The Last Time I Didn’t Know It Was the Last Time — A Writing Challenge!

Everything has a timeline that is not seen to our naked eyes

Photo by Manuel Torres Garcia on Unsplash

Dussehra festival cannot be just another festival of the year. It is the biggest festival of the year that almost everybody waits for.

For every individual, the reason is a bit different.

When I was a student pursuing higher secondary, life was comfortable in a city where my father was posted in my home state.

That was my first year in higher secondary education. I was excited about college life for the first time since I had heard from my cousins.

In college, the holiday was given only 2–3 days. But going to college right before the impending and most awaited or most celebrated festival had a different charm altogether,

It was all about having fun with friends, with most expected cancellations of classes.

Actually, we were going to get those vibes more than anything else.

At home, it was all about enjoying guests and relatives at home, having sweet snacks prepared at home, purchasing new clothes, and getting a brief holiday of 2–3 days, marketing for some or the other item. There were no strict rules for maintaining study timings.

The biggest festival of the year is celebrated for ten days; however, the actual fun starts from the 6th day onwards.

My uncle, aunt and grandmother used to be the most expected family members to fill my home.

The festival never appeared like one till they arrived and made some noise.

Along with the festival, the tenth day, ‘Dussehra ’, also marked my father’s birthday. Over the years, celebrating both on the same day became a cherished family ritual, multiplying the joy and making the occasion even more special.

The festival remained that way for the next two years after my father was transferred to a new city in our home state.

A few close relatives who lived nearby would also come over. From morning till night, the house buzzed with activity, making it feel like a day packed with celebrations from start to finish.

It made me feel as if the festival truly belonged to our home, and everything else was just happening around it.

Like all good things, the festival, too, had to come to an end.

As the celebrations drew to a close, I could feel a quiet heaviness settling over my heart. I knew my uncle and aunt would soon return to their own homes. My grandmother would stay with us for a few more days, but even then, I knew it was only a matter of time before she, too, would leave for our ancestral home.

Each departure made the house a little quieter and my heart a little lonelier. Actually, I wanted my home to be in that way for an extended time or maybe forever.

Time sped by. That year came to an end, and, as it always does, the next year brought the festival back in its own time.

I could feel the approaching joyful atmosphere once again. My heart was swelling every time I gave a thought to the same.

But there were some changes to the picture as well. It was my final and crucial year of writing the examination and getting done with higher secondary studies.

My further career was heavily dependent on my performance. I was getting nervous whenever that very thought came to my mind.

Again, I got three or four days of holidays. Both college and my tuition classes felt lighter during the festive break, but they were never quite the same as they had been the year before.

That year’s festival was also celebrated with near ones and homemade sweet snack items.

I could never get to feel the time to sit back at a place after leaving bed till the time go back to bed at night.

I had no idea then that it would be the last time I would spend the entire festive season at home.

Looking back now, I realise how quietly life changed course. I left home to pursue engineering, followed by an MBA, and before I knew it, I was caught up in the relentless rhythm of corporate life.

Thereafter, I found myself chasing deadlines, responsibilities, and ambitions. The festival that had once meant days of togetherness slowly turned into a brief break that had to fit around my schedule, instead of my schedule revolving around it.

While sitting alone, I often think I should have known that the most awaited time of the year was coming to an end.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I could have chosen a slower pace.

Perhaps I would have observed more, felt more deeply, held my loved ones’ hands a little longer, and taken quiet pride in simply being surrounded by family. Maybe I would have savoured more of those homemade sweets whose taste lingered long after the festival was over.

Now, whenever the biggest festival of the year comes around, I simply revisit those memories. Though the days are gone, they continue to live on in my heart.

And perhaps the most important lesson that time has taught me over the years is this: nothing I am enjoying today is guaranteed to last for as long as I wish. Every season, every celebration, or every conversation has a last time, though we rarely recognise it when we are living it.

That is why the phrase “the last time” has become so precious to me. Since I never know when a moment will be my last with someone or something I love, the only thing I can do is live it as fully as I can, with my whole heart.

Rishita Sharma💗

*This piece is written for Pen With Papers’ writing challenge — “The Last Time I Didn’t Know It Was the Last Time.” Write about an ordinary moment that only became unforgettable after it was gone. Find the challenge link below.*

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