Dilemma

"Boliye bhaisaab, kya chaiye?"

It was only after he heard the shopkeeper, Satya realised that he was standing inside a general store. He rushed back through his thoughts. He had just got down from the auto, paid ₹25. The auto, which he took from outside the railway station. The station, where he got off the local train every day from work. He easily recalled everything. And there was nothing off routine. Isn't this what he did every day? Maybe it was the shopkeeper. But it was the same guy. What was this feeling then? Something had definitely struck something, somewhere, in his mind.

"Kya doon saab?"

"Uhh...ek doodh ka packet dedo."

He paid for the milk and came out of the shop. He looked at his flat on the top floor of the building across the road. Then he looked at others, one by one. His was the only flat with lights off. Even that nosy uncle was home. The uncle was an old retired man who lived below Satya's flat. He always made sure to put his nose thoroughly through others' business, which was ironic for his short nose. It was funny how he managed to keep an eye on everybody and everything. Maybe this is what people do when they retire. Satya wondered what he would do after his own retirement. He wasn't going to be nagging for sure. But what would he even want to do? Wait. That's it.

It was the question the shopkeeper asked him. What did he want! The shopkeeper probably popped the same question to every visitor. But today, he had struck Satya's nerve. And now that he had, Satya would not let it go. He needed to know why it bothered him. So he decided to take a walk around the block. 

Well, he knew what was wrong. His life. Not the life itself, though. Life was no doubt, beautiful. It was the way it turned out for him. Sitting behind the desk, doing the same monotonous job, six days a week. At least alternate Saturdays were off. But it's what he did with those Saturdays, Sundays and other holidays. They were spent mostly by sitting in front of the laptop, watching movies, listening to music, or reading a book. He loved doing this. But still, something was amiss. It always felt like he didn't belong in this job. Everything he knew, he had learnt either from books, television, or internet. His job only taught him to ignore people who didn't matter. 

He wanted to test his limits. Go through rigorous discipline, intriguing circumstances. But then, he also wanted to travel, read, write, act, invent, meet people, inspire and a lot more. He wanted to do everything. He wondered if he would ever find his call. Or is this how he was supposed to live it all, in his mind?     

"Abbe yeda hai kya?"

His reverie was broken by an auto-rickshaw driver cursing a cyclist. Satya had come around the block and was nearing his building. He made a decision. He would now keep a track of his actions. That way, he would be able to differentiate the do's from the don'ts. He was climbing the stairs now. He vowed to remember the tiny details. He opened the door to his flat. He would gradually discard the unimportant stuff. He went to the kitchen to put the milk in the refrigerator. He would get rid of the mundanity by being less repetitive. And there, in the refrigerator, lay another packet of milk he had bought the day before.