Life never ceases to amaze me; how easily it turns present into past, and past into just a faint memory. The upheavals of the past are mere stories, the tribulations of the past so cursory. Life moves on, amazedly, hurriedly…
It was only yesterday when I nervously clambered up the train to Navi Mumbai to attend my first poetry meet with strangers come together over words. I knew no one, I went all alone and I was all of twenty-one. Along the way to the other end of town, in the blistering summer sun, I was contemplative. I reluctantly stepped into the meeting, seeing no one, mumbling hello.
Everybody took turns to recite their piece, and then it was mine. Mustering all the courage I had ever known, I recited ‘Summer,’ a tale of lost hope. What stays with me even today, after all these years, was the silence that greeted me after. Then, the slow applause, the encore. I knew nothing of facing a crowd, or writing poetry or fellow book-lovers and yet I had done it.
It was only a piece of poetry, easily forgotten, but the faint memory of overcoming fear sweetly lingers.
Last week, as I stood on stage yet again, spoke into the mic, and addressed a crowd with little fear, the memory was sweeter still.
As life moulds you, it is sometimes nice to sit back and watch. The best spectacles so often, are our own lives.