In Mahabharata, the major Sanskrit epic of ancient India, there is a famous episode in which the hero Yudhishthira, who is very thirsty, wants to drink from a pool which is owned by an invisible spirit. The spirit asks him many riddles before allowing him to drink, and one of the most penetrating is: “What is the most amazing thing about human life?” Yudhishthira answers, “That a man, seeing others die all around him, does not think that he will die.”
No one would deny that the body will grow old someday, that sooner or later it must fail and drop away. But to judge from our behaviour, very few of us really believe that this is ever going to happen to us. Have you ever noticed that drivers on the highway often slow down when they pass the scene of a serious accident? For an instant, while the evidence is before their eyes, there comes the sobering realisation that could punctuate any of the events of human life: “That could have happened to me!” Yet only a few minutes later they are driving along at top speed again, the reminder of mortality forgotten. It is the same when a member of our family dies, or a friend, or for that matter our dog. Even the death of an utter stranger, reported on the back page of the morning paper, can penetrate the routine of our lives with the same instant message: “Stop, remember; it is over so soon.” We reflect on it a minute, but soon we are going about business as usual, skimming along the surface of life, forgetful that in the end death is waiting for us all.
As we grow older and the body begins to register the signs of aging, reminders of life’s transiency are more and more frequent. Past the midpoint of our lives, when the pursuits and ambitions of our youth begin to lose some of their glamour, the speed at which life goes by is seen more clearly. Just yesterday, it seems, we were in high school; today we are watching our son graduate from college. We remember being a newlywed as if it were last weekend, and today we are putting the third candle on our granddaughter’s cake. Like the lilac, like the death of a loved one or a friend, all these are reminders that it is time to wake up from the dream that money or pleasure or prestige can make us happy, time to wake up and discover why it is that we are here.
When the alarm is ringing like this, the last thing to do is to pull the blankets up over our heads and try to fall asleep again. But most of us, because of our conditioning, seem to want to sleep on as long as we can. Our response to the body’s aches and pains, to the little wrinkles and grey hairs that signal the advance of time, is to try to hide them, to pretend that they are not there. We take a couple of aspirin, smooth on more cosmetics, double our dosage of Vitamin E, distract ourselves with travel or social life or some new sport, as if by not thinking about it, we could escape death’s notice forever.
In village India, it is impossible to ignore the imminence of death. Lives are interconnected; everyone knows everyone else, and it is all too common to hear that somebody you saw only the other day, somebody with whom you went to school or whose mango tree you used to climb, has shed the body. In the modern world, however, I think we have compounded our natural inclination to isolate ourselves from death. Despite all the current emphasis on “death and dying,” hospitals and nursing homes still hide the dying from us, and instead we are exposed to the unreal images of television and films and books.
To take one example, this is one of the reasons why so many people who think of themselves as fond of animals never stop to think how many creatures are killed to provide some of the luxuries they enjoy. Because death is not real to them, they are insensitive to the suffering of animals that are slaughtered for their skins or fur or tusks. People are simply not aware.
Death should never be faceless; it is always personal. Whether it is someone in our home, or a child on the other side of the globe, or even one of other creatures like the elephant or the fox, all of us love life; and all of us fear death. This is the unity that binds us all together, and as our eyes begin to open to it, we shall see life’s transiency everywhere we go.
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The above excerpts are taken from Eknath Easwaran’s book How to Understand Death.
Kalampedia 