by Sudha Dixit

Time flies. Sometimes it crawls – when we are in distress. It, seemingly, does not move when we are unable to sleep. At times it ambles when things are, simply, so so – just average. It runs when we are happy. We wish for it to stop so that we may relish the joy for some more time; but it keeps moving – a little faster. During better days it flies with high wind under its wings.

The year 2021 was exacting. We were distraught; confined to home. I tried to make the best use of the moments that refused to move or moved at a snail’s pace. My love of books came to my rescue. I had all the time, in the world, to read. All the precious tomes that were looking at me from behind the glass panes of almirah, resentfully. They were my companions during my solitary moments. They never let tedium encompass me. When I was tired of reading (eye-ache or monotony that saddens me), I picked up a pen and started writing.

I never missed the literary or glamourous outings. I was rather happy and relieved to be spared the stress of dressing up and trying to be punctual to reach the venue. Those were moments well spent.

To be truthful there were sad incidents too. I lost some dear ones. Living in past memories was a glorious pastime but bearing the pain of losing contemporary friends was intolerable. Still, life goes on; just as time flows on. The year 2021, too, has almost come to an end. It’s on its last legs. At whatever velocity it moved, it has reached the finale. Now is time for me to welcome the new year. The year 2022. Hope it brings much-sought freedom from tedium and melancholy. To happy festivities.

About the Author:

Sudha Dixit is a writer and poet. She currently lives in Bangalore and had a career in real estate spanning over 15 years. She is a graduate of Aligarh Muslim University, Luknow University and Banaras Hindu University. Her articles and poems frequently appears in various online journals and magazines.