Whither my days?

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year

Lines from the eternal poem ‘On his having arrived at the age of twenty three’ by John Milton. Reading the poem as a careless teenager never did I ponder enough over what the Miltonic language tried to convey. It was a stage far away, and the excitement of the imminent youth blinded the poet’s subtle mourning. Soon the years, of youth, were to come and the words of Milton were lost in memory. The years seemed never-ending.


Days would begin with the usual monotone expected from a father to his ‘useless’ son about the benefits, which were to dodge me for many years, of being an early-riser. Dressed as a typical urban middle class boy, garlanded with a fancy bag, it didn’t have anything of consequence in it, I set out. Not before my smiling mother unfailingly waved goodbye to me. And then it was me and my love, my cruiser bike. Driving on the streets of the city of my dreams, Chandigarh, much like Rabbi Shergill in the now much-praised song, Dilli. I sang as if the roads were all to me. My destination was at a distance of 3 songs.

Through my 5 years of college life one thing that I was uncannily consistent at was missing the first class. Most part of the day was spent in the corridor (Besides the other classes). Barring the occasional talk about the fast approaching professional life, and the baggage it would bring along (which I suspect Milton refers to as manhood), I was mostly gleeful.
With this setting, life went on at it’s usual pace. And as it happens in true proverbial sense Time flew, leaving just a whiff of the yesteryears.

Waqt rehta nahin kahin tick kar
Iski aadat bhi aadmi see hai

At 25, the words of Milton are back and more meaningful than ever before. For I seem to be lost in a muddle. The spirit of the ol’ days flutters, though, infrequently, rendering a semblance to the old me in my mind. Must admit that I lead a reasonably happy and satisfied life, but still the yearning of going back rules the heart. Going back to a phase which was symbolized by the free wheeling spirit, bursts of untamed laughter, and the unflagging enthusiasm. All of which seem limited today in many senses.

‘That I too manhood am arrived so near’

The fear of impending manhood perhaps worried Milton more than the loss of youth. Manhood holds back everything that youth stands for and therein lies the reason for ‘harking back’. As I look ahead, I see ambitions, dreams, achievements and much more. But in the same breath I see the growing irrelevance and the eventual fading away of all this. Perhaps, that’s because in the course of our grown-up lives we forget living the life of the heart.

Success means living the life of the heart
- Francis Ford Coppola

The quest of life ought to be found out while living life of the heart, else it ain’t worth it.

In life there are five balls, health, spirit, family, friends and work
Work is a rubber ball if it falls, it will keep coming up…..
While the other 4 balls are made of glass, if they fall you lose them

My thwarted and sometimes successful attempts at rekindling the spirit of the days gone by leave me with a hope. A hope that ferries me from dawn to midnight. A hope that promises the long walk back home.

A hope that promises my old self……