Hayat woke up with the confidence of a man who had decided, firmly and bravely,"Today I will get my life together."He made this decision every second day, but today it felt special.
He sat up, stretched, and immediately questioned everything.
Why do I even want to get my life together? What's the end goal? Peace? Success? Stability?But why do humans even chase these illusions? Why can't I just be a rock? Rocks don't have deadlines.
He stared at the ceiling like it held sacred wisdom.
It didn't.It had a spider.
The Failure of the Day Arrives Early
Hayat decided to start with something simple:He would finish one task at work properly.
Just one.
But of course, the universe whispered, "LMAO, no."
At work, he had to compile a simple report—copy numbers, arrange, send.Basic. Simple. Human-level.
Hayat messed up all three.
He copied the wrong numbers.Arranged them in the wrong order.Sent them to the wrong person.
It was a hat-trick of stupidity.
His boss didn't shout.That was worse.
Disappointment hung in the air like quiet thunder.
Hayat apologized. Twice. Thrice.His boss blinked slowly, the way people blink when reconsidering their hiring choices.
Walking away, Hayat thought:
Why am I like this? Why do I fail at simple things? I'm not even trying to be extraordinary. I just want to be "barely competent." Is that too much to ask?
He rubbed his forehead.
Maybe I was born in the wrong timeline. Maybe in another universe I'm smart, successful, emotionally stable… or maybe I'm still like this but at least I look hotter.
Exit Work, Enter Existential Spiral
After shift, he walked home, thinking about the same cyclical questions:
What if I'm stuck in this loop forever?Wake up, mess up, think too much, sleep, repeat.Is this adulthood? This… boredom disguised as "life experience"?
Then the deeper ones:
Why am I here?Do my parents really deserve a son this confused?Is anyone proud of me?Should I even want people to be proud of me?Why do I crave validation?Is it trauma or biology or both or just Tuesday?
He kicked a pebble.It bounced once and fell into a drain.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Same."
**The Chauraha Event
— Gravity 1 : Hayat 0**
He reached the main chauraha—traffic honking, vendors yelling, life moving at full volume.Hayat, of course, was lost in his mind again.
Everyone here has somewhere to be. Something to do.Purpose.Direction.Look at that uncle crossing the road with confidence… why can't I live like that?Why am I always thinking?Why can't I just exist without analyzing my existence?
The thought was deep, philosophical…… and completely distracting.
He didn't see the loose stone on the footpath.
His foot twisted.His body betrayed him.Gravity got excited.
He fell—hands first, bag sliding, knees smacking the ground.
Full public tragedy.
A chai wala looked at him.A rickshaw wala paused chewing paan.A dog nearby tilted its head like: bro you ok?
Hayat lay there for a moment, face pressed to dusty ground, thinking:
Wow. My life is symbolic even when I'm unconscious.I fell in real life exactly like I fall mentally every day.Beautiful. Poetic. Disgusting. Painful. Nice combo.
Someone asked, "Bhai, lag gayi?"
Hayat got up, dusted himself, and said,"Nahi bhai, zindagi lagti rehti hai."
They laughed.He limped away.
Walking Home, Limping Thoughts
His knee hurt, his ego hurt, his soul hurt slightly more.
But the thoughts didn't stop:
Maybe I deserve these small humiliations. Maybe it's the universe's way of keeping me grounded—literally.But what if I'm not meant to be happy?What if I'm the filler character whose role is to suffer and observe?Does every life need a purpose?What if my only purpose is to… continue?
He took a deep breath.
"What a stupid day," he whispered.
But he kept walking.
Because despite everything—failures, existential dread, gravity attacking him—Hayat still moved forward.
Slowly.Painfully.Confusedly.
But forward.