Considering Death: Future

And then, the future. The Great Unknown I am being pushed towards. I do not go there willingly. But this is the only way.

The future is blank and bleak.

I live. I will until I am dead.

I am not unhappy. I am not happy either.

There is a live wound in my heart that continues to fester. I have learnt to live with it. It doesn’t mean I am not troubled by its existence every single day, every morning when I wake up, every night when I go to bed. At times, the wound oozes with puss and pain and discontent. These days are particularly difficult. Then the wound heals itself again. And a few days later, it festers again, accumulating puss.

On those days, I gaze at the distant. The Great Unknown. The Future. Like a daydream. Like a fantasy. I see my life as if it is on a film screen. As if it is happening to someone else. I do not believe in what I see. Yet what I see gives me some morbid hope.

Ten years from now, in an unknown city, under unforeseen circumstances, I meet someone one sunny afternoon. That day, 10 years from now, I will be of the same age the other person was and the stranger I will meet will be of the same age I was when I met the other person.

This is as simple as it sounds. The other person will be born again, somewhere else, with another name, another face, and one day I will just bump into him.

And we will dance the dance of destiny once again.

How will I know it is the same person? I will know. The moment I meet him I will be happy again. Like the fog that disperses from the lone, wizened tree in the middle of the vast, empty field with the arrival of the sun, I will be awake from these years of mourning and I will be happy again. I know, I will.

I will it to happen.

That person whom I will meet in the future is born somewhere. Right now, he is carrying on with his life somewhere, oblivious of the fact that we will collide one day and everything will change. It was then the stranger would wonder how we ever managed to stay away from each other for so long.

At that precise moment, that merciless fear, the fear of losing the object of your affection will return to haunt us. We will complete the circle. We will dance the dance of destiny.

Happily, this time, the onus will be on the stranger. I will be ready. I will depart willingly, goodbye or not.

The stranger will dance the dance of destiny.