#DaySix

“A man who has nothing to do with his own time has no conscience in his intrusion on that of others.”

-Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

I write this post at the risk of sounding extremely cliché, thanks to the bloom of overly sentimental Facebook and Instagram pages, but be assured, my readers; do not doubt the sincerity behind these words and the passion with which I approach today’s theme. And pardon me if you feel a sudden change in my writing style and do not feel convinced of it, for the stars have finally aligned to commence the holy ritual named ‘The Austenian Abbey’ around which I look forward to digress our discussion very soon.

Having taken the decision of pursuing engineering entirely on my own, I readily shoulder the responsibility of all the vices and virtues that came with it. Though I won’t deny the immense capability it has developed within me to take on any role required of me—as my fellow comrades would agree upon—, it has certainly left me with this overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, the form of which I am unable to put my finger on.

And therefore, this quarantine certainly comes as a blessing in disguise, for (except the task of final year project being the only unpleasant chore) it has finally given me the break I needed to engage with myself and to see if I am ‘fine’. There are no more hangovers in morning; the minimum eight hour sleep rule is being obeyed at last; all the morning positivity stays with me until the evening, free being subjected to the dreadful rush hour of Mumbai lifeline as in the past and failing to sustain itself through it. Every cell of my being does not complain anymore of not feeling alive, much thanks to the persuasion power of my alter ego to put them through some grind. The classics which ones stirred all kinds of emotions my naive heart was unaware of are being revisited, in an attempt to rekindle them. Occasional visits to the Shishuvarga-Balvarga report cards, a KBC notebook in which I used to note down all KBC questions, remnants of earlier ventures into literature, writing & the Japanese language, the gifts from my teachers and the underlying messages—all—remind me of the dreams I had once sketched for the future me and fill me with a newfound surge of life energy.

Spirituality has never been my area of expertise; I can say having dared to grasp its meaning through some accidental reads. Nor do I possess any aspirations to succeed in defining it. But, isn’t this journey of unravelling the sense and sensibility riddled as spirituality itself?! I now fear of sounding too pretentious, possibly at the expense of my readers’ approbation. So I will allow myself to take your leave for the day in hopes of continuing this amiable affair tomorrow, hoping you still bear with me.