There used to be a tiny shore at Marine Drive, cut off from the rest of the famous Chowpatty Beach by a short stretch of land. It was accessible via a series of jagged stone steps. We used to go there as children to collect sea-shells, away from the crowds that thronged the more popular destination ahead. It was quiet and private and felt like a secret spot to hang out. I don’t know when we stopped going there or why but life has a habit of altering our daily routines in such a way that something we do every day also gradually fades into the background. Try though I do, by this age, I can’t wholly recollect all the experiences I had or the people I met. So much has changed since then. The memories I hold on to are only a handful and they have evolved with me to suit my current persona. They pop out when I want to make interesting dinner table conversation or on days when I want to feel nostalgic about my younger self. They are not as fresh as the present moment but are in fact tainted by it. The beach symbolizes the reality of my memories. It no longer exists, except in my imagination and I surprise myself sometimes by wondering if I dreamed it up.

A lot is being written about remaining in the present. Yet, there are days when the present is just too unbearable. On a larger scale we are living constantly with the news of an economic collapse, a war or another pandemic and on a smaller scale we tend to worry about the inconsequential minutiae of everyday life. I would like to enjoy the present but sometimes it just seems impossible to do that. I’m tethered to my routine that makes the day pass far too quickly, yet another day when I didn’t read the second chapter of a new book I bought, or worse, yet another day when I evaded sitting on my desk to update my blog. I sit mindlessly scrolling through my social media apps as I remain on hold, listening to a computer generated IVR as I make calls to banks, internet providers and technicians because (always, always) there is either a gadget that has stopped working or a KYC form that won’t upload or a Wi-Fi that is down. If there is a lull in my day I don’t know what to do with myself. I go scouring through my home to see if something needs attention. I’m not used to the present being this magical moment of existence, which is unperturbed by the past and unafraid of the future. The present for me is the planning and preparing of meals, the ringing of doorbells, the constant screening of calls from spammers and the struggle to make time for the things I like to do. If I have more time than I need I catch up with my anxiety which is something I definitely don’t need. So, it works to keep busy instead of luxuriating in the present.

I realized, however, that the future does reveal itself to us much earlier in our lives than we expect. Also, it’s subtle, the sign of who we are going to become. I used to write poetry as an eight-year-old but I left it on a back-burner as I pursued the more popular choices of marrying and raising a family. Many of our decisions are dictated by circumstances, yet, it is possible that I was not fully tuned in to my needs back then or self-aware. Now I know my strengths and weaknesses. Since then, I try to gather the images I used to visualize for myself so that they reassure me that we can plan, hope and dream. Much like the sea-shells I collected on that beach, these premonitions were scattered, but yet they gave me an inkling of the life I live at present. It sounds like a paradox but those are the memories I have of the future. Since then, I make it a habit to enjoy the few minutes of silence before I drift off to sleep to dwell on a better version of my life and myself. Our thoughts are alive and fluid. They can be moulded to suit our narrative. Somewhere in the future is a stronger, more resilient version of myself who doesn’t care about age or impending illness. I care about losing some of my habits that I detest and I care about nurturing the things I’m grateful for. After all, the past has been left behind on that phantom beach and the present is a chaotic flurry of activity. The future is wide and open and willing to accommodate contentment. Whenever I reach it, I want to say that I had known about it all along. If we pay attention and work towards it, the future is not as mysterious as we think it is. It has travelled with us in our sub-conscious. The uncertainty it poses depends on our ability to follow the glimpses.