You Forgot Why You Started

A few years ago, I met a man on a train.

Mid-50s. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to look like he didn’t care.

Laugh lines carved deep.

A small tiffin with two mangoes inside, on his lap.

He looked at me — my laptop was open, mid-email —

And said,

“Beta, kaam kabhi khatam nahi hota.”

I smiled politely.

Then went back to my screen.

He tapped his tiffin.

“Know why I carry mangoes?”

I shook my head.

“Because when I was your age, I promised myself...

When I earn enough, I’ll eat Alphonsos every week.

Not the cheap ones. The sweet, expensive ones.”

He paused. Peeled one slowly.

“I hit that ‘enough’ years ago. But never bought them.

Always thought — next year. Let’s save for later.”

He bit into it. The juice ran down his wrist.

“I realized one day... I was saving joy for a life I never lived.”

I shut my laptop. He smiled.

“Work is good. Ambition is good. 

But don’t let it rob you of mangoes. Or Mondays. Or mornings.”

That conversation never left me.

We chase goals like there’s a scoreboard.

As if “more” will finally feel like “enough.”

We plan our happiness like a retirement scheme:

“Someday I’ll travel.”

“Someday I’ll rest.”

“Someday I’ll live.”

But someday isn’t promised.

Only now is.

Now has the chai that hits different in silence.

Now has the friend who wants to meet, but won’t ask twice.

Now has the sunset you keep missing through glass windows.

Don't trade your moments for milestones.

Your purpose isn’t to retire rich.

It’s to live rich.

In stories, in laughter, in mango stains on your shirt.

So go.

Text someone.

Skip something.

Dance badly.

Laugh loudly.

And if nothing else,

Buy the mangoes.

Love,

Dhruv.