Ae ZIndagi Gale Laga Le..... Advait was humming the popular song from the film "Sadma", his all time favorite.
The winter sun filled the room with a soft glow. Cool breeze touched Advait’s face as he sat in his old armchair, ready to lose himself in the comfort of his favorite book. In the carpeted reading room a glass paneled cupboard with neatly arranged rows of books stood tall, a large teakwood table upon which a reading lamp was casting it's light. A intricately carved wooden tray held a glass full of water and a jug beside it. A brass elephant stood guard at the center of the table. These had been his companions since many years now and this room was his all time favorite retreat. A neatly framed faded family photo hung on the wall like a memory frozen in time and the wallpaper on the walls made it more elegant and inviting. Stepping into this room was like going back in time. The room was quiet, still, and calm. The only sounds which filled it were Advait's singing and the breeze from the window.
Advait picked up his reading glasses, cleaned them carefully, and held them against the light. A gentle smile crossed his face. He murmured, “Ae Zindagi, my friend, my companion. You may have dimmed my eyes, but you have given me the gift of seeing life clearly and that too in full HD. Come here, sit with me for a while. Just look at us, we have carried the weight of decades together. It feels like yesterday when we began this noisy, clumsy journey. Now that you and me have aged quite a bit, I just want to sit in silence with you for a while. No accounts left to settle, only memories to share. What a journey you’ve been.”
Advait’s voice grew tender, “A big Thank you for the small joys. The smell of the first rain on the hot earth. The taste of home cooked meals, the warmth of a loving family. and a roof over my head. Thank you for guiding me through the challenges of school and college with wisdom. You gave me light when I needed it most, and I will never forget that. You taught me how to fold disappointment into lessons - Thank you. You remember the mornings I thought I would go out and change the world? I raced out, angry at the slow world, and you with your patience held me in check. You showed me and made me realize that the world was here before me and I owed it to the world. You gave me the realization that most victories in life are tiny: a phone call returned, a warm hug from a loved one, a dish washed without complaint, a promise kept to myself."
Advait paused, then chuckled softly, “But let’s be honest, Zindagi. You were a terrible planner. Why did loneliness strike when I was surrounded by people? Why did you throw me onto rough roads when smooth ones were right there? Do you remember that big order for which I had worked for countless nights? You gave it to someone else. It did feel cruel, unfair at that point.”
His tone grew firm, yet grateful, “But I must say - Thank you, those stings shaped me. They burned away illusions and built resilience. I wouldn’t be who I am today without those fires. You made me stronger. You gave me treasures too. A adorable family without which I would be a boat drifting in rough waters. There were people who loved me and people who left like seasons. I sit with those memories now and I don't want to change anything. Some goodbyes still give me a lump in my throat, and some embraces feel like warm rooms I can step into again in a dream. You let me carry their names like coins in my pocket; they jingle when I walk and remind me I once mattered fiercely to someone else. You taught me that love isn’t about holding on, but about cherishing the time we share under the same sun.”
Advait sighed, “I wish you had pushed me harder that one time in college. I wish I hadn’t wasted so much energy worrying about things that never happened. The sleepless nights, the unknown fears - they were heavy. But they taught me to value peace. Those quiet mornings with hot chai, the newspaper, and the birds singing. That’s when you whispered the deepest truths. That’s when I really found myself. There were places I never went and things I never said, and sometimes I think of them like unwritten letters. You have always answered me with a patient smile and told me that absence makes space for other things - a small habit, a new friendship, a quiet Sunday ritual. I found strength in the simplest routines. You laugh when I call those moments 'LITTLE,' and you made me realize that little is where most of living actually happens. You reminded me that a life is not a checklist but a living room where people keep moving in and out.”
As the evening grew quieter. Advait’s voice trembled, “Now, as the story of my life seems to end, I’m scared. Scared to lose you. You’ve been my only friend from the first breath to the last. You have seen every mistake, every triumph. I am sorry for the times I hurried you, for the impatience that made us both tired. I don't know how long I have left to speak aloud these memories, but I know the shape they have made inside me. They are not perfect, but they are special. I am more tender than I expected to be, more honest than I planned, and oddly proud of a life that kept showing up even when I didn't. It feels strange to know that the sun setting today might not rise for me tomorrow. But there’s relief too. The race is over. The duty is done. No more deadlines, no more bills. Just calm. It's like sinking into the softest bed after a lifetime of hard work. The aches are fading. The questions in my head are silent. The journey is complete.”
Advait closed his eyes for a moment, his voice soft but steady, “Thank you, Ae Zindagi. For every breath, every tear, every laugh. You were messy, you were glorious, but you were mine. And I wouldn’t trade a second of it. I love you, my friend.”
"Ae ZIndagi Gale Laga Le..... Advait continued to hum.
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