It is a bright crisp October evening as I am writing this and I can't help but remember some of the sweetest things connected to my childhood. I have always loved this time of the year, it heralds my favourite season winter. There is a freshness in the air and the anticipating the cold north wind makes one feel nostalgic for that time in life when October stood for the start of the holiday season.
Well the two of the major festivals in the Indian calendar have come and gone with a few more to follow. But, I must confess that a sense of fatigue has begun to set in. There was a time when I was younger when autumn was a buoyant time of the year when, ever single day brought a fresh chance to enjoy with friends and go on epic shopping expedition to various 'upscale' malls and frantic flea markets in anticipation of the winters.
Now though, one finds more joy sitting around in the evenings reading, which might prompt the following question, when did I become so boring. If I were to stand in front of my younger self, she would berate me for consigning my life to what she would consider 'purgatory'. Yet one can't help but wonder whether one's tendency towards becoming a homebody has something to do with just growing up.
I have read so many articles about the rapid decline and fatigue most millennials face in their late 20's. Whilst I shudder at the thought of my life taking such a moribund turn, I guess that there is some grain of truth to it all. Life, I guess does catch up with us at some time or the other; or is it that we catch up with life? That is a question for the intrepid pop-philosophers of the modern era. In the meantime I am of to curl up on the settee with an exciting new book.
Well the two of the major festivals in the Indian calendar have come and gone with a few more to follow. But, I must confess that a sense of fatigue has begun to set in. There was a time when I was younger when autumn was a buoyant time of the year when, ever single day brought a fresh chance to enjoy with friends and go on epic shopping expedition to various 'upscale' malls and frantic flea markets in anticipation of the winters.
Now though, one finds more joy sitting around in the evenings reading, which might prompt the following question, when did I become so boring. If I were to stand in front of my younger self, she would berate me for consigning my life to what she would consider 'purgatory'. Yet one can't help but wonder whether one's tendency towards becoming a homebody has something to do with just growing up.
I have read so many articles about the rapid decline and fatigue most millennials face in their late 20's. Whilst I shudder at the thought of my life taking such a moribund turn, I guess that there is some grain of truth to it all. Life, I guess does catch up with us at some time or the other; or is it that we catch up with life? That is a question for the intrepid pop-philosophers of the modern era. In the meantime I am of to curl up on the settee with an exciting new book. 