Perennial pain of life

Life is strange and strange are its ways of recounting the much-folded obscurities. The unusual lessons taught are usually surprising, immensely bitter and hard to digest. Every time any hardship transpires, we resist, we express resentment, we feel intensely miffed, yet we eventually accept the brazen reality as it dances before us like the swings of unstoppable clock. The ugly truth and the blatant facts teach us that any bad experience can’t have a smooth transition from despondency to contentment.

Life is a pendulum of epic struggle having a chain of invisible obstacles. We are continuously trying to tide over the crisis with diverse experiences, but we still get caught in its dark smoke. At times, it is miserable and the next moment it seems wonderful. In a moment of eagerness, life debunks the best of the times; it divulges the worst of the eras. We cannot comprehend extreme high without experiencing the extreme low. Life doesn't work on a scale of 1 to 10, it ebbs and flows. A step forward reverts in a step back, and vice versa. we can’t control what happens to us in our lives, but we can always control what we will feel and do about what happens to you. The fact remains that there is always so much good in the worst of the experiences and so much bad in the best of the experiences. So, we need to always embrace its each swing with all hearts. The chaos is why it works.

However, regrets and expectations are the twin forces that shape the contours of my journey. One looks back, tracing the footsteps left behind, heavy with the weight of what could have been. The other gazes forward, fuelled by visions of what might yet become, fragile but full of longing. Between these two lies the paradox of my existence caught in the aching tension between memory and hope, between despair and ambition.

My regrets whisper to me, a quiet but relentless echo of missteps, missed opportunities, and the times I chose comfort over courage. They remind me of moments when I let fear hold my hand, when I silenced the voice of my spirit to follow the noise of the world. They speak of relationships left unresolved, dreams I was too timid to chase, and truths I failed to honour. These regrets are not mere shadows of the past; they are living, breathing reminders of my fallibility and my humanity.

Yet even amidst this weight, my expectations rise a fragile yet luminous force. They are born from the unshaken belief that I can still be more than the sum of my past mistakes. My expectations hold the vision of a life untainted by compromise, where purpose shines brighter than distraction and where I am not shackled by the chains of materialism or shallow validation. They remind me that, despite the wreckage, the horizon is still vast and full of possibility.

But here is where the journey of life becomes most tormenting: our regrets often cloud our expectations. The burdens of yesterday tether us, making it hard to rise to the call of tomorrow. And yet, it is in this very struggle this tension between what was and what could be that I find the essence of our humanity. To feel regret is to admit that we have lived, that we have cared enough to mourn our mistakes. To hold expectations is to confess that we still believe in the beauty of life as it is unfolding.

Philosophically, I wonder if our regrets and expectations are not two opposing forces, but two parts of the same truth. Perhaps our regrets exist not to anchor us in deep sorrow but to point us toward transformation. Perhaps our expectations are not simply aspirations but the whispers of our soul, reminding us of our highest potential.

And so, as we walk this path laden with the weight of yesterday and the hope of tomorrow, we must learn to hold both with grace. To allow our regrets to teach me humility and our expectations to fuel our perseverance. Perhaps, in this delicate balancing act, we will find not answers but meaning. For it is not the absence of regret or the fulfilment of expectation that defines a life, but the courage to keep walking despite both.

Once we make entry into this cosmetic world—a day that is both significant and fleeting. Yet, we believe that life does not limit us to a single day of birth. In truth, we are born in every moment, with every breath we take, every lesson we learn, and every truth we unlearn. Life is an eternal cycle of discovery and rediscovery, a ceaseless journey of refinement and growth in both body and soul.

But as I reflect today, I cannot ignore a disquieting truth—one that has lingered in the quiet corners of my heart. I am not what I once aspired to be. Nor am I the innocent, wide-eyed version of myself I once was. Time, with its unrelenting pace and brazenness has stripped away much of my youthful sincerity, pious thoughts and pure intentions. We celebrate maturity and reason, yet I find myself drifting toward selfishness rather than selflessness, toward a shallow self-centeredness rather than profound self-awareness.

This realization cuts deep. It is not merely a moment of self-awareness but an unsettling awakening. My spiritual aspirations, once burning bright, have grown dim, eclipsed by the blinding glare of materialism and the hollow promises of modernity. The path I once envisioned has blurred, replaced by a road I never meant to travel. I feel trapped, caught in a well so deep it seems impossible to climb out—a well filled with doubt, regret, and a sense of spiritual estrangement. And yet, even in this darkness, I dare to hope. I cling to the possibility of redemption, to the belief that there is still light beyond this shadow. I call upon the Infinite, the Divine, the Source of all wisdom, to guide me, to lift me, to awaken within me the strength to overcome these obstacles.

May this moment of reckoning be the first step toward becoming what I am meant to be. Not merely what the world demands, but what my soul yearns for—a life of sincerity, purpose, and transcendence. May the greatest hand of all pull me out of this depth and into the light of a better self. Today, as on every day, I am born anew. Let this birth be one of hope, faith, and transformation and let me conclude my ugly thoughts and rotten regrets with these hauntingly beautiful verses, etched with the weight of sorrow and the echoes of an aching soul. Each word, a whisper of longing; each line, a tear that time refuses to dry. May these verses carry the depth of emotions that words often fail to hold, resonating with the silent cries of the heart and the unspoken pain that lingers in the quiet corners of our existence.

“Kuch lutt gaya kuch luta diya, Kuch mitt gaya kuch mita diya.

Zindagi ne kuch yun aazmaya hamein, Kuch chinn gaya kuch gawa diya”.

The author is an MBA Marketing & Finance from the University of Kashmir and is presently working in a reputed MNC as an Associate Director & Head.