​Illusion of Utmost Happiness

Starting tomorrow, I will be officially eligible for the quarter-life crisis. I could not help but welcome this day with another round of overthinking about where am I headed and why. And somehow, surprisingly enough, it doesn’t seem that terrible, at least for now.

July has been very.. let’s just say “nice” for now. Waking up does not seem like an arduous task. My innumerable alarms don’t really alarm me much now. Instead, mornings begin with old melodious music, poetry readings, and all things that subscribe to that idea of utmost happiness now. And to top it, these mornings give me double the scope to be a food bully. What’s not to like about that!

I head to the illogically constructed tiny area jutting out of our kitchen and position myself uncomfortably on the doorstep with a large yellow cup of coffee that honestly looks as if it is struggling with its own identity crisis — espresso or milk coffee is the question! I see how the flowerless wilderness we potted in the beginning of this year has now shaped into a chaos of both dead twigs hopelessly waiting for absolute decay and even adamant foliage steadily growing with a certain intimidating persistence.

As the smell of simmering ghee and spices from the kitchen passes by in its own slow and steady pace, I catch myself thinking about the next meal. This does take time, especially when people are clumsy and indecisive. I take care of the overloaded sink and head back to the hall.

As a part of an unspoken pledge, that place will never have space for an idiot box, but just about enough space for loved idiots. The Diwan is overloaded with things to be packed into suitcases for an upcoming journey that scares us enough already. The golden trunk bears the stains of unending conversations and bouts of laughter from our recent past. With plants carefully arranged in glass bottles rescued from non-hoarders, the hall certainly looks better now. Or that’s what I choose to believe now.

Another proof of this slower, happier part of our lives — we have not been bothered by the wrong dates on that calendar smirking at us from that organised bookshelf!

I look at the stack of books I have shamelessly hoarded in the hope that I will get back to them sometime soon. Oh, that reminds me of how someone recently told me that I should save myself from the pointlessness of reading fiction and watch more movies instead. I could have just rolled my eyes to a whole new dimension after that conversation, I tell you! Okay, coming back to the point, I have all the reasons to get back to those books sooner now. That’s surely a reason good enough to be happy about.

And while I am left all alone in the house again, I do not melt into a pile of mess. No, things did not just magically sort themselves and I was not trusted with some divine intervention.

Happiness is transient, a messed up head is probably not. Yet, somehow it does seem hopeful. It scares to admit but maybe, I can at least try to hold on to this happiness, or whatever it is, for now.

Utmost Happiness, until then!

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