Life and Meaning

How can one go away just like that? Disappear suddenly with no notice and no further possibility of talking or meeting again.

My LIC agent was visiting his ailing father in his native Kerala town. The evening he reached he had a sudden pain in the chest. While they were taking him to a hospital he suddenly collapsed and died on the spot. The whole event, his daughter recalled later, took about two minutes; two minutes’ notice before going away forever.

He was 53 years of age and had no previous cardiac history.

I was on the way to my car on the Friday afternoon after offering prayers at my father’s grave who had passed away two nights ago when I saw a call from my LIC agent on the mobile. His assistant was on the line and was talking about a death. I thought she had come to know about my father’s demise and had called up to offer sympathies. It took me a minute to realize she was talking instead of my LIC agent who had passed away.

He had shared a bitter-sweet relationship with my father, as any insurance agent is bound to. My father had provided him with new business but would not mince words when he expected service, and the LIC agent would politely offer all assistance possible. When something was not possible to fulfill, he would call me and entreat sincerely to mediate with my father.

On his first visit to our house when I offered him tea, he accepted it immediately. Later on he clarified that he never refused any beverages offered because that provided him some additional time to converse with his customers. His whole business was based on conversations.

Just a week ago, as my father lay critically ill, I had called him up to seek his and his staff’s forgiveness for anything hurtful my father would have ever said to them. He called me immediately the next morning saying he had done as conveyed and his staff had forgiven my father and wished him good health.

That was the last conversation we had.  And ironically it wasn’t about a new policy or a premium to be paid, it was about forgiveness.

As I drove down to my house from the graveyard, my ache was no longer for my father but for this soft gentleman who peddled his business almost like an apology, who till that moment had always seemed as if he would be there when required. And for the shock and grief of his wife and daughter who had suddenly lost the only man in their life.

How does one go away just like that with no warnings, no time for a proper farewell?

And I wondered about the meaning of life. Most of us will not die at 53, not so suddenly without a ‘handover.’ Yet there can be no doubt that life is finite, temporary and insulated – in the sense that nothing that is acquired here can be taken forward.

And yet most of our striving, and consequently most of our pain is for acquiring.

It didn’t take much time to realize the futility of trying to decipher the meaning of life – for there can be no definitive answers; everyone would have their own meaning. It was rather more important to add meaning to life.

And I realized that no matter what one chose to do, it was important for it to be meaningful. That was the only way to ensure a life well spent.

40 Days with God – Death and the Pleasures of Life

How far are we from our death?

We were on the highway to Medina, travelling at 120 KMPH on a scorching afternoon surrounded by arid desert and rocky mountains – the Arab countryside is a tough environment. The front tyre under the driver’s seat (Gulf has Left Hand Drive) had burst at noon, but the driver had managed to keep the hobbling bus in control. After a 2 hour break for tyre change we were back on the road again and passing through one of the numerous over bridges. Suddenly the tyre on the front right side of the bus burst with a huge blast. The steering slipped from the drivers hand and the bus veered rapidly towards the right. The strong Egyptian driver stood at his seat and leaned heavily on the steering using his full strength to turn the bus left. The bus brushed the railing on the right before turning left and coming to a halt. A few seconds delay and we would have plunged straight into the underpass 200 feet below.

It is amazing how we feel death will not happen to us, at least not in the foreseeable future when it is happening all around; accidents, bomb blasts, cardiac arrests etc. That afternoon we were only a few seconds away from imminent death. I can never forget the huge stunned eyes of the driver. It is so odd to see a strong, heavily built man completely mortified and in fear – the fear of what could have happened.

How much of our life we spend in regret or fear of what could have happened rather than experience fully what is happening?

