My assertion to the title of the post is contrary to the general perception. While the calendar states I am somewhere close to 30s (and this is a conservative view, I am taking) but the mind refuses to accept the stark reality.
Like Shahid Afridi I had decided to pause on turning 18. I somehow found that age quite comfortable. In fact, some of the best times I had started from that age. A little earlier perhaps. But for the sake of not been extremely far from the truth, lets assume that to be 18. So, while the years went by, the sprightly young dynamism in me never took a backseat. I did choose to laze and while away the time I had and I spent most part of it yearning for the attention of one lady I had sort of taken a liking to, but other than that the amount of time I had I spent it with gutso and an energy that, now, I cannot even fathom I had.
In short, I had no time. There were exactly 42,351 things to be done. Life was trying to keep pace with me. And failing every day.
Now, from that time on to this day, I have missed the days in between. I mean, till about 23 (now, I am talking about the calendar age), I can recount every damned thing I did. I remember the emotions I felt pretty much every moment. The question is why ? Probably its because of the incredible people I had in my life at that time. My friends.
Today, I have pretty much lost all of them. It is an unfortunate reality which someday I will need to accept. And move on. While the relationship may still be strong and when we meet, it may still be magic. But what is lost is that daily grind of being swayed by unusually useless things, of just talking about life. Of sharing. I do not know what joy they have by pursuing a life which will provide them with unimaginable prosperity. Maybe, that is the only thing to live for. The telephone conversations keep the thread intact but does not allow it to fly.
Maybe, after all of this, I am still yet to grow up. I possibly, never will. Do I want/need to ?
Like Shahid Afridi I had decided to pause on turning 18. I somehow found that age quite comfortable. In fact, some of the best times I had started from that age. A little earlier perhaps. But for the sake of not been extremely far from the truth, lets assume that to be 18. So, while the years went by, the sprightly young dynamism in me never took a backseat. I did choose to laze and while away the time I had and I spent most part of it yearning for the attention of one lady I had sort of taken a liking to, but other than that the amount of time I had I spent it with gutso and an energy that, now, I cannot even fathom I had.
In short, I had no time. There were exactly 42,351 things to be done. Life was trying to keep pace with me. And failing every day.
Now, from that time on to this day, I have missed the days in between. I mean, till about 23 (now, I am talking about the calendar age), I can recount every damned thing I did. I remember the emotions I felt pretty much every moment. The question is why ? Probably its because of the incredible people I had in my life at that time. My friends.
Today, I have pretty much lost all of them. It is an unfortunate reality which someday I will need to accept. And move on. While the relationship may still be strong and when we meet, it may still be magic. But what is lost is that daily grind of being swayed by unusually useless things, of just talking about life. Of sharing. I do not know what joy they have by pursuing a life which will provide them with unimaginable prosperity. Maybe, that is the only thing to live for. The telephone conversations keep the thread intact but does not allow it to fly.
Maybe, after all of this, I am still yet to grow up. I possibly, never will. Do I want/need to ?
