Of weary dreams and worn out passions

Of weary dreams and worn out passions

Life, when left unbridled becomes a chore unloved. One needs to keep revisiting one’s past in order to make sense of one’s present and aspire for future. The problem that I face continuously is to strike a balance between admiration of what’s gone and desire to bring it back. To be able to do it all over again. I am losing it, time is running out, I am getting old with each passing day and that scares the shit out of me.

I have made some lousy decisions in life. I started this blog ten years ago when blogging was still in it its infancy but was never regular. My younger daughter had just been born when I started this journey that I thought I’d nurture and take to new heights….. Now my son is the same age and ten years have gone by in between.

Whatever I am doing in life now does not even come close to what I thought I would achieve in these ten years. It is nothing as compared to what I could do. And it mocks all the dreams I dreamt for myself while staring out of that window in my living room. 

I was going to be a great writer. My pieces were to get published in literary magazines. I was going to master the art of writing.

And yet, ten years passed and I am still here. Still at the cross roads, never launched. What happened? Where did time—that culprit— vanish? Why did I waste it so willingly? 

These are the questions I may never find answers to, yet the only questions I’d want answered.

In a systematic manner, I brought this on myself. Yes, I do realise my mistake. I thought I had time; that I could do it tomorrow. Little did I know, then, that that perfect tomorrow would never come. 

If I really wanted to do something, I should’ve started right when it came to mind. When I had decided that I was going to be a writer. I did have the time, I do have time even now, but a sad, unproductive decade lies between the dreams when they were first dreamt and now that they have to be woken up again. 

These dreams are now frail, unsure of their strength of ever coming true. They are still there, yes, very much alive, but they’ve grown old, tired and weary. They’ve got unsure of themselves. And it is quite the task now to start from where I left.

Time will not wait for anyone, as clichéd as it may sound. This is one reality that I am aware of but have failed to understand in its entirety, no matter how much I tried. I live day in and day out thinking I’d do it tomorrow. I’d write that blog post tomorrow, I’d update that Instagram account tomorrow. I’d just sleep in today and then tomorrow will be a brand new day.

One just doesn’t realise the absurdity of time until it’s too late. And yes, age sneaks up on you when you’re least expecting it. It has this weird way of catching you off guard. And you just do not understand what really happened. 

There’s no way of understanding, you just realise one fine day that you’re getting old, and that the time to act is now. Or you’ve lost it forever.

But I do realise that I do not want to imagine myself writing another blog post like this in another ten years. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that I did my best. And that is all one can do. Everything else is just life as it  happens… but you should be able to die with the knowledge that you did do your best.

So here I am, trying to wake up the dreams that were never realised, to muster up the little strength that’s still left, to reignite the passion that is now tired, and to believe in the power of love again.


Featured Image courtesy: HERB


Morning lark? Hmm, not so much


I have never been a morning person; I sort of loathe all those morning people and yet all my life, I have strived to be one of them. Long time ago, when life was normal, I was still a dreamer and most of the dreams in life seemed quite attainable; I liked to believe in a thing called determination. Of course, a number of years and a lot of terrible setbacks later, I came to realise that it’s sadly, not so. For let’s be brutally frank about it, all the idealism associated with the early hours seems quite relevant while setting the alarm for 5 in the morning. But is bound to evaporate the moment it actually goes off.

Countless of times have I tried to achieve this, apparently unattainable, dream of mine only to have failed every single time. Whenever people tell me of the ease with which they can just drag themselves out of the bed at the crack of dawn, feeling all fresh and radiant, I cannot help but envy them. The world seems so full of possibilities in the morning and it’s so not fair that some of us are forever deprived of availing the benefits.

So yes, yours truly is a night owl; or was, until some time back at least— but unfortunately, life does like to take unexpected turns once you enter your 30’s and as much as we’d like to shake it off as a myth, it does have some truth to it. Though it is usually not before you approach your mid 30’s, that it hits you head-on; the fact that things are not quite the way they used to be just a couple of years back. It’s such a queer time; retarded actually, if you ask me. Quite like the teenage years; minus the abnormal anger, of course.

I am again diverting from the subject; aren’t I?! Damn. So irritating, this habit is. So, where were we? Yeah, on the subject of how terrible my attempts at being a morning lark have been! And it’s even worse now. Since I can’t manage to stay up past 12 and can’t make myself get up before 8 without feeling groggy. Lose-lose situation, I tell you. Feels like school all over again. Sigh.

Well, life goes on and man is a stubborn creature. I shall try to wake up earlier than usual. I will fail again and I will think it cannot work ever— only to try my luck at it again.

The vicious cycles that life likes to engage us in— the ultimate beauty of being alive, not to mention, the ultimate proof of human idiocy….. But that’s another story all together.