the hourglass

As I wandered through the serpentine by-lanes of life, each of my footsteps seemed to find itself getting engulfed into a maze of sorts. I relied on memories and looked back at the bygone years to derive a cue from and to stride ahead; I unraveled a void- a magnanimous stretch of torturous void. Many a times I have looked up at the stars and asked a quiver full of – Whys and what ifs, and, the answer has always been just another equally evasive question. Hopes and dreams- the most innocuous of ambitions seemed to traverse through a self imposed change in identity. An identity- obnoxiously ambiguous
From keeping a piggy bank hidden below my bed to having my own bank account, the journey has been the same, yet different. I still remember I watched in pure admiration- the innocence of childhood, shielded from the cruel real word, by an array of kindness, rhapsody, laughter and honest faces as I walked back from school to an empty home with cold food kept on the table waiting for me. On the wall next to the table, there hung a picture I often said a subtle ‘hi’ to- a picture similar to one of those multitude of ‘kind’ faces. Times have changed, the essence hasn’t- I find myself in a clutter of obscure renditions of happiness and holding on to that same innocuous ambition to transform into a beloved reality