The burst tyre

There were two predominant reactions in the bus; anger and fear. Travel brings out the true self, we had observed in our opening chapter and you could see how. The angry immediately went about blaming everyone from the driver for not having checked the vehicle properly, to the travel company which provided the bus, to the tour operator and even the Saudi Government for trying to commercialize the pilgrimage. The fearful began to cry and pray. Very soon though everyone realized they had a fascinating tale to recount so most of them got on their mobile, including myself, either narrating the incident to friends and family or clicking pictures of the burst tyre for posterity. Death, no matter how certain or close, is no match for life.

That is probably how it should be. But should we not in our life know that it is eventually going to end and that end may be sooner than we think. And everything thus is temporary – all success and failure, all sorrow and happiness, all defeat and hurt. There could not be a greater motivation to lead an egoless life of forgiveness and love.

I was, to be honest amused by the entire experience. This was an incident outside our control. If we had full faith in God – and that would be a minimum requirement for being on the pilgrimage – there was no reason to worry or get angry. God would do what was best for us and our loved ones. Yet, when put to test it was so difficult to be true to that faith.

We reached Medina at 11:30 PM in the night taking 13 hours for a 7 hour journey. The Masjid-e-Nabwi (The Mosque of the Prophet) was just 100 meters from our hotel, separated by a narrow lane lined on either side with street shops which where were closed for the night. Inside that mosque were the tombs of Prophet Muhammad and a few of his closes companions. To imagine that the prophet lay buried just a few hundred meters away from where we slept made the conscience alert with reverence, gratitude and fear.

From the hotel window we could see the huge open portico of the mosque largely empty due to the late hours. There was a sense of such peace and serenity that made the turmoil of the day seem so unreal and distant.

Medina is 400 kms away from Makkah, but in all other aspects it is poles apart. The temperature is 7 – 8 degrees cooler making it very pleasant, there is far more greenery than the stony mountainous landscape of Makkah and the people are far more hospitable and warm. A shopkeeper in Makkah would require three inquiries before he would respond with the price of a particular item, with the attitude of someone doing a favor. In Medina, the moment you paused in front of a shop, the shopkeeper would come around, shake your hand and take you inside to show his wares.

Just behind the central structure of Masjid-e-Nabwi which houses the prophet’s tomb, is the huge newly built prayer hall. On my third morning in Medina, which was a Sunday, I was sitting on the open roof top of that hall having just finished the namaz-e-fajr or the prayers before sunrise. There was an amazing sense of peace and quietude like an unhurried village morning. The sky was largely clear except for a few stray clouds near the horizon and in the slowly fading darkness one could the see a few pigeons flying in the backdrop of distant mountain slowly taking shape. It seemed as if there was no world beyond this place.

Sunrise at Masjid-e-Nabwi

As the sun started to rise I could see the grey clouds on the horizon slowly turn orange and then after ten minutes, as the sun came up their color changed back to grey. It was a fascinating experience to observe as nature changed color and hue. How fortunate are those who derive pleasure from the everyday joys that life offers – the peace of a morning, the smile of a child, the indescribable thrill of an orgasm, a great line from a book, a break from sleep in the night only to realize there are still a couple of hours for the morning alarm. They require no passport, no visa, no huge flats in high rise apartments with higher EMIs. Nature puts no price for its pleasures.

I walked back to my hotel room as the sun started to become strong. The shops had still not opened and at the corner of a narrow by-lane a small tea vendor was selling hot tea with biscuits and local bread. A mat lay spread on one side where the pilgrims who couldn’t afford private tour operators who provided food along with accommodation sat and enjoyed their morning tea.

I went to my hotel, picked up a cup of tea from the hot pot kept in the lobby and went up to my room where everyone was still asleep. It was like the Sunday mornings of my early youth and I felt if I switched on the TV there would be Rangoli playing on Door Darshan.

Medina is tranquil where Makkah was intense. Even the rituals at Medina are simple as compared to the physical, exhaustive circumambulations at Makkah. Was this part of the grand design? Does the calmness and peace after the toil and the intensity help you uncover another facet of your own self, help you probe even further within your own recess?

We will try and understand ‘how’ it impacted in the next chapter.