The Art of Detachment (From Sadness and Happiness Alike)
What you, me, and the ancient Stoics have in common
In January, I visited my hometown after a decade.
The first thought that struck me was how much the city had changed.
All the tiny lanes I’d known as a young girl are now paved streets with dividers and traffic lights. The houses with thatched roofs gave way to concrete buildings. The two and three wheelers on the road are replaced by swanky cars.
In my absence, the town underwent a makeover.
My favourite restaurants from ten years ago are now dilapidated old buildings where nobody ever goes.
The landmarks I used to navigate around the city are ramshackle houses no one’s ever heard of.
This got me into a spiral of wondering about the transcendence of life.
The last time I lived here, I was in college. I had huge dreams of being a successful civil engineer and making my parents proud. The boy I was in love with, I was convinced he’d be my life partner. The books and music I obsessed over, I felt like no art could ever come close in comparison to how awesome they are.
But now, things are so different, it makes me laugh.
