Alone, Happy

I walked through the walk-way of the path. It was my fifth round. Each round took around twelve minutes to complete. I would start with walking. Once the body had heated up enough, and I could feel the blood flowing a bit more through my capillaries, I would slowly start a jog. It was Delhi. It was winter. And, I was alone. I had decided to take up a permanent job when it was finally offered to me - after I turned forty, i.e. It was a "low level" position compared to my age and my experience. But, a position, neverthless. I had a chequered career graph. And, it was a story of career mixing up with intimacies gone awry, of broken dreams and hearts - and, it was a particular story women giving up careers to be tethered to men they loved (or, thought they did, at least). After so many years, I had almost nothing - my relationship was shaky, my career had just restarted. But, that day, in the park, on a Delhi winter afternoon, I had my own steps and my breath to count. After the fifth round, I would sit on the benches strewn around in the park, sweating. It would already be sunny because in winter, you use the afternoons to jog. The small knot of old women friends, many of them migrants from UP and Haryana villages nearby, would all be scattered around in small circles. The golden-winter sunlight bathing all of us in an extra-beauty. I remember I was happy. I had just found out I can be happy, alone.