Breakfast Babble: ED’s own little space on the inter-webs where we gather to discuss ideas and get pumped up for the day. We judge things too. Sometimes. Always. Whatever, call it catharsis and join in people.
Ah, Sunday mornings. The beautiful prospect of sleeping till 9 in the morning, stretching till 11 and yawning till well past the afternoon. Except, I never had much of a Sunday morning as a kid. Why? Well, church.
Waking up at 6 in the morning for church busts your sleep and sure, I learnt to doze in church too but, I would always prefer to sleep in silence, rather than having to shut out the choirs and church organs.
But, that was as a kid. Am I getting my Sunday sleep now, you ask? (Well, you probably haven’t but listen, this BB won’t work if you guys don’t participate).
The answer is, not quite. Why? I honestly don’t know why. I have been here in the UK for the past 9 months now, studying for my Master’s degree. And although the curriculum and schedule have been a tad tough, it isn’t something an undergraduate who had over 40 exams, Vivas, and assignments in law school cannot manage. Even the dissertation is something I don’t think I’ll lose much sleep over.
I look at my mirror these days and I don’t see the face I remember having. The pupils are darker than I remember, small strands of white hair grow by the week (no wonder my mother wants me to marry early) and my brow is more lined and furrowed than ever. And that is when I realize that yes, I am growing old.
Also read: Am I Mature Yet?
I don’t celebrate birthdays, not only because I didn’t see the point to celebrating it but, also because it is IMO, a needless celebration of growing old. Even when I did celebrate birthdays, it was only because I was behind on my annual photography session, an event where a rare species (yours truly) is photographed in his natural habitat.
Fact is, I’m growing old. The hair, the pupils, the strained forehead, the loss of sleep for no particular reason is all evidence of that. And, I’m not okay with it yet. And I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I live in a country where Accuweather is permanently set to ‘Rainy’ or because I am tired of people recommending me to eat bland fish ‘n’ chips. Or maybe it’s because I have never before felt the expectation to actively pursue an independent, working life as I do now.
Whatever the reason, I am not okay with growing and feeling old. I don’t miss Sunday mornings. No, not really because even when we didn’t go to Church, I would wake up early to watch Mahabharata and the Bournvita Quiz Contest.
What I do miss is being young. Being in school, being in college, coming home to my wonderful parents, playing fetch with Boomer, passing notes between random people, running away with the bat when dismissed, everything.
I hate the fact that these days are behind me and yes, I realize that age is irreversible. So is life. And the future is probably rosy but, you have no idea what I would give to go back in time and have one of those days. Maybe then I’ll be as excited for Sunday mornings, or any morning for that matter, as this guy.
Image Sources: Google Images
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