I know we say this every year, that the year passed by so quickly but this Autumn feels like it arrived too early.
My heart is already sinking, there were so many goals I made, and I met them and now it’s almost time to celebrate, the year is ending and a new one awaits – there’s festivity of all sorts and genres – I can hear the sounds of Garba, and social media filled with unbelievably exotic Durga Pandals, Ravan statutes on every road waiting to be burnt, well-lit lanes, crowded streets with Bhandara [food cooked in large scale distributed to all the devotees that come by outside temples] and all the vehicles decorated in my small town with a garlands of Genda Phool.
The houses have started to get cleaned, Diwali is just around the corner and new clothes to be bought. Among the chaos, the weather has slowly moved from muddy monsoons to empty dusky evenings. Apples have ripened and plucked out, arranged symmetrically into crates.
Greens are turning red, brown and yellow.
There are more leaves under my feet than above my head. It’s transforming from grey clouds to grey wind, and among the festivities, amidst the sinking sky, my heart is sinking too.
It’d be unfair to say I’m not happy, because I really am happy – but love seems to feel lost, dropped out of my hand, and I don’t know what it feels like anymore. I want to feel loved, I want to feel love. As the trees are letting go of its leaves, I am letting go of something too. I don’t know how, I don’t know why.
I don’t know what I wanted to write about when I started typing my heart out, like my waxed feelings began to melt and poured out in letters. I don’t remember what I wanted to speak about.
There are only a few weeks left for me to turn 25, and fuck! it still seems like a joke. How did I grow up so much? When did I metamorphose into an adult? I don’t mean to say its bad, trust me when I say this – being an adult has its own perks, its own shade of freedom, yes there are responsibilities but you will always have a choice which ones you want to sign up for [even if society tells you otherwise]. I am just adapting to all of this. I am just learning to feel comfortable in my adult skin.
If childhood was the summer – full of mangoes and holidays,
teenage felt like the monsoons – you could jump in the dirt and not care,
starting of an adult life – autumn has arrived;
mid-life just like winters – its cozy and unending,
old age, perhaps spring,
what do you think?
All in love,