The Funeral of Potential

The bloody alarm clock. That vile invention that rings not to wake one up, but to sadistically mock you. Everyday at 4am it screams, “Get up, my dear fellow, your dream life awaits,” and you .. a champion of comfort, slap it back into silence. And there, with a gentle thwack, your ambitions are postponed to next Monday.

This thought of mine is dedicated to every man and woman who ever snoozed their future by nine minutes. Repeatedly. Welcome.

I remember my classmate, Hafeez. He had talent. Charisma. And enough procrastination to power the bureaucracy of a small country.

He had once declared, mid-sip of chai, "I shall write the next great Indian novel."

He even bought a moleskine notebook and one of those fancy fountain pens that leak pride. But, the only thing I ever saw him write in that notebook was "Buy Onions" "Keep underwear out for ironing tonight" "Buy Agarbatti(incense sticks)".

Every time I asked him why he didn't start writing, he said, "I just need the right time."

"What time zone does your ambition live in, Hafeez?" He didnt laugh. Because deep down, he knew. He knew what all them TED talk speakers meant by : Carry your own damn cross. Not just becasue Jesus did it. But because somebody has to carry your crap, and it might as well be you.

So, Hafeez did what most of us do. He became the worst version of himself. Comfortable. Cynical and a Phd. in making excuses sound philosophical. It really boils down to one question.

What is the heaviest thing you'll ever carry?

It's not your mother-in-law's suitcase through the aiport with no trolleys in sight. It's also not the guilt of eating that 'Four cheeses pasta from Cheesecake factory', when you told yourself you'd stick to salads.

No, my nanba (friend).

The heaviest weight is a thought. The treacherous lingeirng kind .. (that follows you home, like the annoying stench of smoke from that chronic fag-ger at your bus-stop): "I could have been more."

Not in a delusional way, like "I would have been the next Brad Pitt if only I moisturised more." But in this real-life, ugly, personal sort of way: "I know what I needed to do, but I didnt do it". Its that terrible knowledge that you’re not doing what it takes to get there.

The skipped gym. The unsent application. The call you avoided. The beer you didn’t need. The truth you ran from. To me, Life is not some grand event, its like a series of tiny negotiations. Every day I need to wake. up and meet myself.

I've seen many people die. Some form illness, some from heartbreak, and some from marriage(dont qoute me on that).

But the saddest ones die long before the body gives up. They die when they give up on the idea of who they could be. You can survive without being rich, influential or famous. But it's hell on earth to love nowing you could have been something more .. and chose instead to scroll reels of cooking hacks at 2am, that would never see the light of day.

I had given up casual-drinking for a month. (It was February, a short month .. Let's not get too excited.)

I did it not because I had some problem (though my liver would vehemently disagree), but becasue I wanted to prove I could choose to suffer a little for something better.

And you know what? I hated every minute of it. But by eveningm while sipping lukewarm green tea and pretending it was tolerable, I realized something: Discipline is just choosing your pain.

Either the pain of doing the thing .. or the pain of not becoing the man you know you could be.

Choose wisely, I say. And please, for the love of all that is holy.. dont let it be some Tiktok or Instagram feed, that raises your inner child.

In the end, I reflect.

Be the man you were afraid to admit you could become. Or you'll spend the rest of your life explaining to yourself why you didn't.