When my vision began deteriorating further after our last visit to the U.S. late last year, I felt a wave of fear. I could no longer see the faces of my loved ones, and even the faint, blurred images that used to comfort me were gone. All I could make out were silhouettes. The familiar faces I held in memory were now based on old photographs—ones I could barely discern, no matter how much I zoomed in. It was heartbreaking. But why burden others with my pain? After all, we humans are remarkably adaptable. 

A new challenge arose—how to pass the time. Even the small amount of content I could once enjoy on my iPad was slipping away. The screen grew dimmer, and navigation required more memory and focus than ever before. How could I keep myself meaningfully engaged?

Fast forward ten months, and things have changed. After some difficult battles on the health front, I found my rhythm again. My first refuge was YouTube—politics, music, medical insights, and sports. Then came cricket. Even though I couldn’t see the action clearly, listening to the commentary was a joy. Occasionally, I’d glance at the screen, but mostly, I’d close my eyes and just listen.

Next came blog writing, which has become a passion. I sit down, and my hands type without much thought or planning—just raw ideas flowing in whatever order they come. What started as writing one blog post a day quickly escalated to two, three, or as many as I could manage.

Walking has also become an essential part of my routine, driven by the need to maintain my health. Despite the confined space I have, I walk. The doctors urged me to double my exercise to counteract my metabolic challenges. Yes, I get tired—my legs ache, and my back complains—but I push through. Pain is a mental barrier, and I’ve learned that it can be crossed.

After almost a year, I’ve returned to meditation. My daily practice now includes 35 minutes of preparatory exercises followed by meditation and prayer.

And then, there’s reading—or rather, listening to books. With so much else going on, I’ve fallen behind. There are at least 12 unread books waiting for me, and the list keeps growing. Now, I’m trying to find a balance—less time on YouTube and more on audiobooks. After all, I’m the one who decides how to spend my time. No one else can do it for me. 

These routines—writing, walking, meditation, prayer, and listening—give my days purpose. Yes, I get tired, physically and mentally, but this tiredness is rejuvenating. 

Every day, there’s something to look forward to. 

God, please keep me like this. I don’t want spare time, a blank mind, or unwelcome thoughts. 

Contd. 359. The Desperate Hours - Stories from My Dark Ages