2024-07-01
My friend’s grandfather died.
In his final 12 hours, sheer will kept him breathing, just enough to see his youngest grandson.
One day, I’ll fade like that.
The image resonates because I’ve seen him: old, small, frail.
It pushes me to rethink my life, to stop wasting time on my phone or in pointless work.
That I will ‘give out‘ like him. Like how you can’t ride further when you bonk, or take a set to failure. You can’t curl the weight despite wanting to, despite commanding your biceps to. Your biceps cannot obey. They’ve given out.
“Zindagi golgappe hi tarah hoti hai, paet bale hi bharjawe, mann nahi bharta.“
Are you living a life you’d be proud of on your deathbed?
Your are a sum of all your life’s moments.
You are time, bound by finitude.
Do you remember that?
Then why do you act like you will not give out?