“I wanted to stop, but did not know how to. I wanted to decline, but could not do so. That night, the cold drops of rain that the dark clouds poured on me, burned me. It burned every drop of hope present in me until all that remained, of me, was just a heap of ash. I was a heap of waste that could no longer be put to any use but one; the power of burning others to ash, as directed by fate”, cried death.
His eyes glassy with unshed tears, his shoulders slump in defeat, I saw death in a form no one ever had, can or ever will.
He enlightened me with a fact of life that we silly humans fail to comprehend. We are gripped with fear so damn tight that we do not realize how wrong are we. Have always been. When a person’s life comes to an end, whenever that may be, we blame it on death. We curse and hate death while the truth is that death is only responsible for separating your soul from the worn out body. We are unable to fathom that death merely follows what has been written and decided by fate.
“Why doesn’t anyone understand?” hissed death.
“I have been assigned this job by the almighty and am directed by fate. Is it so hard to grasp that what happens to them is an unfortunate event? And that I am not fond of taking away their loved ones but am forced to perform my duties?” he questioned.
His questions forced me to question my beliefs and views of the world and everything above and beyond it. His questions made me gasp as the wave of realization swept over me. I then understood how delusional we all are. I understood how our greed for the body makes us grieve and fear. How we hate someone who in fact frees our soul from the physical bondage, a body that cages us.
Death is a being who walks the face of the earth with a curse for eternity. A curse that makes us loathe him. But does he truly deserve our hatred?