For a shortlived moment, I actually thought – I will survive. I will be the lone ranger. I will sit (as suggested) at home with two bottles of wine, four boxes of chocolate and three books. I will go read in a museum. I will dredge out a couple of friends.
Then, I ran out of my office and bought the cheapest ticket I could get to Bombay. Which was not cheap at all. The travel agent actually said: “Um, but ma’am, are you going to pay this much?” That was after the: “Do you mind Air India?”. To both, I rolled my eyes and said: “I don’t have a choice do I?”
And then, the inevitable. V, who has not been a supporter of the pay-exhoribitant-price-be-a-clingy-wife syndrome, was like: “So are you coming to Bangalore?” This is the question that always brings with a wealth of turmoil. To understand why, do the math:
No of days in the year: 365
No of days of leave: 10
No of public holidays: 14
No of public holidays that can be clubbed with leave: 5
No of available days to go to India: 13 (minus travel)
Let’s just say, length of average vist to India: 14 days
Length of visit minus travel: 12 days
No of days spent in Bangalore: 6 days
No of days spent in Bombay: 6 days.
Which means: Out of 365 days, I will see my family, friends and generally people who like and are nice to me for 6 days.
Last year, No of days spent with my family (that is, mother, father, sister, brother in law): 12 days.*
*Changed jobs and so somehow managed two sets of annual leave.
Last year, No of days V spent with family and friends: 24 days.*
*Longer time spent in Bangalore, his parents visited, Australia trip.
Bonus round, this year
Me (including current India trip): 12 days
Why do I feel guilty about spending 6 extra days with my own family? Why am I succumbing into being guilt tripped into dedicating 2 days off my precious 12 to V’s family? Am I a bad wife for thinking that my husband can survive dental surgery without me holding his hand? Gah!