23/04/2016
He used to wonder what death was. To him, it could mean either an end of existence or the beginning of a new one.
Which one to believe, he would often think. He was just 30, however he had rejected the popular view that he was too young to think about death long back.
Your hair either turn gray or you don't have them at all. You begin to lose bone, flesh and blood. You turn dormant and passive and you hibernate often.Your skin gets wrinkled and the eyes become sunken. You need a support to walk and slowly even that luxury is taken away. You turn either too fat or too thin. You need to be taken care of like a kid who has lost his appetite, zeal, zest, energy, passion, youth, smile, laughter, adventure and any leftover interest in life. Whether these are the true symptoms of death, he would wonder.
Some of these are also the symptoms of an early-age depression, he would argue with himself. The voice of his heart used to say something different. Death is too much cliched. Stereotyped. Typecast, he would feel. Can death be rendered superfluous? Redundant? Irrelevant? If yes, how? Can it be looked upon differently? If yes, how?
His heart would answer - "You die not the day you are dead, but the day you stop flowing like a tempestuous river. Thundering like a defiant storm. Drizzling like the incessant rain. Flashing like the colorful rainbow. Falling like the mighty water-fall. Dancing like the feather-stuffed peacock. Humming like the busy bees. Synthesizing like the fresh trees. Morphing like the mother earth. Flying like the giant clouds. Radiating like the scorching sun. Tranquilizing like the pleasant moon. Tantrum-performing like a mischievous child. Crying like a newborn infant. Laughing like a joker. And that very day, you die!"
"You either live or die. Never both."
