The inspiration behind this short note is a musing which has occupied a fair amount of shelf-space in my clutter congested mind, no big idea this, just a gentle breeze of thought in the middle of a frenzied phase in life - A phase wherein days are busier than the doors of stores on mega-sales. A phase wherein the only memory of the day just passed is a fuzzy flash of events and activities of no clear implication.
Ever since I was juvenile I expected 25 to be an eventful age, and therefore anticipated reaching this milestone with an eccentric eagerness. Twenty five, I felt was the phase when one would expect himself to be established in life, treading on a clear path with the rest of life all figured and charted out. I must admit my fallacy – now that I’ve reached this milestone – It turns out that 25 is nothing but a pampered, over-acclaimed digit owing to its fancy appellations like “Silver Jubilee” “Quarter of a Century” and the likes.
Perhaps twenty five is simply an age, and not a milestone because its when you realize that henceforth life is pretty much the same – and all your fantasized perceptions of life were just an illusion – It’s time to get practical and pack your fantasies back into the closet. It’s certainly no surprise then that 25 just seem to be passing leaving no distinct memory or mark.
Twenty five, when the reminiscences of the college days are still afresh – where one could afford the luxury of being our individualistic self and not behave like factory line manufactured corporate drones. Twenty five, when extra large tubs of popcorn and fantasies on reel become the weapons to combat the mundanity of real life. Perhaps this is how I’ll remember my twenty five.
