In the cacophony of frustrated honking and the almost-bruising-with-each-other cars, buses, and rickshaws on the highway, she made her way with some difficulty and some luck, though not in equal measure. At the end of the journey there was little left. All energy was spent in negotiating the variables that are relentlessly constant, each weekday. There was little joy in the destination. She could pinch a fleck of joy if she managed to arrive a few minutes earlier than yesterday. It wasn’t so, today. It had taken her fifteen minutes more than usual, and without asking for the change from the taxi-driver, she headed home. The crowd-space yin-yang came into being. The seeking and repulsion of the space and crowd, and the seeking and repulsion of the crowd and space, at once became her.
She tried to shake off the feeling, like she did most of the days. She couldn’t shrug it off – it was in her head, she knew that. I should move a magnet around my head and disorient the seeking and the repulsion, she thought. They’ll get confused and run away. Of course, a physical magnet wasn’t going to do the trick. She considered reversing the polarities. She’d seek what she repulsed and repel what she sought. The idea seemed smart as it hit her, but then she decided against it. Yin-yang would only become Yang-yin. It would work only momentarily and she’d be right back where she started. This churning machine had to be stopped.
Like how they show in the movies: a big machine stutters and sputters to halt into dead silence. She had to find the “off-switch”.
She opened the door of her apartment and switched on the lights.