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Image Credit: Pixabay

I woke up grumpy on a Sunday morning after spending a ‘Moondowner Saturday’ with friends. The usual Saturday evening hype is here to stay. In all my self-awareness, I have lost the charm for a cheap thrill that’s masked under such evenings.

Not that I like to starve myself of the social drama, but the shift in culture — from having to see friends for fun as opposed to showing off a certain lifestyle and then putting a million bucks for a 60ml mocktail is no longer quenching my thirst. ‘Am I going to the wrong parties?’ I am convinced. However, seeing one’s friends shouldn’t be a matter of effort. It’s like having to see your friends for a certain fee, and I believe therapists do a better job at that.

It hits me like a truck to see friends and not come back having a good time. So, to moderate my senses, I simmered my pace this Sunday. Only to then sponge the realities of life I weren’t otherwise paying attention to.

1 — It started with my Uncle, as I saw him crumble with cancer. An otherwise fit chap, full of life and a self-proclaimed food connoisseur has shrunk down from the appetite of an elephant to that of an ant. He constantly emotes grimace as he sees others relish the snacks while he lays low, sucking a pill followed by another, waiting on his side table. His pale vibe urges all to live it up while we are still able. Those we once banked upon are now losing the currency of youth and health. Roles are reversing.

2 — Later that morning, I insisted my mother cooks me my favourite Dal Chawal. She told me to order it on Zomato. I insisted, I wanted her signature style. Now because I longed for it, my expectations may have surged. She served me and there they were dressed in yellow and white, but I guess my taste buds went on a strike or the food choose to settle for the stomach than for the heart. The food that once put me in a coma now barely faints my senses.

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Looking at those pictures, I questioned my current self — when did I gain so much? (Image representational) Image Credit: Reuters

3 — Then 3ish, while trying to look for some work documents, I found an old album of pictures. One always makes time to sit with these sepia-coloured memories, despite the urgent matters at hand. Looking at those pictures, I questioned my current self — when did I gain so much?

And then looking at the friends in the picture, another question followed — when did I lose y’all? I may have gone out of touch with people, but their birthday stickers hang on my memory wall, and I may choose not to wish them, but I wish them well. The friends with whom we deemed a colourful future, are now just cluttering our closets and memory.

4 — And then a late-night flight, leaving my home and hometown for big dreams and bigger bucks. The memories of the trip echo every time I Uber myself to the airport. Time lapses, I was just on the other side of the road, excited to be back home, and now I’m on my way back. It all goes by in a jiffy and then it fills me with fear, whether I’m making the right bad decisions or the wrong bad ones?

The song on the radio mirrors my mood —

We’re only getting older baby

And I’ve been thinking about it lately

Does it ever drive you crazy?

Just how fast the night changes.


Life’s maturing. Meeting the same old people, doing the same old thing, eating the same old food, partying the same old way, is no longer deriving the same old fun. It’s like not feeling sheltered at places where you had built home.

One may also label it as a midlife crisis, be it as it may, as it only makes me question: ‘Is this all there is,’ or this is something where I leave the baggage and do something good with whatever I know or have accumulated.

Waking up on a Monday morning resuming work — I guess Sunday was better.

Ashish Dewani is an avid traveller and writer. Twitter: @a5hush