A Fleeting Life

6-year old Arjun to Malini: "Amma, what happens when somebody dies?"
Malini: "They go back to God."
Arjun (after mulling over it): "When does he send them back?"
Malini: "He doesn't. He keeps them with him."
Arjun (in tears now): "No! He doesn't keep them! They'll come back!"
How do you respond to that? All Malini could do was to try and calm him down with some platitudes.

When I heard the above exchange, my immediate thought was that at least in this respect Arjun takes after me. Malini was a bit startled hearing this, but matters of aging and death have always bothered me - even as a kid. Very early I sensed the transitory nature of life and this used to affect me greatly. My sister and I grew up in various cities outside Kerala, but would visit most summers. Those were carefree days and I would look forward to spending days and days playing with cousins and other kids in the village. Then one summer everything was different: the same games that had so fascinated us just a year ago seemed juvenile and uninteresting. The kids I used to play with, all seemed to have other interests and didn't care much to hang out with this once-a-year visitor. One of my favorite cousins was several years older than me and I could sense the distance that developed as she reached 'marriageable age.' I can still recall the sense of betrayal I felt when I learnt that she had been secretly seeing somebody. I realize now that I was being selfish and should have been supporting her instead of being upset. Not that my support would have counted for much - her family opposed that marriage and she eventually married somebody else. Her story is one of life's unexplained tragedies - she is bright, goodlooking, loving, and with nary a character fault, but the thwarted marriage was only the start of her miseries. They continue even today.

For several years after Malini and I were married, I was ambivalent about having kids. Sure, I enjoyed playing with children and I could charm almost every child I met, but was I prepared for all the non-fun stuff? I had a clear-eyed view of what having children meant and was not convinced that I was up for it. There was always pressure from parents and relatives of course, but I could resist that. Then my BIL gave me a reason that resonated with me: Its through our kids that we renew ourselves. Suddenly I found a way to deal with my always-present undertow of melancholy over the changes that time wroughts.

And that is what happens now: As I watch Arjun and Abhi do their antics and enjoying life, my worries about the passage of time fade to the background. Of course they never really go away - Attending Arjun's kindergarten graduation, I had to fight my thoughts about how he was changing and would soon be ready to fly the coop. Malini sometimes tells the boys, "I just want you to stay like this and never grow up." A sentiment expressed by and shared by many a parent, for sure. At such times, I keep silent - I know exactly how she feels, but the pragmatist in me refuses to give voice to such thoughts.

Much has been made of the 'power of now' (something our yoga master Sashi often alludes to), but there really is no better way to live life. Of course, this is easier said than done.