# The Story of My “Hibernated Wish”

From Balance Sheets to Blank Pages

For thirty-five years, my life was governed by the rhythmic ticking of the office clock and the uncompromising precision of financial ledgers.

As a banker, I lived in a world of “now” or “by the end of the fiscal year.” There was little room for “someday.”

But “someday” is a persistent thing.

I’ve come to realize that many of us carry what I call a Hibernated Wish.

It is that quiet, flickering desire—to paint, to travel, to cook, or in my case, to write—that we tucked away decades ago.

We put these dreams on ice, not because we stopped loving them, but because the responsibilities of making a living demanded all our warmth.

When I retired, the silence was deafening at first. The figures and data were gone, leaving a void.

But in that stillness, I felt a familiar stir. My wish to be a writer, which had been dormant since my youth, began to thaw.

Many people view retirement as a “winding down.” I’ve chosen to see it as a defrosting season.

Retirement isn’t the end of the book; it is the moment the protagonist finally stops working for the plot and starts writing it.

It is the realization that while your career might have a mandatory end date, your curiosity does not.

There is a common myth that creativity and “newness” belong to the young. We are told that if you haven’t mastered a craft by forty, you should simply stick to what you know.

I am here, with my keyboard and my newly minted blog, to tell you that logic is wrong.

In banking, an expired check is worthless. In life, a dream does not lose value simply because it has been put on the shelf for a while.

In fact, my “hibernated wish” of writing is much richer now than it would have been in my twenties.

I now have a lifetime of observations, a career’s worth of discipline, and the perspective that only comes with time.

Transitioning from a world of spreadsheets to a world of sentences was intimidating. I worried if I had “missed the boat.”

But the beauty of a hibernated wish is that it waits for you. It doesn’t care about your age, your previous job title, or how many years have passed. It only cares that you are finally ready to listen.

If you are reading this and feeling a slight tug at your heart, that is your wish waking up.

My Prompt for You Today: What is one “hibernated wish” you’ve been afraid to wake up? Is it a language you wanted to learn? A garden you wanted to plant? A story you wanted to tell?

Don’t worry about being “late.” The sun doesn’t ask what time it is before it rises; it just shines.

I invite you to join me in this season of defrosting. Let’s see what happens when we finally give our oldest dreams a little bit of light.

BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE

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4 replies

  1. Wonderful post Verma! Very thoughtful and inspiring :D.

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  2. The entire concept of a hibernated wish is fascinating. Which implies the idea of a fat bear. These wishes that sit under those metaphorical layers of fat.

    No time but now to start but now.

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  3. Verma ji, this piece speaks directly to the quiet war we all fight between duty and desire. Your metaphor of the “hibernated wish” is going to stay with me—especially the image of retirement as a defrosting season, not a winding down.

    I retired from teaching last year, and for months I just stared at the wall, waiting for purpose to knock. Your words made me realize: the knock comes from inside. I’ve started sketching again after forty years. My lines are shaky, but my heart isn’t.

    Thank you for showing that curiosity doesn’t expire—it just waits for us to stop pretending we’re too old to begin. You’ve given me permission to be late, and that feels exactly on time.

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  4. This was achingly beautiful Verma ji. 🤍✨
    The idea of a “hibernated wish” and a “defrosting season” touched something very quiet inside me. There’s such tenderness in the way you wrote about beginning again not with regret for lost time, but with gratitude for finally arriving at yourself. And that last line… “The sun doesn’t ask what time it is before it rises” I think that will stay with me for a long time. Thank you for giving forgotten dreams such warmth, dignity, and hope. 🤍

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