Featness mantra
Once upon a time, you were a kid filled with boundless energy. You ran here and there and jumped up and down and fell and pulled yourself and jumped again. Yet you hardly ever felt tired. You were always up for more. One more cricket match. One more ride on the bicycle. One more this and one more that. There was no stopping you. You attended a family wedding with your folks and you couldn’t stand quietly anywhere. You either had to run around like a fool with fellow kids or, if you were classier, mimic Shaun Pollock’s or Chaminda Vaas’ bowling style — the world was your pitch.
And then something tragic happened. You grew up.
To be precise, it’s difficult to surmise whether you grew up or got older because these two events are mutually exclusive. You grow up when you learn something that you’re never going to forget again. You get older when you keep visiting the past out of compulsion instead of leisure. The former is a trip in to the future. The latter, well, the less said the better. It’s like a piece of you must have gone lost somewhere back in time and thus, you can’t move on.
“I was quicker back then!”
“I was a lot fitter back then!”
“I was certainly smarter back then!”
“I was way more hardworking back then!”
Nostalgia is a strange prison. You walk in to it because you want to free yourself from a crime scene called the present. You can walk out whenever you like but you end up enjoying the warmth it provides. The bitter truth is enveloped in a genuine question: For how long can you hide from yourself by hiding in your past?
You’ve got to set the ball rolling. You’ll get fastest with time.
You’ve got to work out. Tomorrow is a mythical country with no visa.
You’ve got to embrace challenges. Knowing all the answers is never enough.
You’ve got to stop hoping things to fall into your lap. Unless you are filthy lucky.
Comparison comes naturally to us. We can even go to the extent of comparing ABC with XYZ without bothering to study their respective backdrops. Things get intense when it’s you comparing you with a version of you that you believe once existed. The trouble with this weighing scale is you don’t always remember the exact details.
Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t very quick back then.
Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t fit back then.
Maybe, just maybe, you were an idiot.
Maybe, just maybe, you slacked.
Accordingly, the past is best left to… err.. the past. What we can do right now is all that matters. Time is essential only as long as we can feel it pass. After hitting the bedrock of maudlin, time turns in to a torture cell. Compared to which, the prison of nostalgia would begin to appear like a boon. The trick is to not fall for its charm and just keep going. Like the kid in you would want you to.
