I spoke too soon. Right when I was so happy for one person having moved on after the death of her husband of less than a year, I hear the news of the passing away of one of my hostel mates. She suffered from liver cancer. An only daughter to her parents. I will be lying if I said that I knew her very well and I do not deserve to eulogize her. But it did make me recall a poem by John Donne.
"Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee."
I do not claim to suffer from depression each time a soul finds its way out of the madness that is earth. I am not being cynical for I use madness in the best possible way. This madness has a sense of beautiful chaos. Intertwined with its most apparent secrets you've pieces of the most inexplicable of truths. It overwhelms you and alongside fills you with a sense of belonging like nothing else can. When you look at the bigger picture and know that you're part of a much bigger family, the collective sense of achievement and joy outweighs the losses. But looking at the bigger picture is a tough job, especially when each one of us is programmed to look at self first and foremost. It is next to impossible, if not impossible, for most of us to think beyond a few set boundaries and goals.
Ah! I digress. Recalling the poem made sense for the instant I heard the news, the first thought, after feeling for the loss of her family, was the instances I had spoken to her. She was always very cheerful. It is almost an uncanny coincidence that each person who dies young somehow has the power to grip you with their cheery self and nonchalance.
Maybe her body knew that it'd give up on her soon and somehow shielded her from the chemistry of depressing and worrisome hormones doing the things they do on lesser mortals who have the luxury to whine and cry at the most frivolous of things for a long time to come. Whatever it was, she was very calm and cool about most of the things we students loved to fret about, for instance, the universally dreaded phenomena of exams. Every exam was easy for her. And mind you, she scored well.
These and many more instances flooded my memory. And I wondered whether those few moments with me made any difference to her life, cruelly short though it was. Did it make a difference in my life? I think it did. If I hadn't known her, maybe the sense of loss wouldn't have been so much. And the fact that we exchanged mostly just pleasantries wouldn't diminish it. The length of someone's life maybe predetermined. But one thing that I suppose we all do is take too many things for granted. The few smiles we exchanged taught me the difference each one of those smiles made, for I know that each smile and every word I've seen and heard has made my life better. They have shown me that I am a part of this big family. That I've been accepted. Thank you Rashmi and may your soul rest in peace.
pooF.
"Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee."
I do not claim to suffer from depression each time a soul finds its way out of the madness that is earth. I am not being cynical for I use madness in the best possible way. This madness has a sense of beautiful chaos. Intertwined with its most apparent secrets you've pieces of the most inexplicable of truths. It overwhelms you and alongside fills you with a sense of belonging like nothing else can. When you look at the bigger picture and know that you're part of a much bigger family, the collective sense of achievement and joy outweighs the losses. But looking at the bigger picture is a tough job, especially when each one of us is programmed to look at self first and foremost. It is next to impossible, if not impossible, for most of us to think beyond a few set boundaries and goals.
Ah! I digress. Recalling the poem made sense for the instant I heard the news, the first thought, after feeling for the loss of her family, was the instances I had spoken to her. She was always very cheerful. It is almost an uncanny coincidence that each person who dies young somehow has the power to grip you with their cheery self and nonchalance.
Maybe her body knew that it'd give up on her soon and somehow shielded her from the chemistry of depressing and worrisome hormones doing the things they do on lesser mortals who have the luxury to whine and cry at the most frivolous of things for a long time to come. Whatever it was, she was very calm and cool about most of the things we students loved to fret about, for instance, the universally dreaded phenomena of exams. Every exam was easy for her. And mind you, she scored well.
These and many more instances flooded my memory. And I wondered whether those few moments with me made any difference to her life, cruelly short though it was. Did it make a difference in my life? I think it did. If I hadn't known her, maybe the sense of loss wouldn't have been so much. And the fact that we exchanged mostly just pleasantries wouldn't diminish it. The length of someone's life maybe predetermined. But one thing that I suppose we all do is take too many things for granted. The few smiles we exchanged taught me the difference each one of those smiles made, for I know that each smile and every word I've seen and heard has made my life better. They have shown me that I am a part of this big family. That I've been accepted. Thank you Rashmi and may your soul rest in peace.
pooF.
1 comment:
It's generally true that those who have less time to live, live to the fullest. And even if you know don't know such a person that well, their passing away does bring a sense of grief somewhere in the corner of your heart. And all that is pretty well summed up by the lines of Donne.
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