“Life is the train, not the station.” (Paulo Coelho)
Everyday at around dusk, life and death meet
each other in the silhouettes of light and darkness as two strangers coming
across each other in a desert mirage. As their eyes meet they take grave
decisions without uttering a word of pleasure or distaste. Death decides to live
and life decides to die, though only for a matter of hours. The compromise is
reached without arguments; the covenant agreed without dispute. For a moment
nobody knows who is who and what is what. An immaculate peace facilitates the
transformation and nothing is rushed to eventuality. The sun, radiant and just,
endures its death with patience and grace. It falls from its attained heights
into an unfathomable abyss of nothingness just like a Buddhist monk slipping
away into a spell of meditation in search of nothing but himself. Slowly,
silently, unnoticeably, it extinguishes itself and dies. But, is it death after
all? The darkness, on the other hand, spreads itself gracefully and soberly
like the gown of a bride. There is nothing alarming about it; no rustling, no
haste. All this happens everyday. For some of us it takes but just the wink of
an eye; for others, it takes ages. Yet there is a method and purposefulness
that catalyzes the whole process. The hesitation and the deliberation must
impart that the sole purpose of life is not death itself. And, that of death is
not to sustain till eternity; that there is no chaos in the thing that we fear
to be “the end”. If not the beginning, the end must be the transition to the
beginning. Life cannot simply be a mere wastage created out of human neglect
and folly. To “pass out into nothingness” can never be its purpose. Its destination
does not lie in the abyss of death but in what is beyond this valley of
shadows. The station is never the end of the journey; a new expedition starts
after every station with a different taste, different companions and different
landscape…..the train never stops for good.
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