Tag Archives: future

Of Once-Upon-A-Times

She was elated that day. Happy, cheerful with an infectious mirth plastered over her face. She skipped down the stairs, swinging her arms; twirled around on the road, laughing really hard. Nothing could spoil her mood that day, she knew. She couldn’t wait to get back home and pick up her phone and tell people about how happy she was.

She was sad. Utterly, painfully sad. Only barely she kept herself from breaking down in front of the class of sixty students that sat in the little room. Her eyes welled up and her hands shook every time the lump in her throat became too hard to swallow. She couldn’t wait to get back home and find a shoulder to cry on.

She reached home and plopped herself back on her bed, still smiling and picked up her phone. Scrolling through the contacts, she bit her lips as she wondered who to call to. Sure she had a lot of friends in her list. But she wanted to call a particular someone and tell her how happy she was. Her fingers hovered a while above the one name she had tried to forget for the past few months and her lips twisted into a frown. Suddenly, she was no longer happy. An almost sheering pain jolted through her body as the painful realization dawned upon her that she couldn’t call that person up. While one part of her desperately wanted to give it a try and see if things worked out fine, the other part of her was scared. Scared that she would end up as a blocked contact. So, silently wiping the little tear that trickled down her cheek, she put away her phone and sighed.

She reached home and gasped for air. Never in her life had she felt so broken and so disastrous. There was only one person who knew how to calm her down and how to give her the courage to face another dawn. But, were they even talking anymore? Clutching the armrest of her leather couch, she coughed and broke down. A part of her wanted to leave her a message. Just to know if she cared enough to reply back. But what if she didn’t? She didn’t think she could take that kind of pain again, anymore.

Both of them cried to sleep that night, each thinking about the other. They missed the times they laughed over the phone; and ate till they choked. They remembered the times they promised each other how they’d forgive no matter what and how they’ll be friends forever. And oh, how they cried when they realized forever had just been a sincere lie.

Each one of them made a silent wish before they drifted to sleep…to go back to best friends they had once been.

Once upon a time.

If There Was A Way To See The Future, What Would You Want To See?

We are all vulnerable.. susceptible to it. The dread and anxiety of not knowing what is about to come the very next second. Each night, even though the thought never clearly crosses our mind, we heave a sigh of relief that the day has gone by without any hassles. Each night, after a long hectic day of unpreparedness of what is about to strike us the very next moment, we are grateful that we have managed to get through the day. The future, the very next moment, the very next day- all of them hold our wildest hopes. They hold the possibilities for a myriad miracles that can change our lives. And in the same breath, they hold our deepest fears. It worries us every night that what if something bad happens the next day? What if the things we’ve been running from suddenly spring out of nowhere? Do we fall back on the things we’ve known? Or do we face them head front and fight our way through? Or do we take a step back and drown into nothingness?

We spend our whole lives worrying about the future, planning for the future, trying to predict the future. As if figuring it out will somehow cushion the blow.

What if.. what if.. there was actually a way to see the future?

Wouldn’t you want to know about the people who’ll stay by your side when you breathe your last?

Wouldn’t you want to know about the glorious moments that await?

Wouldn’t you want to know if you have a chance with the boy sitting next to you in the cafe?

Wouldn’t you want to know if every tear and every pain that you survived was worthwhile?

Wouldn’t you want to know where life would lead you?

Wouldn’t you want to know about every significant thing that happens in the future?

Wouldn’t you want to know the perfect answer to “Where do you see yourselves in the next five years“?

Wouldn’t you just want to know?

Instead of living in the dark, wouldn’t it be pleasant just to see a glimmer of what is about to arrive?

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to know if I would be standing in my kitchen, looking out through the window at the vast expanse of the ocean, while stirring a hot meal. I would want to know if I would be smiling then. I would want to know how my heart feels. I would want to know if the ocean still sings. I would want to know if I’m alone, humming in the rather empty house, all to myself. I would want to know the person who would be calling on my phone at that very moment.

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to see the course of my life. I would want to know every speed breaker I’ve managed to cross. I would want to know of every dark day that has changed my life. And I would want to know of the brighter days I will have.

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to see my wildest hopes carrying me through. I would want to know of the miracles the future holds. I would want to know how bright the sun shines when I’m eighty. I would want to know if I would someday drive down a long, long road.

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to know of the sunsets and sunrises I wake up to. I would want to know so much more.

If there a way to see the future, what would you want to see?

Of Tomorrows And Todays And Golden Yesterdays

“I’ll be gone,” I tell him. “In less than a month or two, I’ll be packing my stuff and leaving.”

I watch a slow frown draw itself on his face as he hears me intently. His eyes blink slowly and from the heaps of books spread out in front of him, he looks up and meets my gaze.

“You’ll leave forever?” he asks.

Shrugging, I flip a page of the ruled notebook that lies in front of me and put my pen there. Closing it, I sit back on the chair and sigh.

“Not really,” I tell myself that it is the truth, but deep inside, something hurts. “I mean I’ll return twice or maybe thrice in a year. It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

He nods his head carefully and looks down at the fluttering pages in front of him.

“Things are happening so fast!” I exclaim. “I remember waking up to August afternoons and cribbing. I wanted to leave sooner. The boredom was killing me. Each day, I’d put my books aside and tell myself that there’s still so much time! But look, it’s nearing April already! It seems like it was just yesterday when I was waking up to late mornings, lazily sipping on a mug of coffee and whiling away my day.”

His eyes are focused on the page but he nods slightly.

“Only four years to this date, you’d be thinking about this too. You’ll be done with your school and preparing for college already.”

“Right, four years,” he mumbles. “It’s all happening too quickly.”

I nod in agreement.

Leaning further back into my chair, I think of the glorious days of the year I had spent with my family. Each night, we’d sit at the dining table and hear Mom and Dad’s events in the office. Each morning, we’d wake up amidst hesitation and grogginess, wishing the darn alarm would let us sleep for five long minutes only. Each afternoon, we’d make ourselves steaming bowls of noodles and settle in front of the TV to watch a movie.

But all that is about to change. In a few months, I’ll be far away from this home. And it filled me with utter sorrow.

“And after college, you’ll return back?” he asks.

I shake my head slowly.

“It scares me,” I tell him. “After this, home is a far away thing. You have to stand up on your own, get yourself a job, live on your own, cook your food, wash your clothes. From this point on, I’ll be so far away.”

“It sure is happening too quickly,” he remarks.

“Every tomorrow that dawns, I want to go back. I really want the clock to stop. I want time to pause. Right now, it’s running too fast and I have yet to slowly lose myself in every moment. I want to touch everything and imprint its every crevice in my brain. I want to smell that musk of the attic and trap the scents in my brain. I want to make lasting memories so that I won’t miss all this so much.”

“I’ll miss you,” he says.

My lips quiver. My eyes feel heavy. And my heart holds a profound pain.

In that one moment that is weighing me down, I can only think of a dialogue from a favourite show of mine:

It is the oldest story in the world. One day you’re seventeen and planning for someday, and then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today and that someday is yesterday and this is your life.”(One Tree Hill)

Silently, wiping the slight trail of a tear that had managed to escape, I turn around and look down at my books again.

“It’s late. Let’s study,” I say.

“One last question though,” my brother interrupts. “Is it really happening so quickly?”

I wish I could tell him otherwise.