This is an intriguing conversation. Let me start by laying down the background to this. I want to explore the idea that if I had just five minutes left to live what would I want to do. This thought also assumes that I am not terminally ill, nor have I done anything to be under a death by hanging order, nor have I been kidnapped and am under threat to be killed, nor am I in an aircraft that is about to crash.
To set the scene, it is about ten am on a normal working day. As normal as our days can possibly be. Normal these days is a difficult concept to grasp. The family is rushing around getting ready for their workday and suddenly there is a flash of light, the almighty makes its presence very clearly felt to me. It is indistinguishable. And the message of my passing is delivered to me. My time is up, and the angels are on the way. They shall be reaching in exactly five minutes to take me away. Five minutes, the lord says, is all that I can give you, so say your goodbyes. I am special as I am being warned and given time. Most don’t even get that. It can be just over in split seconds.
My first thoughts. Am I imagining this? How can the almighty communicate with me in such a clear manner? Should I ignore this and simply carry on. It cannot be. Precious seconds are wasted in this conversation with myself. I feel a little fear rising through my bones. My soul makes little shuddering movements, getting ready to shed the body. Suddenly I feel that it is not me, this is just my body. Tired, out of shape, hurting in parts. Over-used and under cared for. Neglected over the years. It is just a body. Fear is overridden by a sense of joy, now that I am about to move out.
For many years I have felt that I am ready to go. Life always felt like such a futile journey from birth to death. Death being the ultimate truth. And here it was. Staring down at me. Mockingly asking me — Were you really ready to leave? For so long I have been feeling that if I go now, I will have no regrets. Do I have any regrets? Here the answer is a loud and clear NO. No No No. No regrets at all. I lived it on my own terms, to the best of my ability given my circumstances. Could I have done things better? Sure, many things could have been done better. Many mistakes could have been avoided. That is hindsight though. At every stage of life, at every cross-roads, every day for that matter, I took the best possible decision, the best possible action given the circumstances, given the information available to me. So again a very clear NO. No No No. No regrets at all. No misgivings. No grudges. I leave with pure love for all.
I had never pondered too much about how my loved ones would manage without me. If the thought ever crossed my mind, I would tell myself that, will learn to manage. Time will heal their grief at losing me. They will remember me for a while and then the world will just go back to doing what it has to. I have no legacy to leave and honestly, I don’t believe in legacies. I will end up as that picture on the wall with a garland hung on it.
Thinking about my own death never bothered me. It was always my way out of the chakravyuh. The chakravyuh was described in the Mahabharat as an arrangement by the opposing army that was impossible to get out of. Only Arjun had learned the technique to beat the chakravyuh. And the legend goes that his son, Abhimanyu, whilst still in the womb, heard Arjun narrate the strategy to beat it, except the final bit as Arjun got called away. So, when Abhimanyu was trapped in the chakravyuh, he fought valiantly right till the end, but not knowing the final key he died fighting. Life for me is like that chakravyuh, and since I am not Arjun, my only way out is dying.
I drop whatever it is that I am doing, jump over to my wife and tell her. She yells out to the boys and then hugs me, tears rolling down. I hold her tight and apologise. She always made me promise that I would never leave her. That she would go first. She brings that up and I apologise and give her long deep kiss. It is the way I say. My cup of sadness also overflows and my tears well over. I am sad to leave her alone. I ask the almighty if she can come along. There is only silence.
The seconds are rolling by. The boys come running. And we all get into a group hug. I give them a kiss each on their foreheads. Make them promise that they will look after their mum. Not fight with her and not fight amongst themselves. So Bollywood na. Five minutes given like this will definitely play out like the end of a Bollywood movie. Tell them all to give my love to my parents, to my siblings, to my in-laws and my closest friends. I am blessed that I have several very close friends. The last few seconds go by in this surreal serene feeling, just being hugged by my family. Sharing tears and goodbyes. Then the moment of truth. The angels are beautiful. Tall beings clad in a single flowing white garment, as I always imagined them to be. A gentle hand reaches out with the warmest smile I have ever seen. I smile too. Like a baby, I hold the slender finger and simply follow.
This is how I would like the scenario to play out if I indeed got that five-minute warning from the almighty. This would be my most joyous possible exit, given five minutes. In generally good health, fit despite the niggles, strong despite the scars of life, embraced by the people I love dearly.
Written By Mohit Gupta
Week 40, September ’20
