The Last Chance: When Time Runs Out and Regret Kicks In

A few days ago, I took what would likely be one of my last trips back to my hometown, as I’m moving away permanently. As the train pulled farther away from the city that had become my second home, my heart grew heavy. I used to spend my evenings on the balcony, walking back and forth, listening to my favourite playlist, gazing at the sky and, feeling a sense of peace. But as I looked up at the sky one last time while leaving the city, with the same music playing , I felt a deep sense of loss.

It felt like saying goodbye to an old friend, knowing you might never cross paths again. I remembered walking through the bustling streets, the Delhi Metro that had become a huge part of all my memories, the cozy cafes where I spent countless afternoons searching for the best food, and the friends who had become like family. The grief of parting made it clear just how much the city had been kind to me and how I had fallen in love with it. As these memories flashed before my eyes, I realised it was my last chance to soak in the essence of a place that had shaped who I am today, a city that had given me so much and was now asking to be left behind.

I felt a deep tug inside as if something was pulling me. What made this journey so difficult? Was it the last chance itself? Regret? The fear of missing out? The uncertainty of what the future holds? Could be any of these. Regret is the feeling of having made the wrong choice, and once things go south, it’s hard not to wish for another chance to make it right. But what if that chance doesn’t work out either?

Regret is something that sneaks up on us like an uninvited guest who always finds a way back in. Trying to keep track of it is pointless because, no matter what, regret will always be there. But how should we handle it? I’m not sure, and maybe I don’t know exactly. Some evenings, I picture myself sitting with my 10-year-old self, asking him if he’s proud of who I’ve become. Does he think I’m cool? Is he okay with who I am today and what I do now? Does he feel regret about something? These small questions spark little moments of gratitude, fleeting yet deep. And if he’s not happy with who I’ve become, I see it as a sign to make it right. As we grow, we tend to complicate everything but I feel that the child within us can often guide us simply about what we need to do.

I used to be a collector of useless stuff. I would cling to things I no longer needed, afraid of the regret I might feel in the unlikely event I needed those worn-out running shoes, just in case. Regret is just like any other fear but stronger when coupled with last chance. But it’s not the facts we fear. It’s the emotions those facts might bring up in us.

The “last chance” adds a layer of fear to your regret, making us take impulsive decisions. You might buy that iPhone during a flash sale, stretching your budget, which you wouldn’t have bought otherwise, just because it might be your “last chance” to grab the deal. Similarly, you might rush to buy a subscription at 11:59 PM, fully aware that you’ll probably never use it, but feeling compelled to do so because the company plans to hike the price by 25% the very next day. In both cases, the pressure of a “last chance” can push us to make choices we wouldn’t normally consider, driven by the fear of missing out.

Regret can trigger irrational behaviour, but it can also inspire compassion. Yet, why does compassion often come too late? Why not value and express gratitude as things happen? Why wait until a funeral to share heartfelt words when we could say them whenever we meet? We might not say “I love you” to our parents because it feels awkward, even though we express it in other ways. But finding the courage to voice our love can make all the difference, and regret often reminds us of the importance of doing so while we still can. Perhaps it’s because regret often outweighs gratitude, making us realize too late the importance of appreciating the moments and people we have.

But what if we learned to see regret not as a burden but as a guide? Instead of letting it weigh us down, we could let it remind us to act with intention, speak with honesty, and love without holding back. Regret doesn’t have to be the enemy. It can be the voice that urges us to seize the moment, to appreciate here and now, to make the most of the chances we’re given.

And maybe, just maybe, if we live with that awareness, the conversations with our younger selves will be filled with pride, not just what we’ve done, but in who we’ve become. We might find that the last chance isn’t the end, but the beginning of a new chapter, one where we walk forward with a little less fear, a little more gratitude, and a heart open to the possibilities that lie ahead.

Sunsets from my balcony

New Delhi Railway Station