This is not a reflection
caused by any anniversary. We all eventually become adults. Just think back to
when as kids we wished so badly to grow up. Once we grow up, however, we
probably realize that it is not so fun being grownups after all. And we
wistfully look back upon our childhood days.
And eventually the moment comes when our parents die. It’s a
moment of transition in our lives. But why do we grieve when our parents die?
What a stupid question, one might think. But I preferred to think about that
when my father died.
I think we grieve because as long as our parents are alive, we are
still kids at heart as we once were. So we become orphans when our parents are
no more. I think we are all lucky to have parents – most of us anyway – who are
happy to have been our parents. They have learned to live with their kids’
limitations in skills or achievements in life. We too eventually accept our
parents for who they are.
So it’s a bond like no other. Immutable, everlasting, unquestioned.
It seems to me life is like walking on a rickety footbridge made
of wooden planks attached to steel ropes over a valley. Imagine the valley high
up in the mountains covered in mist. I think there’s such a thing somewhere in
Indonesia or Malaysia – a tourist attraction if you are so brave.
And if the mist is dense enough, obviously you will only be able
to see a little bit further ahead and behind you and beyond that, you’ll be
covered in mist in all six directions.
If you parents are alive, it’s like you can see behind you for
quite a bit – it’s not that misty. Once they’re dead, it’s as if the mist is so
dense that if you pause while walking the bridge and look back, you see nothing
but a deep fog and you don’t know what’s behind you and where you came from.
It’s like the whole world that you once knew has sort of vanished into
nothingness. You become a person without a past. That’s scary.
If you have children, it’s like you’re able to look a little bit
ahead on the rickety bridge and the mist is not so dense. You get to see WHERE
you’re GOING or you witness others ahead of you and you feel good.
What about those who have no kids and no parents left. They’re
truly lost, right? It’s like the mist has enveloped them from every direction
and they just keep aimlessly stepping one foot ahead of the other without
knowing where they came from or knowing where they are going.
Someday I realize that I will be that person who knows not where
he came from and neither where he’s going. Is that so bad?
We might leave children in our wake. May be Einstein and Feynman
did too. And may be the kids had kids of their own. And a part of the cursed
Kennedy family tree ended when JFK Jr. perished along with his wife without
leaving any kids. And Marilyn Monroe did not have any kids. And neither did
Kalpana Chawla or Sally Ride. But Gandhi had kids. Lots!
But we do not care so much about Einstein’s or Feynman’s kids as
we do about Einstein or Feynman. We love Neil Tyson for who he is without
reference to whether he has kids or not.
Whether our parents are alive or dead, we can at best look back or
CARE about our ancestors from 2 or 3 generations back. some family trees might
be traceable over five centuries. But I am not sure if it makes any difference
whatsoever – I am sure my ancestors five hundred years ago were probably
farmers somewhere in the same villages of India that I myself come from. But I
am not too curious about them. They were probably very backward.
But if you really want to attain immortality through fame, it’s
not quite possible to do that by being children of famous parents or being
parents to famous children. You got to do something BIG yourself.
And so we, the godless, childless ones (and parentless too
inevitably) continue to walk those planks one step at a time knowing not too
well about our past and travelling to a future that is completely hidden to us
…
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