The leaves are falling, turning red, then a deeper shade of brown. Suddenly, the bursts of scorching heat have started receding, taking a step back. The season of blossoming is over, and that makes me really question: Does the end of summer really feel like the end of opportunities?
It’s intriguing how the transition to this patjhad-wala-mausam feels disturbingly like an ending. Yes, the optimists will call it a new beginning. But you’ll rationally agree that every beginning requires an end, a pause, a split, a turning point. And so, I’ve come to realise that like the leaves that dry up in Autumn, I notice our minds drying up too. We are slowly giving up until January brings along a fresh start. Accepting the fate that this year has been able to provide us with. The end of another annum of opportunities; some that we could make use of, and many that we lost out on.
After all, I’ve always wondered why the end of summer carries this heavy feeling, as if the world has decided that the time for making an impact has slipped through your fingers.
And yet, as I read Rainer Maria Rilke’s Autumn Day tonight, I realize that maybe it’s not the opportunities themselves that end — it’s just a season asking us to prepare for what’s next.
