Memoir/20201223

By Ayush Jain

As I listen to East Harlem by Beirut, I think about how the past week

passed by. It is weird to think about the past, it passed in a way, that

now thinking about it seems like remembering something that never

happened.

Some of the very limited time, I have here, knowing that soon i will

be burnt to Ashes, and my remains buried into the ground,

replenishing into a plant, like the thousands one, the fruits of which

keep me alive every day. The song is beautiful, starting with the

imagery of a rose wilting, symbolising the time lost in a relationship

where 2 beings remain apart.

I have been working at an investment banking corporate for a while,

a firm good by all measures. I spend 10 hours a day earning my

bread. Interestingly, in a conversation with two of my college mates,

while having snacks at a nearby joint, I figured that my bread costs

no more than 1/5th of what I earn. Whatever more I earn, I don’t

know what to do about it. Buying stuff is not pleasure. Dining at

expensive eateries is more pretence than eating. Cooking is much

more joyous. I am earning in addition to what my father has

accumulated for me, hoping that one day I would accumulate more

for my sons and daughters.

The song ends with both of them relishing the sounds of their breath

in cold, thats the best they can do, they live too far away. It nows

plays on repeat. At the recent performance appraisals, my manager

wanted me to take more initiative, make a mark at a company that is

highly competitive but one with the right opportunities for the right

people.

I don’t understand why should I strive hard with the little time I

have for earning something that I don’t know how to spend. In the

evening I am driving, carefully, as I am still new at it. I observe a

thousand people moving towards their homes, everyone seemed so

sure of what they are doing. The image is a like a note that repeating

itself in a song that is more noise than music.

I come home, lie on my bed, thinking about the week that just

passed. It is almost seems as if it didn’t happen yet it leaves an

impression I can’t get away from. A day done, a week passed, a year

gone and 21 years which are never coming back? Sleeping today, I

have no idea, how tomorrow is going to be like.

By Ayush Jain