Do we, really?
Sometimes, I realize that life is not what they promised in a 90s sitcom. It is not about spending evenings with friends, working on a regular job with good pay, or having the family together for dinner on holidays. It’s not always like that. We live in a weird time where socializing has an entirely different meaning than it used to be, and it is okay.
We are living with it.
An age, in which we tag friends on Facebook posts, publish random selfies on Instagram, which I bet no one cares about in reality, other than your mother, spouse. Or maybe if you’re a hot yoga instructor, some loafers.
But what really does matter?
Today I’ll speak about that one unlucky day that we all need and deserve and if you’re lucky enough to evade such thing. Then think again.
The Worst time
Sometimes I think, when was the last time I felt free. Free from things that are occupying me. My work, habits, living in a place with dense, poor air quality index, and so on.
And to my surprise, I have not.
Yes, every morning, I stretch, breathe, and give my mind some headspace, but what about the rest of my day.
You must know this; there are various programs from psychologists, that might help you recover from something you have no control over. A natural disaster, a terrorist attack, the death of someone close, hatred in humanity, and the list goes on.
We cannot control everything, and just improving ourselves is not always helping. Sometimes it’s just plain hard and frustrating. What to do?
I get a similar feeling now and then. It’s not easy growing up in a middle-class family in a metropolitan city. A lot of things come to mind, lots of corrupted thoughts, and even more, the responsibilities waiting to fracture the shoulders (metaphorically.)
What do I think about during the time that breaks most of us? How do I stand intact, with no unnecessary worry for the inevitable?
I have found a solution.
And although with no scientific research backing me up on this, I can claim:
We all need one bad and unlucky day from the past.
That day to help us move on.
That day, to fuel us and tell us that if we could survive that sick of a day, we can survive anything.
That bad day, to kick asses of our slightly lesser worse days from the present.
Recently (2017), I’ve gone through a rough time; I left my job, quit my hobbies, binge-watched television. And all for nothing.
No particular reason, at all.
I didn’t do much productive throughout my days, which I promised myself and planned prior many days. I planned, and I failed.
Not many things can upset or disappoint me, but of course, I am not immune to that. That’s one of the biggest flaws we can observe in a human being. We fluctuate a lot.
So, I relive that one day in my mind, whenever I am feeling low.
I was 18 years old when it all happened, and although that would not count as misery but still, for a teenager: it was a disaster.
I woke up early as a bird, spreading wings broadly. It was my college fest. I was a freshman, and I could not wake up happier. Why would I not be? I was about to ask my girl-friend to be my girlfriend. And it seemed like a perfect plan at that time. You might have anticipated what I am about to say, but I bet you. You’re not correct. Almost.
See, I forgot my wallet that day, and my college was 35 miles from my home. I had to take a free train-ride back, illegal commute. That day, I was supposed to deliver my life’s first anchoring performance in front of two thousand people: people with whom I have had to spend three college years. I prepared my speech on paper, carelessly avoiding remembering my lines. I hated cramming and reading from paper.
No, I was not nervous; instead, I felt excited to be on stage. Sky with a perfect amount of sunny and cloudy. Valentine’s day was next month, and you could see the red of love in the air. I was happy.
My girl-friend asked me to bring chocolate, which, by the way, I bought the most expensive from the shop even though I had no extra cash to reach back home. I was in love. A stupid, dumb, ignorant piece of…Well.
I was happy and came; 2 pm.
The Unholy 2 pm.
I was about to anchor on stage in a couple of hours.
The plan was to stand calmly, introduce myself to my college crowd for the first time, with my real name, which I use nowhere, and that was the first time I faced the limelight.
Couples were gathering in the garden, and it was a perfect moment for me to confess my love to the girl. I excused my best friend and took her on the sidewalk with a rose in my hand.
It was the perfect evening. Every piece of my little puzzled life was falling into places until I asked her to be my valentine next month.
See, laughter is the best response in most of the situations, but this wasn’t one of them.
Laughing off when someone dares their heart to tell you their insides, can crush them to pity-particles.
I felt the same. I used to be happy-go-lucky with no care. So, I did not take that on a personal level and laughed with the girl.
Although my laughter faded quickly, as I saw another guy approaching the girl with chocolate in his left hand as he passed that to the girl and greeted. I was crushed. Why that guy is getting her chocolate too. She asked only me, didn’t she?
I was still not crushed. I inhaled my anger. It was a burn, and I took it like a gentleman.
A gentleman with a crying heart.
