Today is better than Yesterday...but, really?

This post is very dear to me...made me realise the difference between writing for yourself and writing for others...


Wouldn't it be absolutely wonderful to travel time? Well, in some sense we do, right? A Déjà vu, a coincidental familiarity, a fragrance, a behavior, a face, a body language, a color, an attire, an attitude, a tune, a photograph, some words, and most often, the work of an idle mind's perhaps devilish workshop. Just a trigger and our mind in all its capabilities has raced back in History, reminiscing 'the erstwhile'...

A close friend would often very rightly say, "The past always seems beautiful" during moments of bitter complaining about the current situation. Ever wondered why? Come to think of it, everyone equipped with logic would agree that the bygones seem rosy only in the context of a comparison. However in spite of this knowledge, we still like to take a leap in time and sit on a comfortable couch, viewing the events of the past on a huge LCD monitor of our minds, even if it makes us cry! Is it even worth it? Knowing that we will perhaps yearn for this present moment in the future, we still don't live in the present. All preachings and philosophies point towards the same direction - that of living in the moment, living every day as it comes, living for the present and not the past or the future. But then again, since when did the mind follow the simpler path? It has to be convoluted, something like the strong tendency of this universe to achieve the highest degree of entropy. Geeky, yes, but true! So why not forget about correcting or protecting ourselves from the complications of the mind for a while and marvel the natural penchant of this beautiful and unfathomable part of us?

I guess a considerable part of the person I am is defined by how much I live in yesterday. So much so that one moment I'm arguing with my mom on how much luggage she is carrying, and within a second crying over how I would miss every moment with her tomorrow. I mean that's not even nostalgia, that's preparing for nostalgia! Even though most often it makes me yearn for those moments and dream away rather than doing something productive, I still treasure the 'vintage goodness' associated with the feeling. For a modest contribution by what words can describe, I present to you a memoir of my favorite station in a journey to the past - that of the merlion city, the 'fine' city, Singa land, or how locals call it, Singapura!

Four years, or perhaps a lifetime. Seems like I didn't have enough of my first home away from home. Be it the extreme humid conditions or the bliss in riding MRT trains, any mention of this country brings a smile on my face and a dream in my eyes - a dream to go back there, to walk those streets of NUS again where I spent four years growing up. And literally growing up - from a 20 year old fresh out of the comforts of home, to a much hardened and seasoned person. Oh how I miss taking the twisted route every afternoon from Chemical Biology through the overhead bridge to Chemistry and then taking the elevator, crossing the NMR facility, and walking in the sun to reach Spinelli, its Cookie Spin waiting for me to be bought and relished...the evening snacking on spring rolls and veg paus along with Avocado milkshakes or Vegetarian Pesto in Megabites...the late nights in Kim lab and strolling on the extremely narrow and suicidal(!) balconies of the sixth floor labs in DBS, the 24-hour Cheese Prata and Dadi's shops feeding us hungry grad students middle of the night...the huge cup of Iced Milo and Bee Hoon along with Kaya bread in Jumbo cafe, near Block 21 Dover Crescent, a very important place in my life...bus no. 188 going to Harbor Front, where I would get off, cross the road and get into vivo city, the then biggest mall in Singapore, bus no. 33 taking me to China town, where I would get off at Pagoda Street and buy souvenirs for home...the road from Changi airport to home, where every tree would have its branches bent in the exact same angle along with every other artificial arrangement in the country (something I would bicker about all the time)...the bike path along the canal at the end of Clementi Avenue 4 where I had spent hours biking back and forth...the feeling of home on entering Kent Vale apartments, where I spent two years staying with my family...the walk from lab to Dover Road...the paranthas and gobi dinners at Dover aunty's shop...hours at Prof. Kim's place with Momo and Appukuttan...Starhub outlets...Ashish's laptop and blasting music...Roopsha's smiling face...Priya's home-cooked food...Anand's characteristic walk...the Karthik-Aysh-Gauri-Prasanna-Sheela group...the Graduate Congress dance practises...Lecture Theatre 20...the festive Bazaars in the canteens...Unmesh and our cups of chai...Suni-Suja...NUS Co-op...NUH canteen on days when Science canteen was closed...hair rebonding at Clementi...the bench outside Kim lab...50 cents coffee or coke...West Coast Park...Rangoli restaurant spelt as RangOOli...Shubhendro Chatterjee...Jade theatre for Hindi movies...Ray...a ray of hope...

<...trailing off...>

...a ray of hope...of reliving those moments, of going back there, and expecting EVERYTHING to be the same..and suddenly Mr. Reality knocks on your forehead waking you up from this bliss shouting, the only thing that is constant is change, don't forget that! All this is over...it can NEVER come back...even if I go back (which I am very soon by the way, so Singa-lings, prepare to party!!), the only thing that would be the same would be my mind and its memories. The people, the places, the activities...would have all moved on, even the buildings would bold out the words 'GUEST' as I enter them. I wouldn't belong there anymore, I would just be a visitor, making a visit - to the past. But...here is the catch - if we were really visiting the past, we would be traveling time, and that, to date, has not been achieved as possible. So are these experiences lost forever? Each and every minute of our life that goes by, do we lose them once and for all?

The answer, as you all would have intuitively guessed, is - nostalgia, a permanent possession, something no one can snatch away, and something no one can describe...just like the utmost jumbled-up likes of a paragraph I wrote in an attempt to present a memoir from my book of nostalgias. I'm sorry that the words above made no sense, they perhaps would seem unconnected even to the ones familiar with the terms, but that's my point. With all due respect to the heroes married to writing, and utmost acknowledgement towards the patient and considerate readers, I would say that the intricate beauty of the journey our minds take us through can NEVER be made justice to by the grandest of words or phrases, no matter how avid a writer one is. Not claiming to be anywhere close to an amateur in this field, I sign off, leaving you wonderful readers with a question for yourselves...Yes, sometimes living in the past is painful, but is it worth pushing away every reminiscence of your experiences in an attempt to live in the present and be happy? In the process, you may lose not only a possible new interpretation of your past that will help you grow, but also the only fossil of an experience that can never repeat itself in your life. Sometimes, dwelling in yesterday with its complete package of the good and the bad might have a secret role to play in shaping your present and future. Think about it :)