Lost

I did not realize that I was lost. It did not hit me suddenly; it began quietly. It was as if there was something missing, like a step missing in a staircase. It is something we don’t notice till our foot searches for something familiar. My days were the same-I woke up in the morning each day, got ready, had my breakfast, and went to work. Nobody knew what I felt. I felt as if I had misplaced something or lost something.

I was twenty-six, and I had what others would call a ‘sorted life’. I had a steady job, a good apartment, and a circle of friends who would join me every weekend and fill it with laughter and fun. But when the laughter faded, and the doors closed behind me, silence wrapped around me like a thick fog. 

A question began to haunt me in that silence.

What am I doing with my life?

One evening, I got off early from work. I found that I was walking without any direction. The sun was just setting, and the street lights had come to life. I walked past the bus stop without stopping for the bus that would take me home.

I had not planned where I wanted to go. I knew I did not want to go home just yet. I wandered away from the main road into a street. The street was lined with small houses, and it was a quiet neighbourhood. The noises of the city were distant murmurs, and it was replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional barking of a stray dog.

It felt strange, as if the neighbourhood was not part of the city, as it felt so peaceful. I kept walking till I reached a small park. The buildings around it hid it from view. I let myself in by pushing open the gate, half-fearing that the old, rusted gate would crumble and collapse. There were a few benches under the trees. Light falling from a street light was all there was that lit up the place. It was not a place that people preferred to be, and perhaps that’s why it felt right to me.

I sat down on a bench and let out my breath.

My mind slowed down for the first time in many days, or it was the first time in many days that it stopped pretending.

“ I see that look often”, said a voice.

I was startled and turned to see who was speaking.

There was an old lady sitting on the other end of the bench. I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not even see her join me on the bench. Her clothes were plain and simple, her hair was silver and had been done in a careless braid. Her eyes were sharp, and her face had lines that had come from years of experience.

“What look?” I asked.

“ The lost look,” said the lady, and at that, I wondered if my demeanour had made it that obvious.

Caught off guard, I smiled nervously. Then I softly said,” I am not lost. I came for a walk”.

The old lady smiled and said,” People who are lost walk without knowing where they are headed.”

I did not have an answer.

The old lady was right.

She continued,” I sit here each evening. I watch people pass by. Most of them walk hurriedly. They know where they need to go. Once in a while, I get to see people like you.”

“People like me?” I asked.

“ Yes, they look like they are moving, but they don’t know why”, the old lady said.

The words hit me hard.

I stared down, not knowing what to say.

After a minute or so, I mumbled,” I thought I had my life all sorted out. I would study as well as I could, get a job, earn money, and live on my own terms. And I did all these. But now, it feels as if I had followed a map that leads to nowhere.”

The old lady smiled, patted my hand, and nodded her head as she had heard these many times before.

She asked,” When was the time that you did something that made you feel alive and good?”

I thought hard.

Alive and good?

I thought about all the things I did every day- getting up each morning, getting ready for the day, commuting to the office, working in the office, talking to my coworkers, attending to the household chores after I got back from work, watching movies, shopping, meeting and partying with friends-nothing, not one of these activities made feel alive and good.

I admitted honestly,” I really don’t know, but none of the things I do every day make me feel alive and good”. My head was still bent down. I realized that I had never bothered to analyse in this manner.

The old lady said,” That is where you got lost.”

I looked up as the old lady continued,” Getting lost does not imply that you took a wrong turn. It could also mean you walked on the same path for a very long time”.

The words sank in.

For years, I had been walking on the same road. The road that was safe, expected, and the one that garnered everyone’s applause. Suddenly, it hit me that I had stopped asking if it was my road.

I asked,” What should I do now?” and waited eagerly for an answer from this mentor I had accidentally met.

The old lady smiled and said,” If I could answer that for you, you wouldn’t have got lost in the first place”.

I said,” That is not a helpful answer”, a bit ruefully, as I expected an easy solution to my problem.

The old lady said,” I agree, but it is an honest one”.

