you. I’ve chores to finish. Seema remarked with a slight sarcasm and went inside the house, wondering why he was getting angry at the drop of a hat these days.

Lucky??? Shyam mumbled, sighing heavily as his wife went away.

I don’t know how to spend my day-to-day time, and you call me lucky. He laughed drily and slumped back on the garden chair.

It’s been almost 12 years since Shyam had retired from his high-profile job. Reeling back in time, he remembers his retirement party. How happy and relaxed he felt.

My chunk of life has gone slogging in work.

Now, I will just chill out and wander the globe with my lovely wife. He heard himself saying to his colleague with champagne in his hand. Everyone cheered for him.

But as time passed by, his wandering pan saturated, and the monotony of routine life with nothing much to do, began to make a denting impact on Shyam's once vibrant personality. Being an introvert, he always struggled to form strong social connections and had no hobbies or interests outside his professional life. Retirement presented him with a void that he didn’t know how to fill.