A simple question has intrigued humans for a long long time. What happens after we die? What exactly is death? Why is it still a mystery to us? Made absolutely inaccessible to the understanding of mortals till the day it comes beckoning.

And being a mortal, I too am intrigued by death. Before you call me a nihilist or something of that sort, do think about it yourself. What happens after we die? As superstitious beliefs say, does our soul escape out and fade into the realms of space and time? Or do some of us end up in ‘heaven’ and the not so fortunate ones in ‘hell’? Or do we take birth again in the form of something which may include from a microbe to a blue whale and the cycle goes on again?

We don’t have an answer. We don’t have an answer to how the mind reacts as it fades into oblivion, a state of infinite limbo, into endless nothingness while the flesh and bones lay there as a memory of who we once were, or perhaps the illusion that we were something. Something significant. An illusion of course. An illusion which we do not realise until the lights dim and ultimately fade out.

Some say, a person on his deathbed gets a glimpse of everything he did in his life flash in front of him. Giving him once last chance to savor the happy moments that he created and feel the pain of the misery and misdeeds he did and felt over the course of his life. What goes on a person’s mind when he goes through such an experience? Traumatizing is it? The endless longings to make things right. A chance to correct those mistakes. A single opportunity to go back once more, to turn around instead of walking forward, to say the words instead of keeping them at places dark and unrecoverable. A longing to live. Again. It is traumatizing.

Perhaps that’s why death is ever mysterious. Perhaps that’s why it is beyond the understanding of a mere mortal, a speck of dust in this infinite universe, a fish in the endless ocean. A curious creature, a creation of god, the primal one, the fittest, the survivor. Always hoping. Helplessly.


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