When flying from NYC to New Delhi, I sat with the book in my hand, and it hit me real hard that there was nothing that we took with us anywhere, not even time.
The time in my watch no longer valid for the destination we were headed to, and it didn’t hold true for the current location – high up in the stratosphere. In fact, it held zero relevance right then and there.
We only crossover with the stories in our hearts, the love and the suffering, our experiences and probably memories.
And what remains is the indelible impression in the hearts of those who crossed our paths, their conversations and experiences.
Then why is it that the youth and aged, men and women waste time often arguing over petty issues when it won’t matter on that last day.
Only if we understood the essence of life as a blessing and live in harmony – Hindus and Muslims, Indians and Kashmiris, parents and children, adolescents after the break-up of their life – just live in peace, understanding the other for what they could be saying, and not just what one wants to hear.
Maybe that would give us an India of our dreams and a society to cherish.