Skip to main content

the walrus had a point...

Another day, another birthday..........

Not mine but does that really matter ? Each milestone someone you know passes, it is you who are acutely aware of the sand in the hourglass - each tiny little grain...separating itself from the rest, sliding ever so slowly along the curve of that smooth path, waiting an eternity for some... and then just as surely, dropping down. Another moment gone... and before you know it, so have you.

It's summer here as of now and its officially the holidays. I suppose one indication that we are no longer children in the truest sense of the word is the fact that the summer holidays no longer exist for us. It doesn't for me either; I have the dubious honour of having to take 2 classes in the summer semester.... and well, right when the professor has been talking for more time than you'd care to believe, I think back to the times summer meant being woken up by mum and after a suitable breakfast being politely directed outside the house toward... well... a long, carefree day.

Bike rides on my beloved Hero Ranger cycle, noisy games of cricket with most of the colony kids, sleepy afternoons spent either watching tv or playing any board games that we could get our hands on, more cricket in the evening, just hanging around talking... that's what I remember. Or, choose to remember, since I've lost more than I care to reminiscence on.

In the end, I suppose we may be no different from the waves that crash upon the beach, head as far from the sea as possible and just when we think we've done it, get pulled back toward the only certainty there really is. We're ghosts you know... all the places we've ever been to will be there after we no longer are... and I'd like to think that there's some memory or image of us forever left behind in these places, remembering both the laughter and the times the laughter just wouldn't come. Even something as simple as a seat somewhere has the ability to bring back past images so vividly, you can only wonder how that grain of sand has slipped by... is slipping by.

Does that nameless fear ever clutch your heart suddenly when you wonder how many opportunities have also similarly slipped by ??

There may only be the road ahead of us... but the ghosts are always at our heels and like the siren song, entice us to look back just once more... again and again. In the end, what have we really left behind and what do we really miss ??

The realization that anything and everything was possible... that there was still time... that nothing was really certain......... yet.


Mukti said…
You have cpatured it very well. I know exactly how you feel...I live life with a certain detachment for this very reason.
thumbtwiddler said…
Liked the piece and all that but whose birthday did you rememebr forgetting mine so easily????

Popular posts from this blog

Night Boat

I usually don't write honest pieces. They're true to facts but I tend to lather my emotions and thoughts with a heavy dose of attempted humour or misdirection. This post deserves some raw emotional honesty, though.

Yesterday, 29th August, a Tuesday (or should I say, another Tuesday) was about me making choices. It was raining quite heavily when I left for office, sheeted down the windows of the train throughout the 1-hour journey to Churchgate and kept going with renewed intensity by the time I made it to the entrance, looking verily like something that had drowned in a gutter and lain there a while before being discovered by a cat and dragged in. I made the choice to go to work as I suspected my boss would be there and not because I wanted to go.

I was right about my boss but that cardiac fizz of being right flattened out rather rapidly once I realised, around 11:30 am, that no one else from my team of 20 had bothered to make a similar effort. And, some of these guys live 5 …

Drink up and be somebody

Dear Reader,

History will boldly testify that your favourite blogger is usually slow on the uptake, a state of affairs that's blooming with each passing year like a reverse-Revital. "Why this self-harshness, G", you may ask? Well...

I've been doing the Bom-Pune-Bom trips for 9 years and it's taken about that long to accept that MSRTC Shivneri, still the best bus service of them all, simply cannot (or, realistically, will not) cope with 3-day weekends. Since my job profile does not allow me to plan my travel in advance on said Fridays, I land up at Dadar, view the queue of potential passengers snaking a long way from the ticket window and mentally prepare to arrive home at the hour of morning reserved for sheepish teenagers and dacoits. The Expressway doesn't help anyone's cause thanks to truck drivers spreading themselves generously across 3 lanes and clogging the Lonavala pass to a point where the traffic jam is about 3 km long. A stretch that would tak…

Country Comforts

Part 1

With timing that was far more impeccable than their usual service, the MSRTC went on strike 2 days before Diwali over a pay dispute. I've traveled on their buses for close to 9 years and know full well just how popular they can be just before a major holiday. The chaotic crowd at Dadar is so dense, one would only need to introduce a few Naga sadhus into the mix and hey presto! we've got ourselves a brand new Kumbh Mela. Albeit one where getting out of Bombay ASAP is the only kind of salvation devotees seek. 

News and newspapers being what they are at present, I was unaware of the jolly bus crisis until Wednesday morning when a well-wisher asked how I proposed to go home for the holidays, flourishing the paper in my face with the reluctant panache of a small-town magician. Realising the gravity of the situation, I looked up train schedules and was stunned to find General category seats available on an outstation train departing later that afternoon. As far as I could see, …