original post date on blogspot : 11/02/2016
The morning to him appeared the same. Wearing the same outfit, carrying the same smile, watching the same frown on his mothers face because of waking up late- yet again. Watching the same gloated face on the mirror with the toothpaste foam peeking through his lips, which made him feel guilty for having to hide its eventually turning black color. Running his finger through the rim of the tea cup that his mom left him with about an hour ago he sits by in the corridor waiting for the clock to to remind him of beginning yet another day in the year that was in no hurry to pass by. An hour more later , he was out on the streets.
The bag he was carrying around was old, filled with scratches and missing stitches but he perhaps the only piece of fabric that he was fond of wearing along his shoulders and it is not because he was fond of studying or going to college, in short i do not wish to write about it in the very beginning. He made his way through the bustling streets on the heavily crowded , ever the same, crossing. He tried to think as to how writers would find inspiration hidden in the crowd or how generous it was of the sun to shed its light every morning. Because to him, the former was just a huge bag of sweat and litter and the second was, well, just yellow and warm! Yet again he decided to walk to college as obviously the buses declined him a pave to stand and complete his journey through three blocks.College, well it was no different, being late and cajoled by the profs, the ever so same lecture of having no hope in life, “what is life to this man?”, he used to think, just a degree which earned him the eligibility to make his days miserable. The same game of TT in the common room, what began with hours came down to a game a day, he was losing his streak and thus his place as a good competition. Afternoon came and went drawing him out of his comfort with comfort.Evening saw him with a bit of travelling, the best part of the day was yet to come, his girl, his heart would be waiting for him in a distant street, the part of the day that made him wish to live the next. He got down, spent the only hours of the day he felt worth spending on shared phuchkas, shared seats on public transport, shared walks and most of a shared life. Returning home, he loathed every bit of it, complaints of being seen holding “someones hand” out on the streets, no putting in effort to study, lowering indices of report card, pesky relatives, wasting away time on friends and sleep and doing nothing but diving into glowing screens till late night. He was having the worst year ever, oh how he wished it ended, he would change so many things the next one on! He had got it all sorted but he needed the frame to close, the year to pass by and he would have everything, every damn thing in control.
And his wish was heard!
It started with tests of mind and heart, things started shaking as if they had all been hit by an earthquake, time started flying by, education demanded his attention and so did society and the scales got heavier on both sides. This was his closing year of his college life and he had just realized he need to know a lot more to pass the exams this time, he started spending long hours at the institute and getting late for other arms in his body. And now it started aching. The world spinned around him like a merry go round going in the speed of 80 miles and he could do nothing to stop it, days and nights started passing by as the shadow of a bird on a stone chip, no one even knew of it passing by and it was not long later, that, he lost all grip. Where he went wrong ? The fast passage of time did not bother him, the pace of passage did. He diverted and diverted far, and not long later did he manage to put a scratch on his “share” of life, a call, a call created a difference and he was so engrossed in his sudden business that difference soon turned to anger and anger to deviation and deviation to distance. The hands on the ceiling of sistine in his life shifted further and further away and he did nothing but enlarge the painting in size until a time, tears rolled and stopped and so did the beats of half his life. He got a call and flew out, to a different land , made in zeal but shattered in dreams. A new dawn started in his life just as quickly as the dusk of the past went by ,but this time it stopped to take a breath and he suddenly realized that even though the dawn was new but there was not a drop of dew on the new leaf that had grown out of the bud of the new year, he once so wished for to come. He sat their on the ledge looking at the new sunrise and dreading it for being this different, a new land, a new path to walk down, a new crowd and also a brand new pain, a pain of being incomplete, a pain from running to fast, and pain from missing out on time, tide and a few ounces of teardrops. He knew that this day held promises , but what it did not hold were the promises he had broken. He had a life now, a new one, one that he desired but it missed one thing, his dreams. He no longer dreamt of a new year to come, he had nightmare from the one in the past. He wakes up now, looks up to the sky and looks on to the road and now he knows. The sun though the same emits a different ray every day, a ray that sometimes relates to hope, sometimes to truth, sometimes to peace , sometimes to warmth, whatever it may be, the time you take to look up and decide om which ray to put your hand on , that’s how you know that every morning in a year is different, every morning is unique and that once gone it never comes back. The crowd is a symbol of ones uniqueness to be his own among a collection of his likes, an inspiration to stand out and also a cohort to look for the right person to wrap his arm around. Now the poets don’t seem that stupid to him. He has learnt to pass his day, pray through it and since the time passed in no longer his apologise to himself hoping vainly that his life might hear once, he knows its a hard deal, but he does it anyway. His year now is filled with hope, promises and prayers instead of frowns, anger and
discordances. He still carries the bag, still filled with scratches and more stitches have opened up but now its filled with memories and less the pride.
He still makes a wish every night, ” how i wished last year had never passed! ”
Well, lets just said, you are granted on one wish in life make sure you put your heart in the right one.
Hopes for losing on an aching heart (and not cheers for this one)
So dare not wish for time to fly by, cause one can never keep up.