Retirement Without A Rocking Chair: A Life Still in Bloom

“Retirement Without A Rocking Chair: A Life Still in Bloom”

Retirement, for many, is the closing act of a well-rehearsed play—curtains drawn with applause, pensions assured, and comfort promised. But for some of us, it arrives more like a slow sunset—quiet, uncertain, and open-ended.

I have retired from formal work, yes, but I have not retired from life. There’s no pension that cushions my evenings. Instead, I survive on the modest royalties of my books and the slowly diminishing comfort of old savings. Yet, this is not a lament—it is an honest testimony. Life, after all, does not always follow the script we imagined in our youth.

What I miss cannot be wrapped in words easily:
– I miss the corridors filled with footsteps and voices that once echoed my name.
– I miss the chalk dust, the hurried assemblies, the timetables and the purpose they held.
– I miss the shared tea, the staffroom banter, the earnest eyes of young learners, and the sense of being needed.
– I miss relevance—that silent affirmation which once came daily in work done, decisions taken, and responsibilities fulfilled.

Sometimes, I even miss the fatigue—the good tiredness of a day well-spent. Now, the clock ticks slower, and sometimes louder.

There are days when I feel like a bookmark in a book nobody’s reading anymore—still holding meaning, but long since passed over. Friends grow fewer, calls grow rare, and relevance often seems to belong to the past. The world outside races ahead, and I watch it from a quieter place.

But I have learned—slowly, gently—to overlook what is missing and overcome what is heavy.

How?
By shifting my gaze.

I begin my mornings not by checking calendars, but by opening windows. I sip tea not for rush, but for reflection. I remember—fondly and freely—the chapters of my life that still shine with significance. I read again the words I once wrote, and I write anew what still flows from my soul.

Books, silence, prayer, and music—they are no longer luxuries but lifelines. I let nostalgia pass through me gently, not as a wave of sorrow, but as a breeze of blessings. I revisit my achievements not to boast, but to believe—I mattered, I made a mark.

There’s a grace in letting go, in not keeping score, in not needing the world to notice. Life becomes lighter when I choose to travel inward rather than outward. I choose meaning over motion, reflection over reaction, presence over performance.

And above all, I smile—often, and for no reason. Because I still can.

Wisdom from the Gita

From the Bhagavad Gita, a verse that sits beside me like a wise friend:

श्रेयान् स्वधर्मो विगुणः परधर्मात्स्वनुष्ठितात्।
स्वधर्मे निधनं श्रेयः परधर्मो भयावहः॥
(Gita 3.35)
Shreyān svadharmo viguṇaḥ paradharmāt svanuṣṭhitāt,
Svadharme nidhanaṁ śreyaḥ paradharmo bhayāvahaḥ.

Meaning:
“It is better to live your own purpose imperfectly than to live another’s perfectly. Even death in one’s own calling is better than a borrowed life.”

This verse reminds me that the path I walk—however modest, however pensionless—is mine. It carries the scent of authenticity and the light of meaning.

हिंदी की एक भावुक पंक्ति (A Heartfelt Hindi Verse)

ना तनख्वाह है, ना भीड़ है, ना पहचान की प्यास,
फिर भी मुस्कुरा देता हूं हर एक सुबह के साथ।
ज़िन्दगी अब गणना नहीं, गीत बन गई है,
जहाँ हर शब्द में छुपी है एक दुआ की बात।

Translation:
No salary, no crowds, no thirst for fame—
Yet I smile with each new morning’s name.
Life is no longer a tally or a race,
But a song that carries a prayer’s grace.

Final Verses

A room may fall into hush and grey,
Yet memory’s lamp still lights my way.
Though pensionless, my soul’s not poor—
It sings in silence, strong and sure.

With books and birds and breeze for balm,
I quiet the noise and sip the calm.
For life is not a race to run—
It is a poem, still being spun.

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