Reflections of a restless eccentric

Sometime last month, I was going home from my lab late at night. I'd usually make a minute of small talk with whoever was at the security desk while I signed in or out everyday, and this happened that night as well. It was well past midnight, so the guard asked me how I'd go home at this hour. (With the current state of affairs in India, this seems like a reasonable question to ask a woman. Reasonable, but sad.) I reassured him that I stayed close by and that I'd be fine.  His next question took me by surprise. Do you have kids? I replied in the negative. His forehead crinkled, and his expression became gloomy. That's so sad. This is such a big sacrifice you're making to be here. Women always have it tough. He tutted in dismay. When I heard his response, my stream of thoughts went like this: Why is he sad that I don't have a kid? I am perfectly happy not having one. In fact, considering how much I have on my plate currently, I am extremely thankful that I don&#

 With the advent of covid, life as we knew it has seen many changes. One of those is working from home for extended periods of time. As a result of this, many of us never really context switch fully between work and home. A part of our mind is stuck on some work related topic even if we're at home. On one such day, around 1pm, both my husband and I stepped away from work to grab a quick lunch. As is our way, we called out to each other asking if the other person could serve the food, and after a minute of back and forth, I reluctantly decided that it was my turn. I headed into the kitchen and looked around absently. I saw some plates, roti and curry, and dished out portions onto both our plates.  Now for the curd. I rummaged around in the fridge, and my eyes fell onto a bowl of curd with grated carrots and onions. Raita (curd with raw vegetables), I thought, puzzled. I don't remember asking the cook to make this today. Maybe my husband did. Or maybe she decided to surprise us.