…as is life

I remember the time when I wrote about the couple at the footpath for the first time. I remember when I wrote about their child. Three years down the line, they still live, at the same place, proudly with another child of their own. Three years down the line, life has changed a lot for them, for me, for all of us.

I remember the time when I wrote about the one-legged beggar at our colony for the first time. I remember when I wrote about her crying at nights – winter nights, mostly. Three years down the line, I don’t see her these days. Maybe she is dead. Three years down the line, she didn’t change much, the last time I saw her. Three years down the line, my feelings for her didn’t change, that much.

I remember the ‘Thoughts of a wanderer’, wandering in the lake places in the evening, I remember why I asked to ‘Listen to Southern Avenue’, I remember why I was ‘Mad’, because I told someone ‘Good Night’, and they didn’t answer. Life has taught me to remember things. And then to smile at them. 

Listening to a song from a long time ago, and when you clearly remind of the time when you had listened to it for the first time, it’s a whole different nostalgia. Life has changed a lot, but that time stops in there, somewhere. It reminds me of the story ‘Time stops at Shamli’.

Didn’t have anything much to write, still wanted to write something. Going to Bangalore on Sunday for an exam. Something about which I am very unsure of. 

The road of the fightback is long. As is life. But I wish it stopped at places I wanted, forever. 

- August 3rd, '12