Sometimes we just stumble into thoughts.
Like today, I was reading about a ghost town in India, Dhanushkodi. The town is in ruins…nothing remains but stories.
Once flourishing with living…breathing people, today it has nothing but the remains of what once existed. All blown away by a cyclone, one of the most powerful ones. All of it makes me wonder about the fragility of life and how we exercise absolutely no control over it.
We are fragile, life is fragile and death…well death is universal, more so inevitable.
Its funny how we create things..structures thinking they would stand. Behind every little thing we create, subconsciously the thought that it is going to stay after I am gone, stays.
What when I am gone? What will stay? Will I leave my mark? Will anyone remember me?
Most of us want to be remembered. Remembered for a lot of things we are and also for some things we are not. I am no different, even through my life I want to preserve things..moments. I want to be able to visit them again when I feel like. I collect all sorts of strange things for that matter. Be it movie tickets, generally insignificant pieces from the places I love, random words from conversation which now adore my cupboard and the list goes on…
It is human I suppose, to have the urge to keep things alive even when we know that everything eventually dies.
As a child, every time my grandma told me a story…after the story I thought about, how it has lived for centuries. The king and the queen have been dead for over hundreds of years and so are his daughters yet I am here listening to their life stories today. I secretly wondered, if someday when I am gone, someone would tell the story of my life. I was a child then. Today I wonder, if my story is worth telling.
No matter what changes, I want something to stand..if not my story then maybe a tree that I plant! As simple as that. When I was around 13, once strolling in my garden the idea hit me. I would plant a tree, a Banyan tree maybe…since, it lives longer. I will plant it and nurture it while I am still here and then it will be my mark!
Death might be disguised as anything. A natural calamity, an accident, an illness etc. It does not matter. The important thing is that it is inevitable. And while we can do nothing to change it, we can certainly preserve stories for posterity. Narrate your experiences…be open about them, if not to the world then just your family and friends maybe. You may not even realize how long a simple story might live in the times to come or what impact it might have.
Tell your stories…and if not, write them. And if nothing, then maybe you too can plant a banyan tree at least! 😀
Hope you find comfort with whatever you wish to keep alive even after death.
Image: Dance of Death (1493) by Michael Wolgemut