the weekend was good.
after a long time, i spent an entire saturday reading (ghalib, ghazals, poetry, prose, magazines, textbooks); sleeping (it feels great when you can just drop off to sleep anytime you want, you are reading, sleep comes over, you close the book softly and off you go with her); getting bored with tv (only one movie worth my time, ‘the longest penalty kick in the world’ on where else, but world movies); eating home made food; getting bored with nothing to do; after a long time i spent saturday as i should 🙂 just one regret, couldn’t write anything worthwhile, lots and lots of things going round n round in mah little mind but nothing to write! had to pace up and down the room for nearly forty five minutes before sleeping at one ‘o clock.
sunday was a little more hectic, weekend chores (that keep piling on because of erratic office hours); keeping in touch with friends (through sms only); and yes, the first guitar class 🙂 dee had gifted me a beautiful guitar this birthday as i kept sighing for one, and it took me more than three months to actually enroll and start learning. already have a favourite song request from her and one birthday singing contract from swati to which she’ll pay me with lots of love i presume. this, when am still learning the first steps errr strings. ladies sure come with high expectations these days.
and then the monday blues, stayed late in the office till eleven, reached home after twelve, and by the time i could try some strumming, was completely dazed with sleep. still, practiced till one, then dozed off with guitar clutched in one hand resting on my tummy, got up at one thirty, carefully kept the guitar away and slept properly.
tuesday seems to be heading the same way.
it is my hagrid’s birthday today and in between all this i forgot to wish her 🙁
i just hope she forgives me.
and this brings me to the title.
just came around to the thought that how many springs, summers, rains or winters am i going to see in this life. maybe thirty, maybe sixty. but when i actually counted the number of times i’m going to enjoy my favourite season of spring, say sixty till i leave at an age of ninety, they seem much less than the age of ninety actually sounds. see, one season will only come once in a year, and i’ve already been through twenty seven springs.
a little discomforting. of all the seasons, how many am able to enjoy, to realise that they won’t be coming again, ever. how precious these januaries and februaries and septembers and octobers are? where am i running too? and for what? what the hell am i doing with my life?
tell me, do you feel the same too? how many springs have you got, left in your life?