Tuesday, February 03, 2004

I needn't Worry

Had a rather disconcerting
dream last Sunday night.

In the dream, it seems, I had gone
to a Doc for my aching
legs (I had climbed a hill
that day) and as any Indian
Doc would, he took my
weight, height, ECG,
pulse, piss + blood sample
and yes, my purse,
and tells me
that I have only 2 years to live.
Of course, my legs he forgot
to treat.

That’s when I got up sweating
from the nightmare. I checked
and found my purse and
the pain undiminished…

Later during the week,
I got thinking.
What if it were true?
Would I feel bad ?
Would I feel sad ?

Perhaps. So many
unread books, so many
untravelled places.
So many people
I havn’t met.
So many people
I havn’t hurt.
So many people
I havn’t driven up the wall.
So many blogs I havn’t
scribbled.

If it were true,
can I do all the above in two years?
What about my near and dear ones?
Would they miss me more than
I would miss them ?

What would I do with my
book collection?
Who will dust, clean,
annotate and add to them?

Frankly, I felt I didn’t
fear death. I feared more for
things I was leaving
behind. Like the only dog-eared
book of my great- grandfather
that has survived.
There is no photo of him,
no trace of anything else
he left behind.
Except his faded
comments, criticisms, by the margin.
I probably treasure this book more,
than if his entire fabled
library were intact today.

There in I found the
answer .

Fragments of memory
are more precious.

Than an entire life in a CD.

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