Being late in life is an awful feeling. Sometimes I am late due to my own procrastination. I admit. But sometimes things just don’t happen in time. This reminds me a story which roughly goes like that:
There a young man once, who falls in love. Their love flourishes like the typical, non-physical, rooftop, summer romance. At the end of vacation she leaves for her city with dreams of their union in her eyes. The man hesitantly talks to his mother. She agrees and by the time she takes the proposal to the girl’s family she finds her to be already engaged to one of her cousins.
The man grows out of his youthful romance as well as salad days and begins a job hunt. He manages to get an interview for the job that he always dreamt of. Due to sheer excitement and anxiety he sleeps close to dawn. Gets up late and misses his bus. When he reaches the office all the interviews were already done and his humble plea to let him in for an interview falls on deaf ears.
He grows old, lying on his bed paralyzed with mind as active as ever. His front wall becomes a virtual screen where he keeps seeing snippets from his past. One day he overhears his yelling 12-year old grandson who wants to have his own room, instead of a shared one with his grandfather in the crowded joint family house. The tears stream down the old man’s wrinkled face when he thinks rather a heartrending thought that he is late as ever even in embracing the death.
So do you ever feel being late for anything in life? Do you ever feel if you had made it a little earlier things would have been different and better in your life?
PS: The above (in fact an incomplete) story I quoted is one of my own when I used to write in Urdu.