By Sourabha Rao
Entropy. Perhaps it does not have to be dreadful a realisation that all this is going to decline into nothingness. For after all, can we even fathom nothingness? Perhaps it is that very possibility that brings value and beauty to what is now, here. Would we truly value something that would come with the promise of eternity? Does a part of us savour that rather perverse joy of that hunt – to value and worship something, sometimes above oneself, despite knowing that it can all come crumbling down?
If an end to all this is imminent, then dear life, give me the strength to sing of what exists right before me here and now. Everything is what it is – the birdsongs; the bees and the bramble; the stream’s soft giggle and gurgle; the hungry and the hunted; the fire’s eternal hunger; the emptiness of the sky or worse, the illusion that it is; the loneliness of Earth, her madness of spinning around a thing that burns and burns and burns within; the chirp of the sparrow and the roar of the tiger; the abilities in us to kill and to die for others.
Dear life, give me the courage to abandon myself to plunge into this world’s dualities or some such human-invented delusion. Dear life, if nothing else, when I walk these less-trodden paths feeling gleefully small between these wise old trees, do keep my heart throbbing and aching for such questions and some, and to be acutely aware of the gratitude I must have for this gift of being born and alive at all.