[20] Quarter century reflections

I want to go back to the time when getting high meant on a swing.When dad was the only hero. When love was mum's hug. When dad's shoulder was the highest place on earth. When your worst enemies were your siblings. When the only thing that could hurt were wounded knees. When the only things broken were toys and when goodbyes meant only till tomorrow. Now we realize that life has changed so much~ AA

This dil kholna in this post is courtesy a trying period in all phases of life over the last few months and this semester break offers a brief intermission to take stock of things and error correct. I dont know if this is what they call quarter life crises.Just thought to pour out some thoughts in this post. How many of us look out of the window wondering where it all went. The world not looking like anything like what we wanted to grow up in.

We wanted epic adventures and what do we get.. four days vacation. We wanted a mission..we go for groceries. We wanted a purpose and we get cubicles. We wanted a beautiful, enchanting damsel..we get a jaded career women(ya woh bhi nahi :p). We wanted a castle..we get a rented apartment. We wanted wisdom..we get insipid talkshows. We wanted treasures..we get a wage. We wanted to be a knight with a shining armor who would change the world..we end up becoming a face in the crowd dabbling away in our routine. We wanted fairy tale endings... we get reality, which is a boulevard of broken dreams. It just seems that whole of life is a never ending chase for one thing to another till the graveyard is hit.

Maybe we are not entitled to anything. Maybe we are here to give our deepest gifts in a totally unrestrained manner no matter what the situation. Knowing what we offer may not be accepted. Knowing that whatever we create will be destroyed only to stoop and build it again with worn out tools without loss of enthusiasm or trust. Maybe thats what Bruce Lee meant when he wrote in Tao of Jeet Kun Do to be the water and not the rock. Maybe rough and smooth are but the same and is just the interpretation we put on it. Easier said than done. Maybe thats why they call it practice. To conclude with a sher by Ghalib that seems somewhat relevent to this post

Mareez-e-khwab tu ab shafaa hai 'Ghalib'

Magar....duniya badi kadwi dawa thi

Angreji translation:

You are now cured from the illness of dreams 'Ghalib'

But...world was a very bitter medicine