Lost Year- 2025

 30th December — 11:32 p.m.

Another year has passed. Was it worth the pain it carried? Or if one thinks of a year as broken or lost, does that loss still leave something behind—something that makes us stronger in ways we do not immediately recognize?

This year began with a fracture. I lost my grandfather—my old blood. I have not been able to return to my ancestral home even once since February. Somewhere along the way, my emotions stopped moving freely; they now travel with baggage, heavier than before. Grief does that—it does not announce itself loudly, but it settles quietly, altering how one feels everything else.

Challenges followed. My father-in-law went through a serious health crisis, casting a long shadow across the year. It became a season of constant worry, a prolonged state of uncertainty that demanded resilience even on days when strength felt absent.

My wife, too, bore her own loss. She lost her grandmother—a woman I see as the flag-bearer of courage, one of the strongest souls I have ever known. Watching her absence deepen our collective silence taught me how grief is shared, even when it is not spoken.

Then came the tragic accident at my home this week—an event that shattered me from within. It left me vulnerable, exposed, and alone with my thoughts in the quiet hours. There are moments when life does not wound gradually; it strikes suddenly, leaving little time to prepare for the aftermath.

Yet, amid all this, some light quietly persisted.

After years of planning, I reunited with my college friends at a wedding in Jaipur. In those moments, laughter returned without effort. I found myself reconnecting with my guitar, rediscovering a part of myself that had been dormant. My curiosity deepened—I began gathering knowledge again, reading more, thinking more. My love for history grew, and I started noticing how closely it mirrors our everyday lives. Patterns repeat; human nature remains unchanged.

Professionally, the year was not successful in measurable terms. Business did not flourish the way I had hoped. Still, there were signs—pipelines, possibilities, and quiet optimism—that suggest the coming year may carry better outcomes.

As the year closes, one thought lingers persistently: the end of a year provokes a reckoning. Resolutions are made, not always loudly, but sincerely. Something within begins to change. There is a calmness now—earned, not assumed. Age brings learning, and learning brings perspective.

A new page will begin. A new day. A new hope.

I end this year with gratitude—for the pain, the lessons, the realizations, and the clarity it has given me. This year took much from me, but it also revealed truths I might never have discovered otherwise.

And for that, I am thankful.