Life and a Metro
This is an absolutely true story. As are all others. But this one is better.
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It was a cold, rainy evening, and I had to be somewhere. With a tote bag in tow, I walked as fast as I could to the metro station. Out of nowhere, halfway along the road, a tiny white feather floated into my view. I, a deeply spiritual person, took it as a concrete sign that my spirit guides had me on the track they’d intended; that is what white feathers usually signify. Greatly enthused, I picked up pace with a smile on my face. Now that I think about it, while I strutted at full speed expecting a lovely miracle, I’m sure my guides shared a giggle about my obliviousness towards what was to come.
I lost a friend, a few months ago. A dear friend we can call Z for this post. While they are very much healthy and alive, our friendship died a pretty gruesome and untimely death. The cause? A poorly-handled fight I’d never seen coming, a crack that kept growing and couldn’t be sealed at all.
Although it had been quite a while since that tragedy unfolded, I was nearly incapacitated from the grief on a particularly cold, rainy evening. You know how it is: it comes and goes in waves, as it pleases, hits you like a speeding truck on some days.
I barely moved the entire morning and afternoon until I was unexpectedly summoned by another friend, P, for an impromptu rendezvous. “Maybe the Universe has something in store,” I mumbled, mustered just enough strength, and was on my way to the metro station in no time. Little did I know that that evening would change me monumentally.
By the time I reached the station, I was late and too exhausted to run any more. So, mentally prepared to miss a ride and catch the next one after my arrival like always, I took my sweet time on the escalator to the top. Then, I was hit with a surprise. Quite contrary to my expectations, the metro to my destination was right there, waiting, when I reached the platform. It was the first time in a month that I didn’t have to wait for one, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Doors wide open, the metro beckoned me to board it. But I couldn’t. I stood frozen. Anyone else in my shoes would probably jump on without a second thought and not make much of the situation. Maybe, at most, they would give their lucky stars a quick thanks and be on their way. To me, though, it was unfamiliar and strange to have a blessing ready and presented so eagerly exactly when I needed it.
That is why I couldn’t grab the good fortune right in front of me. That is why the tug-of-war between head and heart started. That is why, fifteen seconds turned into an eternity.
“What if the driver has made a mistake? What if the doors close on me? What if the metro departs as soon as I reach the door? I’d rather let this one go anyway and catch the next,” my confused self reasoned. Why choose disappointment, right? I could not possibly be so lucky. But I was, and I couldn’t see it.
For my entire life up until then, overthinking had been my friend. I liked to think that it protected me from many possible heartbreaks and was my greatest ally against my perceived hostility of life. I loved being an overthinker, or rather, someone who thought about the good and bad of every situation apparently for the better. In better words, I prided myself on this trait of mine, of never taking uncalculated risks and always choosing the rationally better option. Never thought that this very glorified yet double-edged coping mechanism might have done more harm than good sometimes.
Seconds passed. The doors were still open, and the passengers were impatient. Someone exclaimed that the doors had never stayed ajar for so long in a while. The signs were right there: it was a miracle. All I had to do was run a few steps and catch it. I was only a metre away. But that one metre turned into a mile in a moment.
I kept my distance and let my overthinking get the better of me. In doing so, as I realised later, I made the mistake I had no clue I’d been making all along.
After not being on talking terms, I’d once called Z on a whim, out of absolute desperation, as a last-ditch attempt to repair what was broken. That was a fortnight ago, on the very same day they had spoken to me for the first time in weeks like nothing was ever wrong.
While I was grateful, I was also overwhelmed with questions and couldn’t go another day without asking why. So I took my shot, dialled their number, and let fate take over. Of all the things that were said on that phone call, what I remember the most is that Z had dared to tell me something no one had ever told me before. At least not right to my face.
