She wakes up after her husband, makes him his tea and breakfast, waves goodbye when he leaves for work, and makes instant noodles for her lunch.
The moment her tummy's even half full, her eyes begin to close. So it's time for a short nap spanning two hours.
After which she wakes up, makes her second cup of chai for the day, starts writing. There is, as yet, no method to the madness she is writing down, but she persists.
Evening is time for household chores, post seven thirty p.m. Sabzi to be made, rotis to be rolled, sometimes a glass of buttermilk to set aside for him. Then she oils her hair and washes it an hour later.
He never comes home before 11 pm, so she has a lot of time to think and set the house in order. Sometimes she cleans up, other times she thinks.
At times a friend may call, informing her of a job opportunity somewhere. She promises to send her CV and forgets the conversation five seconds later. When she remembers it again, she doesn't send the CV.
All day, she plugs music in her ears to keep out the thoughts. The thoughts don't always go away.
What happens when you have no job, no motivation to look for another one and a bagful of fear of what will be? You get me.