Recently, a friend of mine lost his mother. It was tragic moment, for the call came untimely. Despite his stoic attitude, the pain he tolerated was indescribable. I was struck dumb thousand folds. Not even a single word came to my mouth. Only the whispers of mind wandered amidst the crowd. Abruptly, the thought of uncertainty clicked and reminded me that my days are also numbered and anytime, it may expunge my name from the list. Filled by the fear, I said some prayers immediately to calm my mind. But the more prayers I murmured, vaster the fear piled.
In the practices of bodhisattvas, the body is compared to an inn in which our very soul has sojourned. To check in and to check out is nobody’s assurance. So is inextricable death. It tails us like our own shades. It doesn’t compromise on smart, beautiful, rags or riches rather level them all indiscriminately. Rivulets of tear ran down his face as the emotions overwhelmed. He couldn’t keep his silence anymore. Perhaps, everybody felt the same impulse. I, on the other side felt like an inanimate objects because of the alarm. Steadily, I was sparked by the reality as more people amassed. The cry intensified in the next room which accelerated my delirium.
I stood on the square not knowing what to do.
In fact, the call has alerted everyone present there. Some offered butter lamps while others chanted for the well-being of the lost soul. Everybody wore that tensioned looks on their faces as if it were their last day on the earth. As the cry receded, the room grew more and more silent but the pain in everyone’s heart thickened. The anomaly of life is more of fading instants than mere happiness, I pondered. The room was gradually congested with air of melancholy and everyone was grief stricken.
I felt deserted by my own soul and thought for the safest place on the earth. It dreaded me even more. For a moment I deluded myself trying to escape the unavoidable. If it was not for his mother’s death, I would have never thought of the uncertainty of human life. The fear was injected instantly. Shortly after comforting my mind, I went near him and tried convincing his. To converge and to diverge is way of life, I uttered, to which he nodded forlornly. He then retorted tentatively, I wish I was never born.
I pitied and said when life beats us heavily, we should give in gracefully.
Perhaps, the end has retold me to live meaningfully. Quarter of my life had been duped thinking about the future, even when my present was not certain. I felt sad not because of ephemeral time but because of the lack of my own inner wealth to comprehend the way of life. His eyes were puffed-up badly. At the crack of the midnight, consolers vacated leaving insurmountable hollowness aside. This exodus exactly depicted how our own soul escapes from us. The family decided to leave for funeral the same morning.
I headed back home alone chanting OM MANI PADME HUNG for the deceased and for the entire sentient beings.