Tick Tock ,the clock goes non stop and so does life till it hits the last speed breaker.Every one around you is on high alert and things turn sombre.The last minutes and the light at the other end of the tunnel is beginning to appear and one knows that its there.The soul breathes a sigh of relief and is liberated at last.
The wealth, the name and fame, the awards and rewards, the fun and sorrow all left behind for others to take care till they depart.The people connected with you as your near and dear ones, some for professional gains, some for social networking and others for just hanging around being part of the whole while you exist.
Then comes the time to remember the departed soul and the value it created in terms of human wealth.Did the soul really create enough happiness and cheer to keeps its memories alive? Was that soul just superficial under a garb or really genuine and selfless in its pursuit for peace and happiness?How do people measure this?We do the formalities of remembering the soul till day 13 and thereafter its plastered to the walls and probably left till next year where one has to complete the rituals again.We do love everybody till they are around us in person ,physically.Once departed , all we have are the memories which too fade off a few months or years later depending on the strong will of the people or the contribution one has made in this life.We are just passengers in this journey called life taking a train and alighting at our destinations when the time comes.If we make this world a better place while we are here for others to live in when we depart , then the departed soul really would be remembered for ever.
Value of life priceless.other wise it would be just a few to a few million dollars of materialistic wealth created which is useless after you depart.So create value for others in this life and make your life priceless.
Your article Got me thinking thanks! My take of living a life would be something like my favorite poem "The quiet Life" by Alexander Pope.
ReplyDeleteHappy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixt, sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.