Through the Mists of Tomorrow: A Glimpse into My Life Three Years Hence

Through the Mists of Tomorrow: A Glimpse into My Life Three Years Hence

Time, that elusive traveller, never waits for anyone. It tiptoes past our moments of glory and grief alike, leaving behind a trail of memories and dreams half-fulfilled. When I close my eyes and imagine my life three years from now, I see not a distant fantasy but a quietly ripened continuation of the journey I tread today — a life woven with meaning, simplicity, and inner calm.

In three years, I imagine waking up not to the clamour of alarms, but to the melody of birds perched on the window sill, singing hymns of dawn. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingles with the scent of wet earth after a light drizzle. The world outside may still rush with deadlines and devices, yet within my modest space, serenity will reign. Perhaps I shall be writing by the window — words flowing like gentle rivers, touching unseen shores of hearts that read them.

I envision myself still teaching in subtle ways — maybe not in classrooms filled with chalk dust and chatter, but through conversations, mentoring, or reflective writings. For a teacher never truly retires; he merely changes the medium of his lessons. My consultancy work would have evolved, embracing the digital and philosophical worlds alike — a bridge between traditional wisdom and modern education.

Agnes, my ever-gentle companion in life and letters, will perhaps be working on her next book, while I assist in editing her drafts, debating words over cups of coffee, and rejoicing in the shared dance of thought. Agastya, our little star, will be old enough to question the world with curiosity — his eyes shimmering with that divine wonder only children possess. To answer his innocent questions may become my greatest occupation and my sweetest joy.

Three years hence, I hope to have travelled more — not just to places, but into minds, histories, and inner landscapes. Perhaps I will visit the mountains again, tracing the breath of eternity in the Himalayan silence. Or wander through the ruins of an ancient civilisation, feeling time’s eternal pulse.

Philosophically, I dream of reaching that tranquil bend of life where acceptance meets aspiration. The restless search for recognition will fade into gratitude for experience. I would wish to cultivate the art of mindful living — cherishing conversations, forgiving faster, and complaining less. My bookshelf will grow thicker, my worries thinner, and my heart lighter.

The world in three years may change beyond imagination — AI will reason, robots will empathise, and humanity will chase stars. Yet amidst all that progress, I wish to remain beautifully human — feeling, faltering, and forgiving — a humble traveller of time’s vast sea.

And if destiny allows, my pen will still dance across paper, guided not by ambition but by affection — writing stories of life, faith, and love that outlive their writer.

When years unfold their silver hue,
And dreams take shapes both old and new,
I’ll walk through dawns with heart serene,
Where joy is quiet, and thoughts are clean.

No crown to wear, no race to run,
Just peace beneath the setting sun.
For life’s true wealth, I’ve come to see,
Lies in calm hearts and memory.