Oh Magic noodles, where are you?
I didn’t expect a plate of Maggi noodles to save my soul. But then again, I didn’t expect to breifly lose myself in a fog of sadness during what should have been the best years of my life, either. It was just another Thursday morning, the kind that had blurred into the grey of countless others. But this one was different — not because of anything grand or dramatic, but because of a simple, steaming bowl of noodles that, somehow, pulled me out of a dark place.
Let me take you back to that day, and to the weeks leading up to it, when life seemed to be unraveling thread by thread, and how, with one unexpected meal, everything started to knit itself back together again.
It’s strange how, sometimes, life can seem perfectly fine on the surface, but underneath, there’s a dull, aching emptiness that you just can’t shake. I remember that feeling all too well. It was during my college days — a time that should have been filled with excitement and energy, but instead, I found myself sinking into a gloom I couldn’t explain.
It didn’t happen all at once. The sadness crept in slowly, like a fog rolling in on a quiet evening, blurring the edges of everything I knew. At first, I didn’t even notice it. Life was moving along as it always had — classes, friends, the usual routine. But then, little by little, things started to lose their color. Conversations felt flat, drained of any real meaning. The campus, usually so alive with noise and movement, felt distant, as if I were watching it all from behind a pane of glass. Even surrounded by hundreds of people, I felt completely alone.
Weeks went by, and I couldn’t shake it. The things that used to bring me joy — hanging out with friends, diving into my hobbies — just didn’t anymore. I forced myself to go to classes, to study, but there was no real passion behind it. It was like I was running on autopilot, just going through the motions without really being there.
Even running, something that used to make me feel so alive, became a struggle. The rush I used to get, that feeling of freedom as my feet pounded the pavement, was gone. Every step felt heavy, and no matter how far I ran, I couldn’t outrun the sadness.
And then there was the sleep — or the lack of it. I would lie awake at night, my mind racing, unable to shut it off. And when I finally did fall asleep, it was never enough. I’d wake up more tired than before, dragging myself through the day in a haze of exhaustion. It was like I was stuck between being awake and asleep, never fully in either state, just perpetually tired and drained.
What made it worse was that there was no clear reason for any of it. No major event, no trauma, nothing that I could point to and say, “This is why.” It was just this overwhelming sadness that had settled in, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out where it came from or how to make it go away. I started to wonder if it was something buried deep in my past, something I’d never dealt with, or maybe something my intuition sensed before my conscious mind could catch up. It was maddening, not knowing why I felt this way or how to fix it.
And then, one Thursday morning, everything changed.
It was a day like any other, or at least it started that way. The sky had been grey for weeks, but that morning, the sun finally broke through the clouds, just a little. I didn’t have any classes until the afternoon, so I took my time getting ready and headed to the mess around 9:30 AM.
The menu that morning was nothing special — masala vada, omelet, and Maggi noodles. I grabbed a plate of Maggi, the steam rising up as I sat down at one of the tables. I wasn’t expecting anything from that meal, just another routine breakfast to get me through the day.
But then, as I took that first slurp of Maggi, something happened. The gloom that had been hanging over me for weeks suddenly lifted, just like that. It was as if a weight had been taken off my shoulders, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe again.
The Maggi wasn’t extraordinary — it was just the same watery noodles I’d had a hundred times before. But in that moment, it was perfect. I savored each bite, felt the warmth of the broth spread through me, and suddenly, the world didn’t seem so bleak anymore. The colors came back, the noise of the mess hall felt alive again, and I was present, really present, for the first time in weeks.
I don’t know what caused that shift. Maybe it was the sun finally breaking through the clouds, maybe it was the simple pleasure of a hot meal on a cold morning, or maybe it was just time for the sadness to lift. But whatever it was, it worked. The gloom was gone, replaced by a warmth that I hadn’t felt in so long.
As I finished my meal and stepped outside, the sun was shining a little brighter, and the air felt warmer. Everything seemed different, lighter, as if the world had tilted just a little bit on its axis, bringing me back to where I needed to be.
Looking back, that Thursday morning taught me something important: sometimes, the things that bring us back to life are the smallest, most unexpected moments. A plate of Maggi noodles on a sunny morning might not seem like much, but for me, it was everything. It reminded me that even in the darkest times, joy can find its way back to you. It might come in a different form than you expect, or at a time when you least expect it, but it will come.
And when it does, it’s like that first slurp of Maggi after weeks of gloom — simple, warm, and exactly what you need to feel human again.
Fast forward to today. I have a job I love, a family that feels like the best group of friends, and I’m pursuing a career I’m passionate about. But here I am again, tangled up in that same old gloom. I haven’t slept well in weeks, and the rain has disrupted my routine. My rhythm is off, and I’m stuck, waiting for another moment of clarity, another unexpected break in the clouds.
I’ve got so much to do — research papers for my thesis, tasks I’ve been putting off — but instead, I find myself mindlessly scrolling through Instagram or watching movie trailers on YouTube. What am I doing? How do I break out of this cycle of stress and avoidance?
I just need to find it again — my magical Maggi. I’m not sure when it will come, but I have to believe it will, soon. Or I’ll wait for the sun to shine. Maybe that helped. Or maybe I just need to finish my stuff, and I’ll be happy again. I’m not really sure. Foggy times indeed. I’ll keep you posted, if you care.