We sat in silence as I slowly processed this.

An evening breeze brought the scent of night jasmine, and I could hear a dog barking. The city, the noise, the people hurrying by, the pollution felt so far away.

The old lady said, “ Being lost is not a bad thing.”

I said,” It does not feel great either”. 

The lady agreed and said,” True. It is uncomfortable, confusing, and very painful. This is the only time when you have a chance to find something new”.

I breathed in deeply and rested my back against the bench. I had my doubts. I asked,” What if I don’t find anything?”.

The lady replied, smiling,” Without a doubt, you will. The important part is, are you willing to look?”

That evening changed my perspective. I did not have answers, and there was no change that had happened magically. It was just that something inside me had shifted.

For a start, I stopped pretending that everything was fine.

That night, I thought hard and long about the conversation and decided to make some changes.

I woke up the next morning, but I did not hurry up with my chores as was my habit. I sat a little longer on the balcony with my morning coffee and watched as kids boarded the school bus. I resisted the urge to check my phone, think about work, and plan for the day that lay ahead. I had the strange and uncomfortable feeling that it was not me to sit idle. Yet, I stayed. I felt restless, and this was not from feeling bored but something deeper than that. It was due to dissatisfaction that had been buried under years of routine. I realized I had been in autopilot mode.

I went to the office as usual, but everything felt different. The tasks that I needed to attend to felt mechanical, and the conversations with my co-workers felt repetitive. The job in itself was not bad. It was just that it was nothing but a source to pay my bills. I decided to make some changes in my life. These were not big, huge ones but little, simple ones.

I used a different route each day to get to the office. I visited some places that I had never been to before. I began pursuing my old hobbies of reading books, which I had quit, as it was not a “thing” with my friends. I joined a hobby class- pottery making.

It was awkward. My work was clumsy, and the pieces I made were nowhere even close to the actual item.

It quietened my nerves, however. I was not regretting my past or worrying about my future during the time I spent working on this new skill. I was there in the moment.

After a fortnight, I returned to that park and met the old lady.

The old lady said,” You are back”.

I smiled,” I had a feeling that I would find you here”.

The old lady asked,” So how is it going?”

I sat down next to her.

I said,” I have been trying to work on things that truly interest me, and I feel a little less lost. I still need to find answers to many things that bother me.”

The old lady said,” That is how it goes”.

I had a question that I had been meaning to ask her, but did not have the courage. Today, I picked up courage and asked her,” Did you go through this?”

She chuckled and said,” Yes, of course”.

“And did you find your way?”

The old lady looked ahead, and there was a distant look in her eyes.

“ I created my own way instead of looking for ‘the way’.

I thought over it. Creating a way. It felt challenging and liberating, too.

I asked,” What if I can’t do it?”

The old lady said gently,” You will.”

That sounded reassuring.

The old lady said,” As you walk on this path, you will fail sometimes, you will have self-doubt, you might feel lost also. But each time you will understand a little more about yourself. And that is the journey”.

I mulled over it.

All along, I was looking for a well-defined, simple path. But life was probably not meant to be that. Maybe it was meant to be somewhat unpredictable, a bit messy, and uncertain. I understood that I should accept it.

There was no change in my life overnight. I went to work, I followed some routines, but there had been some basic changes. I was not moving aimlessly; I was choosing. I took a lot of time to understand myself and the things that really mattered to me. I spent more time reading, I took a membership in the local library, and I joined a reading club too. I met many like-minded people not out of obligation but due to interest. I continued attending the pottery class too. It was amazing to create something with my hands.

I felt lost sometimes, but it did not scare me anymore as I understood something I hadn’t before. Being lost was not the end; it was the beginning of new and better things.

I went to the park again after three months and searched for the old lady in vain. I waited, but she did not turn up. I thought maybe I had met her to be reminded of something important.

As I looked around the park, everything was the same-the tree, the bench, etc., but I had changed.  I walked out of the gate, and though I did not know where exactly I was headed, I was ready to find out. And after a long time, I did not feel lost. I felt liberated.