The WHY that bothers all thinking men and women is :
Why does life exist? Why is one born? From a tiny honey bee to a massive elephant they all go through the same process as a flower in a flower bed
Outside my wide window in the east there is a flower bed of red roses. In the wee hour of dawn, as another day begins in that endless cycles of dawns and dusks, I often keep looking reflectively at this flower bed - the buds that are preparing to open up, the roses in various stages of bloom and the petals that lie scattered in the flower beds.
That more or less sums up life.
The purpose of life is something that will, for ever, remain the ultimate unsolved enigma.
The whole creation is blessed with deceptive disillusionment. Inspite of sheer futility of this impermanence, of the endless chain of births and deaths that links the first human beings with us, we go through the whole life mechanically, like zombies, with disdainful unconcern.
The clerk who demands a small 'speed money' to keep your file moving and the man at the top who is syphoning away millions of public money and stashing it in the Swiss Bank are both in the same state of mind. They seem to be oblivious of the ultimate, the finale.
When I visit a graveyard or a cremation ground I often wonder who these people were. I 'imagine' through their lives, through their life's journey of hopes and despairs, through their struggles and success. It all ended up here. in a graveyard or a cremation ground.
And then I go into the same reflective state of mind as that when I am watching the flower bed of roses outside my eastern window at dawn - watching those scattered rose petals.
The sheer similarity hits me. The 'WHY' remains unanswered !
"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, and under
Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and—sans End!
(Omar Khaiyyam)
****
No comments:
Post a Comment