Echoes from a Simpler Time

Dil dhoondta hai phir wahi fursat ke raat din..." (Once more, my heart yearns for those leisurely days)

The familiar tune played softly in the background as I leaned against the window, watching the gentle sway of new leaves on the branches outside. Spring had arrived in Boston, draping the town in fresh greens and soft blossoms. The air smelled of renewal - of the earth waking up, of flowers daring to bloom again. Yet, as the breeze carried the scent of rain-soaked soil and the distant hum of birdsong, something inside me stirred.

My mind drifted, wandering back to the days when life was simpler, when time stretched endlessly, unburdened by responsibility. I closed my eyes, and suddenly, I was there again—back in the warmth of my childhood home.

It was a different world then. Long summer afternoons were spent lying on the cool marble floors, listening to the ceiling fan hum its lazy tune. On monsoon evenings, when the scent of wet earth filled the air, I would sit by the window, counting raindrops on the glass. Those were nights of absolute leisure- where laughter echoed in dimly lit rooms, where the soft flicker of candlelight danced against the walls during power cuts, and where time was measured not in deadlines but in the gentle rhythms of a slow, unhurried life.

Back then, I had no reason to chase time- it was always there, waiting for me, moving at my pace. I remember the quiet joy of nighttime conversations, the way we would sit on the terrace, looking up at a sky unspoiled by city lights, weaving stories out of constellations. There was music in the background- always music. The old radio played timeless Hindi Bollywood songs, my mother humming along as she folded laundry, my father lost in thought as he flipped through a well-worn newspaper.

Sometimes, we spoke. Sometimes, we didn’t. But the silence was never empty; it was rich with comfort, with presence, with understanding.

And yet, somewhere along the way, life changed.

The world sped up. Leisure became a luxury. Days started feeling too short, yet somehow, nights grew longer- not in the way I had once cherished them, but in the restless tossing and turning of thoughts refusing to quiet down. The simplicity of slow evenings was replaced by screens, schedules, and responsibilities.

Even now, in the silence of my own home, surrounded by everything I had once wished for, my heart still longs for those moments.

"Woh fursat ke raat din..." (those leisurely days)

I sighed, watching the petals from a nearby cherry blossom drift lazily to the ground. Perhaps that’s the thing about nostalgia- it’s not just a longing for the past but for the feeling of being unburdened within it.

Still, maybe there was hope. Maybe, in the quiet beauty of a spring evening, in the scent of fresh rain, in the warmth of an old song playing softly in the background, I could find glimpses of that lost leisure once again.

For now, I let the song play. Some nights, the best way forward is to allow yourself to look back- just for a little while.