Tomorrow Never Comes

The first rays of sunlight spread across the paddy fields like liquid gold.

The village slowly woke to the sounds of roosters crowing and distant cowbells. A cool breeze danced through the green fields, carrying the scent of wet earth and fresh grass.

Ramesh opened his eyes and smiled.

Today felt different.

A strange energy rushed through his body. His heart felt lighter than it had in years. He stretched his arms and sat up on the wooden bed.

For the first time in a long while, he felt young.

He hummed an old song while preparing breakfast. The frying pan sizzled as he cooked eggs and flatbread. Between stirring and flipping, he danced around the small kitchen, laughing at himself.

“Life is beautiful,” he said aloud.

The empty house gave no reply.

After breakfast, he opened the old wooden cupboard and began searching through his clothes.

A white shirt.

No.

Too boring.

A blue one.

No.

Too ordinary.

Then he found it.

A colorful floral shirt he had bought years ago but never worn.

He held it against himself and smiled.

Perfect.

He paired it with black trousers, polished his old dingo boots, put on a pair of sunglasses, and stood proudly before the mirror.

He looked ridiculous.

And he loved it.

“Looking handsome, Ramesh,” he joked.

The man in the mirror seemed to agree.

⸻

The village market was busy.

Children ran between stalls. Vendors shouted prices. Buses honked impatiently.

As Ramesh walked through the streets, people looked at him curiously.

Some laughed.

Some whispered.

Some asked if everything was alright.

A few elderly men stared in confusion.

Ramesh simply smiled and continued walking.

He felt too happy to care.

For years he had worried about what others thought.

Today he didn’t.

Today belonged to him.

⸻

At the cinema hall, he bought the largest popcorn bucket available.

The movie was an action film.

When the hero made his grand entrance, Ramesh jumped from his seat and cheered loudly.

The younger audience laughed.

Ramesh laughed with them.

He didn’t care.

For two hours, he forgot his age.

Forgot his responsibilities.

Forgot the years that had disappeared behind him.

After the movie, he bought ice cream.

Then another one.

He ate spicy street food.

Sweet street food.

Food he had always wanted to try but never had.

His doctor would have fainted if he had seen him.

But Ramesh wasn’t thinking about doctors today.

He was thinking about living.

⸻

As evening approached, he stopped outside a small wine shop.

For several minutes he stared at the bottles.

Then he smiled.

“Why not?”

Inside, he ordered a drink.

Then another.

Not enough to lose himself.

Just enough to feel warm.

Just enough to feel twenty-four again.

⸻

The sun slowly disappeared behind the hills.

Darkness began covering the village.

People heading home passed him along the road.

Many offered him rides.

“Uncle, shall we drop you home?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

They exchanged worried glances but continued on.

Ramesh laughed.

Why did everyone think he was fragile?

He felt stronger than ever.

⸻

By the time he reached home, the moon had risen high above the fields.

He fed water to his cows and goats.

The animals greeted him with familiar sounds.

The house remained silent.

It had always been silent.

For years.

His wife had passed away long ago.

His children lived in distant cities.

Visitors were rare.

The house had become less of a home and more of a memory.

⸻

Before going to bed, Ramesh stopped in front of an old mirror hanging on the wall.

The mirror was scratched and faded.

He looked into it casually.

Then froze.

For a moment he didn’t recognise the man staring back.

Wrinkled skin.

Grey hair.

Bent shoulders.

Tired eyes.

The colourful shirt suddenly looked strange.

Almost foolish.

His smile slowly disappeared.

And then it hit him.

That old man was him.

The energetic young man he had imagined all day had never existed.

Not anymore.

He was seventy years old.

Seventy.

The realization struck harder than any illness ever had.

Suddenly everything made sense.

The strange looks.

The whispers.

The worried offers of rides.

The laughter.

People weren’t looking at a carefree young man.

They were looking at an old man desperately trying to be one.

⸻

Ramesh sat before the mirror for a long time.

Outside, the night grew darker.

Inside, memories began returning.

He remembered being twenty-four.

Working every day.

Saving money.

Postponing dreams.

Always telling himself:

“Next year.”

“I’ll travel next year.”

“I’ll enjoy life next year.”

“I’ll buy those clothes next year.”

“I’ll learn guitar next year.”

“I’ll take a break next year.”

“I’ll live next year.”

Next year.

Next year.

Next year.

The years had become decades.

And suddenly there were no next years left.

⸻

His eyes filled with tears.

Not because he was old.

But because life had moved so quickly.

When he had time, he had no money.

When he had money, he had no time.

And now he had both.

But his body was tired.

His youth was gone.

His tomorrows were numbered.

⸻

The room was silent except for the ticking of an old clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Each sound felt like a reminder.

Time had never stopped.

Only he had assumed it would wait.

⸻

Then something strange happened.

Perhaps it was the wine.

Perhaps it was memory.

Or perhaps it was regret.

But in the mirror, another figure appeared.

A young man.

Twenty-four years old.

Bright eyes.

Strong shoulders.

Endless possibilities.

Young Ramesh.

The man he once was.

The man he thought he would always be.

The young version smiled gently.

Then asked:

“So… did we finally live?”

Old Ramesh stared at him.

His lips trembled.

But no words came out.

Because the answer hurt too much.

He had spent his entire life preparing for happiness.

Preparing for freedom.

Preparing to live.

And somewhere along the way…

He forgot to actually do it.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

The young man slowly faded from the mirror.

Only the old man remained.

Standing alone.

Surrounded by everything he had earned.

And haunted by everything he had missed.

⸻

Outside, the fields still glowed beneath the moonlight.

The same fields that had witnessed his childhood.

His youth.

His dreams.

And now his regrets.

Ramesh switched off the light and walked toward his bed.

Before sleeping, he whispered softly into the darkness.

“Tomorrow.”

Then he smiled sadly.

Because for the first time in his life…

He understood that tomorrow was never promised.

And sometimes, if you wait too long—

Tomorrow Never Comes.