Mortality
It is that time of the year again, when I get to remember that I have grown older.
This post however isn't going to be about me, whining about my problems. In the matters of the Universe I am but an insignificant speck of dust that has never mattered, and never will.
Today I am going to talk about someone I used to know. Someone who was a very close friend of my father's. Someone who was a brilliant person and a teacher in the truest sense.
Dr. K was my Father's senior in college. He was different because he hung out with a bunch of people regardless of what subject they were studying. He was a Physics major, and he was friends with everyone - commerce folks, comp science nerds, botanists (hey Dad), artists - people from all backgrounds, fields of study and walks of life. He travelled all over the world, studying , researching before finally the bug to teach bit him and he got back to India.
From what I understand and the (unfortunately) little I know about him, he wasn't welcomed at most premier institutes back home at that time - nepotism seemed rampant. He decided to help whoever he could, becoming a professor, and holding many key positions at various points of time.
I met him when he came to Bangalore, when my dad took me with him while visiting. Dr.K had taken up one such position in one of our colleges here. He was frail, but you would never suspect that he was in bad health - he was very very sharp, his eyes clear and was always eager to help anyone who sought his advice. His knowledge of device physics was second to none, and his thoughts on the future of various industries that ran the world were very unique. What stood out the most to me was his passion to teach, his dreams (even though his health didn't let him pursue them) of providing a unique education, to overturn the general way things were done. Hearing him speak about how he would improve on something, or demonstrate how he could teach a particular concept was an eye-opener.
We got the news of his passing early this morning. It was devastating to my father, who was going to meet him soon. Coronavirus and the humdrum of daily life kept them on the phone every morning. Today, my father questioned his mortality. I could feel him wonder about the futility of our existence, and how fleeting human lives were.
I wondered too. I am growing older with each breath I take. Soon I will be middle aged, with other problems to think about - my failing health, my family, the slow, burning , EXHAUSTING fight that all the people of my gender go through on a daily basis, and the soul-crushing routine of hardships and MORE hardships that life throws at us with surprising regularity.
I haven't travelled anywhere, haven't experienced different cultures, haven't spoken to enough people, haven't owned a pet, haven't met my friends in a long time - I could go ON and ON! There are so many HAVEN'T's in my life, and there doesn't seem to be any change happening towards righting them! What is the point?! One day it could be me who died of liver cancer, but there wouldn't be anyone who remembers me at all! And perhaps more importantly - I wouldn't have enjoyed my journey either!
Life goes on. I will forget this day, I will forget what I am feeling as I write this. I just hope I don't forget what mortality is, and that I, like everyone else have come with a timer set. When the last grain of sand trickles down, I wont be given a second chance, wont get a do-over. I must remember - I am mortal. And nothing can change that.
You will be dearly missed Sir. RIP.
Comments