From the rooftop…
The birds took off into the setting Sun as a monsoon breeze brushed my hair & there it was — the perfect microcosm. You could find one of everything looking down from that rooftop. It was up to your eye to look for things that would make you either more grateful or just envious & bitter. I looked in the alley to the side of the house and an old man, back arched with age, was on his daily evening walk back home. His cane supported him as he shuffled along; calmly observing the world around him (which must seem fast-paced to him even though it was a residential area and not the heart of the city). There were groups of people who would walk by him and wave as they passed. That wave had a form of deference owing to the years of life experience that emanated from that man’s eyes. Looking at that man from a distance, I could imagine what he might’ve been thinking. Replaying memories of the days gone by. Hopefully, a life that was seemed worth it now. Were there things he must regret? Sure. Were there events that still brought a smile to his face? Definitely. Isn’t that just lovely? What more do you need to induce the sense of calm that we miss the most in this world right now? With everyone hustling to get there, seeing someone like that makes you realize it all evens out eventually (Seinfeld callback), and you can maybe worry a little less.
I shifted my gaze to the other side of the house, and what did I find but a brilliant display of the circle of life. There it was, a stroller, with a kid being given a tour she’d never remember but was essential anyway. Her eyes glistening with wonder at everything she laid them on. The shih tzu being walked nearby was a fascinating sight to her! The kid probably didn’t have a lot to think about. There was no worry about paying the bills this month, completing an assignment by the end of the week, or putting in that job application full of apprehension. She just looked at things. She was just present. To see something in stark contrast to this thinking, you didn’t have to look far away. Raising your gaze just a bit, you could see the mom pushing the stroller. She didn’t look quite that fascinated. There was a sense of routine and responsibility. You can love your kid with all your heart but still feel bothered by the monotony of going out on the same route to soothe the crying child. You can love your kid with all your heart but still worry about the finances in the family owing to the added responsibility. What’s her future going to be like with what you and your husband are making a month? But oh well. You think you will somehow navigate it all.
Of course, there were those joggers. Almost everyone plugged into their phone — some listening to a podcast, others talking to people on it. You see the occasional person who cares enough to look around without a gadget on them (there’s probably hope for humanity after all!) The best was yet to come, though. Unadulterated joy. Two houses down the road, I see two kids coming out with their bicycles. The excitement to just ride that bike at the top speed your body could pump you up with. The falling and getting up without thinking too much of it. “Oh my God, I fell! Am I ever going to be good at this? I have been riding it for quite some time now. I keep falling still?! There must be something wrong with me.” NONE of that. And for the best. Phew...
What a bleak world it would be if we had kids thinking that way. But what happened? Along the way, we started letting mistakes (and “failures”?) bother us too much. We started caring too much. Started taking things way too seriously. You fell down? Big deal! Get up and get going again. You’ve seen what’s coming, haven’t you? — with the ruminating old guy. Feeling purposeless and passing your days full of listlessness is the worst punishment you could give your life on earth. Whatever it is that we do or “fail” to do, just go either way. No point in standing at the junction and letting life happen to you. Whether it goes the way you planned or it doesn’t — either way, by the end of it all, you would’ve lived with both regrets and moments of happiness you reminisce on a summer evening (as you shuffle back to your home)…
Thanks for reading!
