Evening sky, particularly if it is smeared with gloomy clouds about to sprinkle water on us, is a perfect time to ponder about questions hitherto not bethought. I first thought about the marathon runners I witnessed today morning up close near the finishing line. Endurance, patience, dedication, all kind of heroic feelings deluged me. Maybe some of them are jobless, some have a sick mother at home, god forbid but some could be running with a recent heartbreak and this race might be someone's sole means to survive. What may the backroom drama be, the 26.2 miles long exhibition is a marvel of human achievement. Every marathon should be telecast live on TV and every kid (?) should be compelled to sit through them.
My thoughts now drift to the Masspike highway visible from my office window. I was just in time to catch the Fung Wah and the Lucky Star buses on their way to New York. From Boston. Taking someone closer to their dream, someone away from their dream and someone from one dream to another dream. Just like in the morning, I am a spectator on the sidewalk, with a feverish desire to join, watching this game of life.
Life. Death. wonder, is there life after death? This has hovering above in my mind for several weeks now. If I die today, what becomes of me? I haven't been bestowed the InterGallactic prize yet, so leave aside the question whether I would be missed much, but what is death after all? Isn't it defined, medical nitpickers may excuse, as the termination of life? Can we blame our language for this syntactically ill-formed question: can there be life when there is no life? Nay, I doubt!
As beings, we love to live. Rather, it is a biological necessity, this desire to survive. And, methinks this is a design decision, death is necessary for life to continue en masse. So, we wonder about death as an unknown state, like we wonder about the great depths of ocean or about the restaurant at the end of the universe. It is unknown, furthermore, it will be always unknown, out of physical reach. What is beyond can not be answered with any magic tool, however well engineered it be. We can only think about it, and jai-ho,
anyone can think about it, no qualifications necessary. So we think about it.
The same curioisity that made Sputnik possible is behind this cognitive exercise. Except it costs much less. Or does it?
When I was young, as we were getting our toes dirty into the waters of Chemistry, we heard that Potassium Cyanide is the deadliest (artificial/natural/any?) poison. Naturally, the inquisitive among us wanted to know the "taste" of KCN. We were later told that it would be salty, since it is chemically a "salt" but we heard this interesting story. A chemist couple, mad in their pursuit of the taste of KCN, did the following. The husband touched his tougue to KCN and tried to chalk down the taste (yes, chalk, not pen, we did not trust ball point pens to make a mark at the first stroke). He was barely able to draw a curve. His wife did the same, and she was able to complete the curve to an "s". Nevermind what the creative writer might have intended, we made our own conclusions: KCN is either sweet or sour or salty (not bitter and so ... progress made), KCN is deadly deadly and the chemist couple were stupid ... they could have written down all possible tastes on the floor and had to point at the right taste before laying flat. Someone ought try this method and we will resolve one of the greatest mysteries foxing the chemistry curious among us. Well... who is going to bell the cat?
Same problem with the question of life after death. There does not seem to be a way for anyone to figure it out and also let us know. Even who are "jatiswar" (in bengali, I don't know how do you describe those who can remember their "previous life") seem to carry no delusion about the inter-life interval.
Death being an eventuality, we all have to face it. How is it to die? Does it hurt? Medically it cannot; just like someone who is so badly burned that her/his nerves are also destroyed cannot feel the pain. But still there might be psychological or other pain associated with death. What about the moment of death? Is it short, is it long? Do "we" leave our body and float in the air as they show in the movie (I am serious, some interpretations of death include out-of-body experience ... the soul leaves the earthly body). I sometimes have awful dreams in which I would be struggling to free myself from something, and wanting to scream and throw my hands and legs. But for some reason, in reality my body would not take any action ... possibly because my "real" sense organs did not perceive the illusive threat. And somehow "I" could feel that I am unable to do anything despite my efforts. I often wonder if people with limb paralysis have to live with this feeling; all my energy to wriggle a finger would not deliver anything better than a vacuous movement. Panic, sweat, death-experience; I cannot describe in words this incredible feeling of being forcefully silenced but it is horrible when it happens to me. Does death carry such morbidness with it? Or does it free our soul from this bodily confinement and thereby ensure a peaceful onward journey. The legend of the
swan song, the relaxing gasps of the dying old, the smile at the corner of the lying face - I wonder if they actually mean anything or are subject to our endless interpretation.
What after? Is there really a hell, a heaven. Well... this question is settled if you are god fearing. The question is how good exactly is heaven and how stinking is hell? Do I really have to hang upside down smelling jumping bubbles of boiling oil? If I had done my two good-turn knots every day when I was a scout, could I really dance and make merry and not have to work (well... what if I get bored and might want to work for a change?). Is there a rebirth? Is it mandatory? And the cycle of life begins again.
I read this wonderful story long ago by Emile Zola wherein he nicely describes one possible experience of death and life after; in "Dead man tell no tales" the protagonist was miraculously alive when everyone thought he was dead and buried him. He however managed to unearth himself but when he returned, which was prolonged due to unfortunate circumstances, he found his wife
happily married to someone else. The main part of the story is about his terror-rich experience as he, and everyone around him, thinks he is dying. I had to dig out the story to quote its ending:
No, I'd done the right thing in dying and I'd certainly not be stupid or cruel enough to come back to life. ... I'm no longer afraid of dying, but death doesn't seem to want anything to do with me, now that I can see no point in living. I'm afraid he's forgotten me.
There is great deal of difference between survival, which is what I meant above by
living, and actual living. We all know that. There are many dead among us chugging along to fulfill the duty of our species. Unfortunate it may sound, but some are born dead and never know that never lived. This is a separate line of thinking that I am not thankfully concerned about right now.
Is death really The End? Some of those who are (un)lucky enough to fathom the difference between living and survival might have been troubled by this question. Most people see it as the end but for some, it is the means. A process, a journey, to a different state of "living", may not be necessarily better but hopefully less worse. People who wilfully court death might be doing so to escape the present; any other alternative to life would have suited them fine. Also there are people who will embrace death to reach a different goal e.g. suicide bombers; they too, are not really attracted to death as such. But in all cases, the question remains, do we carry our feelings when we leave our brain and heart behind? Once shown the red card, will the reason matter to us anymore? The final bugle seems to carry this secure feeling of immortality; I am a wave of experience and after I die, you can still feel me but not see me. Catch me if you can.
Endless questions. Their answers will forever elude us. But we live among hopes. And we live to hope.
Fare thee well.
