"Youth is a blunder, Manhood is a struggle, and Old Age a regret."

Howsoever one might try to define the queer, mysterious and volatile thing called life, it is hard or rather impossible, to deny the fact that it is but a one-way road. We are bound by the chains of time, and the haughty laws of physics to traverse this same road and be obliged to go where destiny and fate or perhaps, our impulses and reasons take us. Every moment is a one-time experience, never to come again, and though some may seem more important than others, it would be naïve and foolish to not admit that they all are equally crucial in propelling our lives, towards the direction we choose, towards what we think is important; nevertheless, everything ahead is a dull grey mist, unseen when it suddenly pounces upon us, and we can't help but be dragged into the midst of the maelstrom and face whatever awaits us.

Youth is the springtime of life. It's like a sudden descent upon a flowery meadow, when everything is new and fresh, nature is promising, and all over is freedom and the bounty of life. Huge opportunities await, only waiting to be grabbed, and the individual bubbles with potential. But alas! If only he had the wisdom and sense of direction! It all seems so good, that one often forgets about one's duties and responsibilities and passes time in leisure. gaping at the wonders and mysteries of life. The liabilities of ignorance and inexperience often prove to be dangerous, and when one should have learnt how to deal with the challenges ahead in life, one often resorts to indulgence in what is unimportant, useless or even harmful. Wise words of experience often fall on stubborn and understanding ears, and before one can realise, one is suddenly thrown amidst the ocean of life, cruel, unsympathetic and merciless even to the smallest of flaws.

Then begins the struggle of manhood, when endless responsibilities are thrust upon one's shoulders. One can feel the pain of labour, of tiresome chores of monotony- the burden is immense, but there is no stopping. One strives to achieve heights, but out of many, a few only succeed, even then, partially. The enthusiasm and youthful vigour seem to die out, and it is now a merciless trial of perseverance and endurance. It is a tough struggle to survive on the highway of life, obstructed with countless number of walls, winding endless roads paved with thorns - where the smallest of flaws doesn't go unpunished. The evil of corruption, deception, falsehood, and betrayal now taunt the 'man' in his daily existence, and the only way to survive is to face and fight them. Time is unsympathetic and uncaring. and keeps us running up the stairs, while itself moving on the escalator, like a self-important boss. It all happens so quickly that we hardly realise it, until it is all over. There are so many plans, so many dreams, but in the end, only a few, if any at all, get executed or fulfilled.

Old age then creeps in, like the silent mist of the winter evening, and it all starts to slow down and cease. Work has ended, but when we look at it, we cannot help comparing between "the petty done, and the undone vast". The evening sky reminds us of dreams and promises, which fades out with the setting sun, but while the sun will rise once again, we will not. We are destined to succumb to fate, and what is left is regret and deep remorse. We try to be optimistic for whatever little we have achieved in life, but the greater weight of unfulfilled promises that were meant to be kept, makes it all seem so insignificant. Indeed, one has crossed miles, and the time to sleep is approaching, but so much is still left to be done. Some shall tell us to 'rage against the dying of the light, but the end is inevitable.

Such is the sorry state of existence in this world. Optimism surely helps us comfort ourselves, but it cannot help to recover what is lost. Life begins with enthusiasm, but ends with disillusionment and regrets, for we are often not sure what we are heading to. It is easy to plan and theorise, but few plans do indeed work out in real life. The truth is harsh, to be brief. Some may say that such thinking is cynicism, but it is not exactly so. The pangs of reality torment our daily existence, and idealism then becomes impractical. We have only our wisdom, experience, and most importantly, conscience, to guide us in this