A.R.Ts (128) - My Round up of 2014

Year ends make me restless. About all the things I didn't get done. The unfinished notes on my IPad. The exercise regime I never followed. The deadlines I missed. Another year that I didn't chase my dream.

I have often wondered if mine was a life that got lost in translation. Semantically correct, but never fully understood. The words were right, but the meaning never got conveyed. The feeling gets intensified when the year is closing in on me. Almost like I should've actually been somewhere else. Doing something else.

2014 was a year where I added a couple of years into my life. Maybe it was the catching up for all those years I tried stalling the onslaught of the much dreaded mid life. The white hair became more stubborn in their refusal to hide. The balding scalp kept scheming to let me down in my Instagram moments. My stylist exhausted her recommendations for volumnising shampoos and bouncy haircuts.

I perfected the art of schmoozing around in a party with a single glass of wine all night, convincing everyone that it was actually the third. From the conversation to the flat stomach - I learnt to fake it all. I could auction off the innumerable power point presentations I made, and feel miserable about their worth in life.

I gave up on balance, and gave in to trade offs. For every night I partied, there was a morning of a missed long run. For every vacation I took, there was a pile up of emails that cracked me. I weighed, I chose. I survived. Friendships became a little like that mulled wine - a concoction of flavours running deep, the sweet fruity tones overpowering the mild bitterness, the mixture simmering steadily beside me, keeping my spirits high, as I went about my life.

My relationship with Time was tumultuous and violent. We were both at our infidel best, me - busying myself with distractions when he was all there for me, and he - failing to appear when I needed him the most. Like that couple who desperately needed each other, but weren't willing to offer any commitment or loyalty to the relationship. It was my biggest heartbreak.

Back home after a really tough work week, I put my feet up on the bed, and ask Mom, "Can I be happier with less?" She is quick to answer with a firm "Ofcourse yes. When I was working I bought two saris a month. After I quit, I didn't buy a sari for two years." There is no sense of sadness or longing as she says it. On the contrary, there is a pride, one that comes with making tough decisions, and having the patience to see them bear fruit.

I say good night and switch off the lights. There is something very comforting about a mildly chilly winter night, when you are in your bed huddled in your soft-as-butter blanket, willing the cold away. The darkness allowing you to embrace the choices you made. Enveloping you in its warmth. Reminding you that you gave it your best. Happiness, sadness, right, wrong, less, more - it all blurs into something bigger and hazier, something that doesn't want to be touched, felt or even named. I could have called it Life. But not yet, it's telling me.

And that's when it strikes me. Maybe my life wasn't lost in translation after all. I just need to stay the course. A little longer.

Happy New Year, my lovely readers. I hope you read this and remember to keep going. And I want you know you have kept me going though this year. To many more. Amen.