This brief essay is a personal reflection by the author on reaching the year 2025, coloured by nostalgia for the 20th century and a mild disappointment about the recent decades, ending with hopeful anticipation for the future.

Here we are, in the year 2025, a date that once felt impossibly futuristic. It’s a special milestone in my own personal timeline.
Frankly, the 20th century, despite its historical distance, feels far more tangible, more deeply etched into the fabric of my understanding of the world. The raw human drama, the profound societal shifts, the very weight of events like the two World Wars – these narratives possess a gravity and a complexity that dwarf even the most stupefying projections of an existence driven by AI. Those historical events, with their real-world consequences and the echoes they still send through time, resonate with a depth that no constructed future can quite replicate for me.
The year 2025 does carry a certain weight for me, albeit not for the reasons one might expect from a history textbook. Apparently, some sources – online sources, to be specific, which I’ll readily admit are the shaky foundation of my historical knowledge – claim that both the RSS and, believe it or not, the Communist Party of India were established a century ago, right around 1925. But that historical footnote doesn’t truly grip me. Don’t waste your breath correcting me if my Weak-i-pedia has failed me; the finer points of historical accuracy tend to slip through the sieve of my memory. No, the real resonance of 2025 lies in something far more personal and profound: my mother was born a hundred years prior. That is a milestone that truly anchors this year in my consciousness, connecting it directly to the very core of my being and my family history.
I find myself reflecting on the milestones of my own journey. When did I live through that hazy, almost unrecognized period we call “coming of age”? At what point did I stumble through those typical blunders, those grand missteps that seem almost mandatory for young people convinced of their own wisdom? When did I finally shed my youthful indulgences, like eating carelessly, socializing indiscriminately, and sleeping erratically? And, perhaps more importantly, when did I begin actively accumulating the experiences, the human connections, the inner resources that I hope will contribute to contentment in my later years?
The answer, of course, is that all of these pivotal moments, these formative experiences, are firmly rooted in the 20th century. Perhaps ironically, even then I was often captivated by echoes of earlier eras, drawn to the art, literature, and philosophies of the past. There was a certain romance, a feeling of connection to something grander and more timeless, even as I navigated the distinctly modern landscape of the 20th.
And now, seemingly in the blink of an eye, or perhaps with the swift uneventful passage of countless days, here we are. For me, 2025 has materialized with an almost startling suddenness. The intervening years, those nine thousand plus individual days, have blurred together, a streak of moments flashing by like lightning in the vast expanse of infinite space. The incremental passage of time has been so subtle, so integrated into the everyday rhythm, that reaching this point feels less like a journey and more like a sudden arrival.
The 21st century, it seems, has become the backdrop for my slow shuffle towards old age. Thus far, this new millennium hasn’t ignited my intellectual landscape in a way that has set anything on fire. There haven’t been seismic shifts in philosophical thought that have fundamentally challenged my perspectives, nor have I witnessed a literary movement that signals a profound turning point in storytelling or artistic expression. Frankly, the era has felt somewhat… underwhelming. The endless stream of new gadgets and technological novelties holds little genuine appeal, and the pronouncements of the current crop of political leaders often feel like mere hot air, lacking substance and vision. This first quarter of the century, for me at least, hasn’t quite lived up to the promise of a new era.
But despite my apparent indifference to its arrival, here it is, the reality of 2025. And despite my connection to the past, I find myself open, even eager, for what the future holds. I’m ready for the inevitable changes that life will bring, for unexpected adventures that might still unfold, and for fresh ideas that could yet spark new ways of thinking. If I had the power to shape the coming decades, I would dedicate the next twenty-five years to fostering peace, both within ourselves and in the world around us. I would strive to cultivate vibrant, supportive communities where individuals feel a sense of belonging and purpose. Above all, I would want to empower young people to embrace their originality, to be fearless in their pursuits, and to actively seek harmony – with each other, with their environment, and with the enduring wisdom of generations past.
Dr. Kamakshi Balasubramanian is an educator with a PhD in Russian language and literature. She retired from full-time work in 2009, after nearly 40 years of teaching Russian, Tamil, World literature, and Theory of Knowledge in India and abroad. Kamakshi has written books for young readers published by NBT, India. She has authored academic papers, feature articles, book-reviews, and written widely on teacher education. Kamakshi is a discriminating reader, who is keenly interested in quality fiction as well as in non-fiction that is well-crafted, analytical, and purposeful. She spins khadi and practices vipassana meditation.