It Doesn’t Matter

Because in the end, nothing matters.

Feels awkward, to start the day with a thought like that. But it’s a bitter fact. Nothing matters. In the end. Not the people we choose to hold hands in church with, not the kind of soup we pick at the supermarket, or the lifestyle that we adopt.

But, sad enough, it all matters. Now.

And like it or not, we live in the now. We think ahead — humans are weird that way — and save for the future. Save money, save the journeys we’d like to make, save everything. We save ourselves now, hoping to take up life later  on— in future.

But in the end, nothing matters. In future, once I’m dead and gone, it doesn’t matter that I had once smoked pot in school. But oh, it matters so much when I’m in school.

But, which matters to us more; the future, or this moment?

Sometimes, even thinking about it is meaningless. Because it won’t matter to me at the end of this post. But mid-way, it matters a lot. Not only because it’s giving me something to ramble about, but also because my decision now affects the course of my life.

This moment matters to me. The small choices matter. Like choosing to read alone, instead of throwing myself into a crowd of college kids drunk on their parents’ money. I know it won’t matter later. That’s why it matters now. Because it’s trivial. And short-lived. Because I’ll never get to make these choices again. I hold on to the things that matter to me now, because when I get to a point when nothing would matter anymore, I would remember these little choices.

Because, after all, even the death bed is just a moment. And then, it would be the now.

Rediscovering Wheels

Remember the time when the Internet was loaded with teasers like, ‘when are you going to start living?’ and ‘when was the last time you did something for the first time?’ ?(love that, by the way)

Well, today I did something for the first time — in about 10 years. It’s not as noteworthy as ‘I broke my brother’s toy car and ran before he could catch me,’ or anything fancy like ‘I paraglided without hugging on to the back of an instructor,’ — but mine is pretty special too.

I rode a bike.

Or as I’d rather say, I rediscovered wheels! Oh, and the joy of it! It was an unforgetable thrill to ride on as the wind pushed me opposite the direction in which I pedaled. Still, it felt so good to experience the rush of adrenaline through my veins and the sweat tracing my forehead.

I hadn’t got on a bike for ages. And I was a little worried about making a fool of myself. That’s why I chose the early morning to try it out — when there would be fewer people to see me picking up the bike from the ground.

Anyway, after a couple of falls and plenty of curvy and insecure twists, I managed to look straight and align my arms with the bike’s handle bars.

And then there was no looking back. I went round and round. I realized my love for riding. And I didn’t want to stop. My mouth opened in laughter — in spite of myself. The people around spoke to themselves, some smiled and some even waved. And I managed to wave back without falling!

Now this is a day worth remembering. Or capturing!

rediscovering wheels

This Thing Called Irony…

irony

Bob Propst had some nerve saying what he did. We all like our ‘personal space,’ but when that space becomes the office cubicle, we have nothing else to do than to watch the world pass by. How pathetic and how true.