They said something on these lines, “You know what your biggest setback is? You overthink things, and you overthink them too much at that. You try to predict every consequence an action of yours can have, even before you take that action. And then you complicate everything. You determine that if you do B, C will happen or if you do C, D might not happen. But what if you’re being your own obstacle? What if that is not how things turn out or work? That is not how life is. That is not how life should be.”
I realised they were speaking the truth, and it made complete sense. I heard them and registered what they’d said, but I wish I had truly listened. Maybe I would not have forgotten, then.
The metro was still in front of me. The doors were still open. Time was ticking by, second after second. The beeps still beckoned. But my anxiety had bound my feet to the ground. My thoughts raced at the speed of light. My fear of disappointment had me in a chokehold. I almost gave up. Almost.
Then, another miracle happened. I do not know what changed, but I decided to take a chance. I finally chose to run. “There must be a reason why the metro has waited so long for me. I must get on. I will take a risk.”
Newfound hope and a spirit of adventure raced through my veins. I decided to conquer my fear once and for all. I’m choosing to take a leap of faith, I reasoned, and I would find my freedom. I reasoned that I’d be very proud of myself for the rest of the day for doing something so unlike me. For being a risk taker for once.
I freed my feet from the ground and rushed, an inch away from a changed life. I would thank my lucky stars and be on my way too. I’d finally win against my brain. But I must have been too late, for that is when it happened. That which I momentarily forgot could happen.
The doors closed.
“I knew this would happen, and I still risked it. I’m stupid.” You might think that this is exactly what crossed my mind as soon as the metro made its way right when I was about to enter it. But it wasn’t. I was rather too stunned to think at all, honestly.
All I remember of that moment is just watching the vehicle zoom away and feeling the wind slap my face while it did so. Feeling the dust in my eyes. Staring at the tracks. Seeing the last bogey vanish from my sight. In that moment of absolute stillness, I was empty. I was silent, unknowingly savouring the calm before the storm. Not so long after, Z’s words chose to make themselves remembered, and my tears refused to wait any longer.
Minutes away from a complete shutdown, the only person I could think of was Z. Everything they had ever warned me about came rushing to me in full glory, everything they had said on that fateful phonecall on that fateful day. I was reeling from the realisation that it was all true. That I had let my overthinking become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It all finally hit me. It hit hard. And I wept. Oh, how I wept.
A month has passed since that evening at the metro station. I have taken more risks since then. More fears conquered. More thrills sought. My fear doesn’t tie me down as often now, and I cross traffic-sandwiched roads much better than I used to. I have learned to recognise the fine line between overthinking and being sensible, for good. Most importantly, I cannot think of a single instance since then that has hindered my evolution as a happier, balanced human being. I’m stumbling and falling and growing and going.
It is true that life’s greatest lessons do not make themselves known until you are truly ready for them. No matter how much someone warns you, no matter how much they implore you, you will learn your lesson only when it’s time and only by experiencing it for yourself. This is the rule of the Universe and nobody is exempt from it.
“सर्वस्यापि भवेद्धेतुः”, or “everything happens for a reason.” Whether that event, or the reason, is pleasant or otherwise is secondary. Now, the interpretations of the same event can be as varied as the number of fish on the sea. While it is completely up to you to choose the moral of the story, I hope you choose one that helps you be better and live better day after day.
To this day, Z and I remain estranged. The love and the grief are still alive, dancing in circles inside my heart. Maybe that chapter will never close, or maybe it has closed, and I just don’t know it yet. Even though it may seem that the story hasn’t yet ended, in my eyes, it has. And that is because I learned one of the most important lessons I could ever be blessed enough to learn: everything beyond my control is now for the Universe to sort out, everything in my control is for me to change, and I will try my best to correctly determine the difference.
To me, ultimately, the moral of my story is this: “If your soul feels right about something, do not let your mind ruin it for you. Do not let the blessings and good things in your life become the train you could’ve boarded but didn’t. Do not let your life pass right by you. Live life in all its messy glory. Live.”