My heart was stabbed and slashed into 40 pieces as some of her classmates, most of them being guys came and each handed chocolates to the girl. The only thought that supported my feet to stay standing was: I gifted her the most expensive one. Felt like a loser later, but that’s unrelated.
I was on the verge of shedding tears like a baby, but somehow I kept my calm and decided to walk alone to the canteen. On my way, I saw some people weeping and singing over something. Of course, it was a college festival, and everyone was in the mood. But this seemed unusual, so I asked one of them what’s wrong. I was told about the results that were announced earlier that day, and they were not good. Our university had decided to ruin our fest.
I instantaneously checked my result of last semester, and I was failed.
In fact, I failed four out of six subjects.
Tasting rejection is one thing, but the icing of failure on this bitter cake was something more… well, more than adequate.
I was pretty average in academics, but still failing a semester was a big deal for me at that time. I could not control the tears. But I still managed to weep inside my heart. I did not know how I would face my parents later that day. Two thundershocks in 15 minutes. God must be pleased with me.
After hearing my result, some of my friends, intelligent friends at that, gathered around me and offered their consolation. Although they did not mean ill, I was half furious at them too. Somehow I managed to get my will up and reached the stage as the time was about to begin. One of the biggest days of my life. I was to introduce an impressive entrance to the college festival. I was ready to stand up there as I pulled the piece of paper from my jeans pocket.
I still love rainy days.
It poured a river from the sky that day. But only for like 30 minutes.
My paper soaked and damaged from the water, and I had nothing to speak from.
Anchors in school and colleges usually speak from some notes, and as this was my first show, I felt the meaning of being so much screwed.
I thought I hit rock bottom, but hey, It was only 4 pm. I would go to the hospital later, but I’ll get to that in a minute.
My co-anchor pushed me to the stage, and as she spoke her name (surprisingly, she had to read that as well from her sheet of paper. People ought to remember their names) and looked at me with Juliet’s love. I stared at the crowd for a second. I tried hard but couldn’t make a face from these two thousand people. Hard to recognize when a blinding flash is showering your face.
I kept mum for a couple of seconds before I screeched on the mic – “Hello Rockstars!!!!!!” with my full might.
And to my surprise, everyone responded with a cheer and hoot.
I knew this day is messed up already, what could possibly go wrong? I won’t forget some dope jokes I prepared for the show. Guess what?
I started with a joke and midway forgot the ending. People were laughing. Not at my joke but at me. Somehow I manage to finish my thirty minutes and left the stage. And the college.
As I walked on the highway outside my college, crying, I called my best friend, who was too busy to attend me.
I felt lonely and destroyed.
I just wanted to leave the place. And was not sure if I wanted to go home. How would I tell my family that I failed?
And yes, I had no money on me. Let’s not forget that as well.
That was my worst day. In life. At that time.
I boarded a passenger train without a ticket in the hope that I would not get caught. I took a seat on the door. Yes, the door.
My feet were swinging in the air, and I was still trying not to cry. It felt good, and this was the first time I was commuting on a train from college. But I felt terrific. Fresh wind, evening shade in the sky, and rainy weather, which I always loved.
I was lost in my thoughts. It felt like a meditation of some sort. My nerves were finally calmed from the day. Until my left foot caught between the platform.
I suddenly withdrew my foot. A couple of seconds late, and it would have been ripped from my torso as they show in the movies. I felt a rush in my foot. I screamed.
Not from the pain but from the fear of getting handicapped for the rest of my life.
Ticket checker heard my scream and came running. He asked for the ticket which I did not have and threw me at the next station.
I could feel the internal bleeding on my leg. Unable to do anything.
I somehow managed to reach home that day and hospital as soon as the doctor confirmed an awful wound below my thigh muscle and ankles.
I slept in hope for a bright sun the next day, which I got. Bad time passes, and my worst day was over like that.
Next day and so on
I have faced some bad days after that, but I never cried again. I knew if I could survive something like that, I could do anything. Yes, of course, I anchored a dozen events within months after that day. I also passed that and the following semesters. And my wound was healed.
Sometimes, you would face those worst days, but as they say, it is a bad day. Not a bad life.
I know, whatever happens, would make me better. And that’s the case for you too.
I usually don’t share things like this, but it was due. Darker days are ahead or passed, but you need more light inside your heart.
And never, ever try any foolishness as I did of sitting on the train gate. Most of that worst day was because of my own ignorance and stupidity.
Read my poem before you leave Lost Soul.