The other day when my mom was getting into bed, retiring for the day, she sighed in a matter of fact voice, exhaled deeply and said casually “ Hmm, one more day gone from our lives. Stock is getting depleted from the quota of allotted days.” The enormity of what she had just said sunk in slowly like the drizzle on a wet monsoon day that starts with just a slight shower and suddenly pelts down like a boulder in a landslide. It caught me unawares.
She left two days back, to spend a week with my brother, but what she said in such a matter of fact way made a tremendous impact on me that I am still floating in those words, submerged — much like the water that surrounds everything in sight after floods due to incessant rain.
It is so true. It is so simple. Why is it that we never think of it when we go to bed at night? I truly believe that each one of us has a quota of days on this earth. When the quota is over, no matter what, death comes calling. An ex-colleague of ours lost his only son, days before his 15th birthday. I was upset, aghast and distraught. I could feel the parents pain and anguish. You can read the paper report and the details here. Another friend lost her dad unexpectedly, just like me. Yesterday, in the newspaper there was another report of a young man and his girl friend who died because the motorcycle he was riding skidded and sent them both flying. Both were engineering students, just 21. My mom’s words kept coming back to me. Their quota was over.
These days when I go to bed I am so thankful that I have had another day to live—a day full of health, full of love filled moments with my children (and some exasperating ones too!), time to have a conversation with my husband, some time to talk with friends on the phone, to read, to admire a flower in the garden, to watch my fishes, to see the rain, to watch the sun rising, to hug my loved ones, to listen to music and above all to laugh.(The pictures that I have posted show the view from my terrace early in the morning and a Canna plant that bloomed in my garden, both captured a day back)
I don’t know when my quota will get over,--that is something that is not in my hands but I sure as hell am determined to enjoy each precious second of my quota.
There is simply no time to hold grudges, remember the disappointments, the failures, the petty quarrels, the bad memories. Life is too darn precious to lament or to weep.
The admen got it right when they said “Life is calling. Where are you?”