when life dies inside you

            “Death is not the greatest loss in life.. 

Loss is when life dies inside you while you are alive.”

Read a friends message on whatsapp which made me reflect on the last 15 days of my life.

My life..yes I am alive as my best friend sleeps peacefully in her grave. She died young, just thirteen days after her 26^th birthday, leaving her family and friends equally shocked and completely inconsolable. With her, a part of me died too. I cant explain what it is. But there is something amiss. I can’t feel it or point at it but I just know that it is not there quiet right. From the past 15 days I haven’t done much but either slept, read random stuff or just stared at her facebook page for hours. Going through the pictures, her timeline, my timeline, all the comments, it is just unbelievable that she is not there anymore.  

For every moment that comes to pass, there is a before and after. Before that moment, there was life and after that, nothing. For the rest, the after is a space, a void that cannot be possibly filled. The bond that two people share is exclusive. It cannot be compared with any other. A person cannot be replaced. It is not humanly possible. The things you share with your best friend, things which you don’t have to say, she understands without your spelling them so. She is the information bank of all your disasters, all your shenanigans, your daily goof ups. She knows your thought process, how you react to situations, to people, to comments etc. Knowing exactly the how’s and why’s of whatever you would do when met with a certain situation. She knows how badly a thing affects you or how happy a single statement can make you. She knows what would cheer you up or what would boost your morale and knows perfectly well how to handle you at your worst as well as your best. She knows the idiotic you as well as the Miss perfect you. She has been with you through all, laughing with you, crying with you, being mean, being kind, by being a listener, a comforter, by just being there with you for you.

Your best friend is in a way your mirror image. You see a reflection of yourself in her. So what happens when she dies? The world doesn’t end, it goes on. You continue to live, but something dies within you. They say, time heals all wounds and you learn to cope up with the loss. You meet new people, make new friends, or strengthen some old bonds. But that space, that void, no matter how hard you try, can never be filled. There are so many things which were just there in between the two of you, that exploring the possibility of just explaining what you are thinking to another friend sounds stupid. And it is in such a moment, you realize that your life would never be the same for she did not die alone, but carried a part of you to the grave.

The Crippled Rickshawwallah

Have you ever wondered what your life would be,  if instead of two you had just one hand?  

Have you ever given it a thought how would your world be, if you lost your sense of hearing?

Never bothered huh?!! Guessed so!  Why should one entertain such absurd thoughts? Aren’t we too occupied with our own lives, pretty trifles that consume all our precious time? I too am no different. Then what made me imagine such a horrible scenario?  Well it was a 5min commutation back home that shook me inside out.

One fine evening while we were heading home, my brother received an emergency call from hospital.  He dropped me midway and despite the distance to our home being very less from that point, I decided to take a cycle rickshaw.  It was a bit late in the evening and rickshaws weren’t in sight. After a couple of minutes I saw one and as I signaled the rickshawwalla to stop I caught a glimpse of his right hand which wasn’t really there below the elbow. The man pulling the rickshaw had just one hand. With a lump in my throat I told him the address and sat on the rickshaw quietly. He lifted his right hand and waved to signal that he is going to take a turn. I sat in silence, knots forming in my stomach.

Thousands of thoughts churned my conscience. My house was barely at 5minutes distance. I could have very well walked back home if it wasn’t a bit late. But even if it wasn’t late evening, would I have really walked back home? The answer in all possibility is in negative. I would have still taken a rickshaw. I am a lazy ass. I don’t like walking distances, long or short.  Have a car at your disposal, tell the driver where you want to go and just sit back. Driver ain’t available then you do have public transport. Take a rickshaw even if you have to go just 2 blocks. Why bother your feet? Why take the pains of walking?

And there was this man-crippled, earning his bread by doing hard labor. After passing some minutes in silence I managed to ask him how he lost his hand. He said an accident occurred while working in a factory. Some machine fell and he instantly lost his hand. One moment- that’s all that takes to change your life permanently, irreversibly. One sole earner of the family getting crippled, imagine the plight of his family. If you are educated then even if you become physically challenged, you still have some options. You have the power of knowledge. You can take up some sedentary job. But when one is completely illiterate and completely dependent on physical labor then in such a case crippling of body can cripple entire family’s life.

But here was this man, crippled but not helpless. Earning his way to life by doing hard labor.

And people like me crib. We are born cribbers.  A breed of ever ungrateful people. We crib about everything. From cribbing about big noses, pimples and scars, fat which is visible only to our own eyes, shape of hands which no sane person would notice to issues like non clearance of exams, being unsatisfied with the job profile at hand etc etc. We whine, groan, complain about everything possible. As if the entire universe is conspiring against us. Life is being unjust and unfair to us.  Is life being unfair or are we being unfair to life?

As my home came in sight I was in a bit of dilemma as to what should I pay the man. My heart crying out for the lost hand as well as thoughts of my own ingratitude cluttering my mind. I handed him 50bucks instead of 15 and as I moved inside saw the glimpse of the man with one hand staring at the 50rs note in his left hand.

As I walked towards my room words echoed in my head- “I have such a big nose.” “Why do I have such ugly hands?” “God! How do I get rid of these pimple marks?

I have a body free of physical impairments. Senses that function properly and still the ungratefulness with which I crib about how big a nose I have? Shame.

"It is He, Who has created for you (the faculties of) hearing, sight, and feeling  and understanding. Little thanks it is ye give." [Surah23. Verse78 Al Mu’minun][The Holy Quran]