The Illusion of Time

Mridula Kaul

It has been a few days since a dear friend lost her Mum in India. The other most dreaded C word after Cancer. No underlying conditions, no prolonged illness – just a sudden end, even when recovery was in sight. No time for pain and certainly none for goodbyes. No fitting end and no closure. And in the days that have followed, there has not even been enough time for grief. Phones and doorbells ring as well-meaning, concerned loved ones check on my friend whilst being social distancing compliant. Meals are being sent and the process of unpacking and packing ‘dabbas’ is carried out like a well-oiled machine. She on the other hand while stoically attending to all that needs doing, including checking on family back home in India who are poorly, still wonders if she will be able to wake up from this ‘dream’ and hear the familiar voice of love, childhood memories and pure joy, for just one more time again.  

How can anything be so sudden, how can it be fair to not be allowed to have a last glimpse, to say the last farewell? How can life be so abrupt? We think we will find the time to go on that much awaited, longer than the usual two-week trip back home and spend time with family ‘once the kids grow up’; have a leisurely meal ‘if we can manage childcare’; manage a longer phone chat with our parents after ‘the kids have finished homework’. Why do we have to wait for an irreversible event to realise that we do not have the luxury of time? If there is one thing this pandemic has taught us, it is this – we have no control over the future nor do we have the foggiest idea of what it holds. All we have is the present, and yet we do not even do that full justice because we are either thinking of what was or what needs to be done. We live with countless regrets wondering if there was something more we could have said or done that might have made things easier or different without once trying to change the status quo. “We,” as Ralph Waldo Emerson says, “are always getting ready to live but never living.’

Today, on this auspicious day of Navreh, the new year heralding new beginnings, let us make a conscious attempt to change that. Be present in the moment. Show your family you love them. Make time for that chat with your parents when they ring, better still, be the one to initiate the call – the world will not come to an end if your meeting starts 5 minutes late. Appreciate your child when they show you a drawing that bears no resemblance to you – social media can wait. Savour every moment, no matter how big or small; joyful or sad. Take nothing for granted and above all, be grateful, deeply, profoundly grateful for what you have right now because no matter what you think, it is probably more than many do.