As I walked down the dusty long lane leading towards the banks of the serine river in the outskirts of our village, I pondered over the frailty of life, of how uncertain it is to endeavor the epitome of happiness in one moment and meet an inevitable nature of predestined fall in the next. I wondered about the unjustified criteria inherited within our senses of taking things for granted.
It has been a journey of two years, six months and twenty-seven days now, a journey towards becoming self-aware, crossing the unmeant road of isolation, covering the woods of resentment and pain, enduring dejection at consecutive steps; now I look back upon how far I have come, finally overcoming my failure. A failure that was meant to break me up, tear my spirit, loosen my will and rip apart what was left worth struggling in me, a failure which was more dreadful than it seemed, a failure that invited only desolation is now no more a failure to me, but a conquered path of hardships filled with learning. It is no joke for a fifteen-year-old student to detain in grade eleven because besides bringing a sudden shock to the parents, the child himself loses the resolution to grow any further. Yes, they called me a ‘failure’, standing in the doorway of my ‘new’ classroom, which was once theirs, my used to be fellow classmates laughed at me with the greatest sense of achievement in their gestures and silently humiliated me. With my head held down, I remember walking in the corridor of my school, being constantly subjugated by the notion of ‘not being enough’, sat silently on the days when my heart echoed in my mind and cried endlessly like a newborn when I felt enlightened to change my present state. Indeed, I grew, I rebuilt myself on the terms of accepting who I was in order to be who I am. Pain changes people, setbacks turn into comebacks, hardships become achievements and burning the midnight oil does pay off, only if one is willing to walk alone, at his own pace, practicing his own free will to risk whatever may come for the sake of fulfilling the goal; the goal that he gets to discover in the process of finding himself.
Indulged in my reverie, my footsteps went forth the lane, almost oblivious to the pebbles, for the bliss of connecting to my inner self reflected pure solitude. As the sun delivered a customary kiss to the horizon, I became conscious of introspecting the timelessness of our existence. The soberly ignited little flame of our soul’s existence is lightened up on the wax of life as long as the candle stands. Though it is completely unpredictable for when a fairly strong wind might blow away our well relied on ignited little flame of life in a fraction of a second, still with a profound belief we hope for the flame to keep diminishing the darkness. Conquering the eternal truth of our finite existence, we still tend to waste the crucial moments of life in swinging on the pendulum between past and future, worrying about the irreplaceable and unseen times, yet not living the either. My overflowing thoughts at the riverbank are a reflection of a stream of consciousness, such that apart from being sensitive towards my tangible existence, now I feel more inclined to grow, to live beyond the boundaries, explore the unexplored, to be grateful for the learned life lessons and eagerly wait to make more mistakes, endure more failures and to live feeling empowered before the flame of my life blows out.
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