It's funny how sometimes when you recall something from years ago, it's almost like that person was someone else, although it was you.
The first time I heard Nothing Else Matters, it was back in 11th standard. It's funny to think of the kind of life I had then, and what I have now; what had been gained and lost and all that.
Although, to be honest, life now is - almost - as perfect as it could be (not quite perfect but close) it's always easy to feel nostalgic about the past. Even if life's been strictly increasing in terms of "happiness" or whatever, since then.
Maybe we are all a collection of once dead people, and reading/writing/listening is a way of getting them back to life. It is at times like these I wish I was in Delhi, but that might make me sad, because the Delhi I recall is gone now. If only we could combine the best of everything in life in one great year, would you want that?
I amuse myself here; Your amusement is intended but boundedly so
2 comments:
Nicely written. I like.
Thank you!
I was reading this bunch of essays by Orhan Pahmuk, and I suppose you can see a connection.
Or maybe not.
In any case, "Other Colours" is the name of the book, and there's one story in there about the death of his father which is very very touching.
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