I was just up; stretching lazily
after a peaceful, long night’s sleep. Father was attending his breakfast after
his morning shift of work. I was enthusiastically blabbering about my day’s
plan and asked if he would accompany me for an evening stroll. He never
replied. He seemed grim, shaken even. I imagined his spirits were weighed down
by his burdensome work. Hoping to lift his mood and divert his mind from the
mundane, I launched into the details of the most appealing aspects of my forthcoming
training in Chicago. A conversation about his children’s achievements, on a
normal day, makes him swell with pride and a smile lights his face despite
himself. Yet, he replied with the filmy dialogue, “kal ke baare mein mat socho;
kya pata beta, kal ho naa ho (don’t
think too much about tomorrow; there may be no tomorrow),” except that there
wasn’t anything filmy about the way he said it.
And so he enumerated the
encounter of an 11-year-old with the cruelty of his fate. The kid who’d only
just gotten into high-school full of excitement to explore and exploit his
newly found freedom was headed to school in an exceedingly-stuffed
auto-rickshaw. He fell prey to a grisly accident as the auto was hit by a
fully-loaded Heavy Goods Vehicle; the boy hit the road and was run over by
tyres double his size. All was chaos outside; for the boy, the world had grown
silent.
The news hit me hard. The boy had
only left his home moments ago, was still well in sight of his mother who’d
come to see him off; little did she know that it would be the last time they
bade adieu. He might have harboured dreams of being appreciated for an essay
he’d written, feared chidings for unfinished homework, planned a nice
tiffin-time with his friends, and schemed an eventful cricket game for the evening.
Yet, all of his plans for the day, for tomorrow or for the next year; all his
dreams about a career, an Audi or a girlfriend, now lay silent with him.
All men are aware of the fragile
nature of life, of the impending doom; yet, somehow, we manage to ignore the
harsh reality. Forgetting about this one certainty might be a comfortable
choice, yet, being aware of it might make us more certain about our actions,
plans, and priorities. Thinking of death as our one common end relieves you of
all fears, pride, ego, lust and embarrassment. Every tick of the clock becomes
a reminder to focus on what is most important to you before your time runs out.
The silver lining of the dark
cloud of death that invariably looms above us all is the recurrent reminder to
‘live in the moment’. Beware, that a full-proof plan of working hard in
twenties, marrying at thirty, spending time with family in fifties and being a
philanthropist in the sixties might just not work out. Every moment, there are
innumerable, unthinkable ways in which all your plans might hit a dead end to
rest in peace besides you. As Mark Twain so aptly put it, “Apparently there is
nothing that cannot happen today.”
So, prioritise today! Nurture your hobbies, keep your
promises, work hard and play hard, share unforgetful memories with your family,
spend money on outings, click pictures, laugh out loud, dance with your
sweetheart until your legs fail you, take a moment to express your affection
towards friends, say, “I love you,” smile and spread it everywhere you go. Take
time to play, to think and read, to laugh and sing, to “dream as if you’ll live
forever and to live as if you’ll die today,” take time to love and be loved.
I conclude with Steve Jobs’ words
that seem fitting here, “When I was 17, I read a quote that went something
like: 'If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most
certainly be right.' It made an impression on me, and since then, for the
past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself:
'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about
to do today?' And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many
days in a row, I know I need to change something.”
So once again, live in the moment; because this moment might
be all you have!
