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



That one word to end the meanings of all words; words that do not stand a chance in front of the façade this one word entails. Every truth, all ingenuity, all graciousness is useless when faced with the intricate web of all the shiny mendacities this word so effortlessly weaves.

Such is the cruelty of this one word. Such is the power of it upon the lives of people all around us. Such is its significance for us. Ingenuity is a lost attribute now— or as far as I can perceive (and my perception is just that; perception). It is gone, buried and done away with. No one wants anything to do with it anymore. Why bother listening to the heart when I can follow the herd. Why bother being who I am when I can be someone else. Why be myself when I can be a third rate replica of someone more prosperous/beautiful/thinner/popular out there.

This world has traditionally been easier on the normal (read: ordinary) than the different. Because being different is often tantamount to being a failure; and failure is looked down upon. Failure is a thing to be avoided at all costs. It tends to have the worst of all meanings and it doesn’t matter if you think contrarily. Your opinion simply doesn’t matter. Period. Failures shouldn’t have opinions, because how can they? If the world doesn’t recognize me, how sacrilegious it is of me to acknowledge myself! How dare I think more of myself than what ‘they’ think of me!

I find myself surrounded by pretense. Those who effortlessly adapt to this philosophy, find that they’re better off in this world. Though whether or not it’s happiness that they experience or merely the satisfaction of conformity, I can’t say.

Eventually I will succumb to the pressures of conformity as well.
It is inevitable.
The pressures are too forceful. It is very persuasive. It has survived for centuries.
Or maybe I won’t and hence will just get old… very cranky and very unhappy.
It is all just a matter of time.
But time has never really been on my side.
And I walk alone.

Books from another time


I saw these books sitting on my desk yesterday in quite the same fashion as you can observe in this photo here. You see, a good part of my early twenties was consumed by books on Accountancy and those written by John Grisham — Sidney Sheldon and Danielle Steel being my other two primary interests. I guess kids just happened to be blissfully uncomplicated a decade back or so. Time however, is a curious thing. It tends to do incredible things to us and its paradox remains immeasurable. Things considered absolutely indispensable at some point in time, turn into history at some other; whereas those considered useless, end up becoming the most cherished. However anything we go through, either good or bad, anything that was once a part of us, adds to the life experience and hence, plays its part in shaping our overall personality. Sadly, it is only by looking back that we realize what we left behind and how it influenced us.

I eventually grew out of the accountancy profession AND Mr. Grisham’s literary works, both, with the passage of time. But seeing these two books today somehow evoked all those memories in my mind. Memories of another time, of a carefree youth, of dreams; God, so many dreams! So many ridiculous, almost laughable dreams. It is such an annoyance, this memory business. More often than not you are cursed to live with the image of yourself from a time you can never possibly go back to.

But to me the most ironic part of it all is the nagging possibility that this image could perhaps be the only YOU, you’d ever be able to truly revere.



In the Summer Time

Yes, you’re right, the blog does look different. I change my blog theme so much, I have actually lost track of the exact number of times. But I think this one was a little overdue and well, i just wanted it really bad this time, for quite a lot of unimportant reasons.

So well, a week has passed since I last posted eh?! And a lot has happened since then. Summer vacations have begun for one, entertaining me in every possible way that one can imagine. (Not). And to think of the fact that I was counting days for the summer break to commence! It is absolutely funny how human beings want one thing, on the accomplishment of which, they immediately start wishing for its exact opposite; never satisfied, always impatient.

Now that I am at home more often than not and can start working on the various projects that I have been meaning to for the longest time, I have somehow forgotten how to even begin!

When they can’t have fun in the sun, they have fun indoors. And what fun!

I have come to realise that there is always an excuse and always that little something that stands in your way; especially if you’re working from home or even thinking about embarking on this seemingly exciting venture. Exactly what’s happening with me right now (Read: What has ‘always’ been happening with me). And it is such a toughie, I tell you, such an ultimate toughie. Sigh.

But I do believe that I will eventually get over this current problem of mine and that these little excuses will somehow vanish all of a sudden, preferably on their own. Quite specifically this heat problem. The heat in this city is increasingly turning into a bitch, and a noticeably mean one at that. So don’t blame me if I can’t work, blame the bloody heat.

Gah! I am in love with this theme; for the moment at least. I trust this shall stay with me for some time. Oh and I remember that a post on parking my car in a junkyard is in order, with pictures of course:)

Soon. Very soon!