Life is so fickle. One moment you may be on the top of the world and in next moment you may literally be on the top of the world if you know what I mean. One moment you may be driving back home looking forward to a nice dinner and next moment you may be dead due to a bomb blast. And there can be more examples of how uncertain life is. In the next moment you may never see the people you care about ever again. You may never get to make that pending phone call again or finish those long due stuff on your “to-do” list. You may never get to say that “I’m sorry” or “I love you” ever again. One moment you are making money left and right and next moment you are dead before you could enjoy the fruits of your labor (legal or otherwise).
And yet we spend or shall I say waste so much time in quarreling, petty arguments, back biting, being mean, being rude, neglecting near and dear ones, procrastinating spending quality time or taking a break or calling up old friends, running after fame, money or some absurd religious beliefs, deceiving people, playing dirty politics, committing crimes and even killing hundreds of people. In short we are always postponing living. Without even knowing what is going to happen in the next moment, we are always postponing living in the moment. So I say make that phone call now. Go on that trip now. Meet those people now. Stop doing that crime now. Finish that work now. Spend that quality time now. Say that “I love you” or “I’m sorry” or “I care” or “I need you” now!! Before its too late and your time is up.
This post comes in wake of the sudden death of Ishmeet Singh, who had become a star overnight by winning the Voice of India reality/talent show on Star Plus. One moment he is a celebrity ruling over hearts with his voice and next moment; ashes. May his soul rest in peace. Death reminds me of this very famous poem.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible.
The cornice but a mound.
Since then ’tis centuries but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.