A nostalgic melancholy


When Sleep Refuses to Knock

When sleep refuses to knock at my door, I often find myself wandering into the quiet world of Facebook reels. A strange companion in the silence of the night, these fleeting clips hold more power than one might expect. At times, I feel they are even more meaningful than the polished shorts on YouTube. The beauty of reels lies in their understanding—they listen back. When I pause and let a melody soak into my soul, the algorithm, as if sensing my yearning, brings me more of the same. Music after music, memory after memory.

It is in these fragile hours—when the world around me sleeps—that music becomes a thread weaving the past with the present. A certain tune, an old bhajan, a forgotten film song, or the strains of a raga carries me gently into the quiet corners of my mind. I begin to drift—first to my school days, where mornings began with the ringing bell and innocent laughter. Then to my college years, where dreams were still unbroken and every path seemed possible. I see my grandmother again—her soft hands, her silent prayers, her comforting presence. I see my parents, long gone, who once stood as tall trees of strength in my life. I remember each face, each voice, each absence that now echoes louder in my heart.

The reel continues, but time seems to pause.

As I sit there, immersed in these ripples of the past, a sadness takes root. Not the loud sorrow that demands tears—but the silent, aching kind. The kind that makes you question: What is the meaning of all this? The people we loved, the laughter we shared, the struggles we overcame—where have they all gone? Are they just memories carried in pixels and music, waiting to visit us when sleep forgets us?

Sometimes, I wonder if life is nothing but a reel too—moving too fast, made up of fragments, moments, melodies, and memories. We scroll through it, caught between what was and what never came to be.

In that moment, in that stillness filled only by music and memory, I am not just a listener. I am a child again, a son, a student, a seeker, a soul longing for meaning in a world that keeps slipping away.

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