Yesterday lives only in your mind
September 2023
Yesterday lives only in your mind
News of a friend’s sudden demise and, subsequently, a wisdom message on her phone compel Laxmi Nair to reconcile herself to the impermanence of life It was a dull Friday evening, almost the tail end of June, and the rains had just begun, signalling the start of the monsoons. A slight drizzle that had welcomed the morning was followed by a heavy shower towards late afternoon. It cooled down all the pent-up heat in the environment.
For me, it was just like any other weekend, striving to finish my back-to-back meetings and jotting down to-do lists that inconspicuously creep in during discussions. Finally, at around eight o’clock, I decided to close for the day. I shut down my laptop, closed my diary, and wearily picked up my phone for some distraction.
The Shocker
As I scanned through my WhatsApp messages, I could see at a glance that many were just casual forwards. Then, suddenly, one of them caught my eye. It was from Aditya, a very close family friend. We had been neighbours for almost two decades and had grown up together completing school and graduation, and sharing all the ups and downs of life together. Consequently, a very strong bond had been formed between the two families; one stronger than those formed by familial relationships.
I quickly opened his message which read: “We lost Ashutosh’s wife, Aditi, last night. We are all in shock. Please convey the message to Aunty and the others as well.” My brain went reeling into a spin, throwing aside all the gathered thoughts and actions of the day. I felt numb for a second, then re-read the message again to check if I had read it right and tried to join the dots.
Aditya and Ashutosh as well as their parents had been our neighbours, and we always had each other’s backs through thick and thin. My sister and I were close to both, just like our parents were. Ashutosh had married almost 10 years ago, has two lovely daughters (aged eight and four), and was now settled in Atlanta, US. Though now we were all dispersed, we didn’t meet often due to physical distancing and everyone being busy with their own lives. However, when the four of us met, it would be so easy to pick up where we had left off.
Swamped by Unanswered Questions I called up Aditya immediately and got a few details: Aditi and the kids had been visiting family in India. It was very sudden; Aditi had started throwing up and had severe stomach pain. By the time a doctor arrived in 15 minutes, she had fainted in Aunty’s (her mother-in-law’s) arms. On examining her, the doctor found no pulse. She was 32 and had complained of no issues whatsoever until then. Ashutosh was informed, and he was on a flight to Mumbai.I could not grasp what I just heard, and my mind started throwing up all kinds of questions to which I had no answers: How could that have happened so suddenly without warning? Why did it happen? How would Ashutosh and the kids take it? How would Uncle and Aunty take this? What would happen to the kids? Do they even realise the gravity of the situation they are in?
A Disturbed Mind
The more I thought about these questions, the more I was badgered by an increasing number of them. I felt a sharp pain in my head, and my heart felt very heavy. I could feel myself becoming numb from what I had heard, all in the span of an hour. I questioned my own existence, the social and economic drama that plays out in our lives, and then the sudden calling of closure that can come at any time with no intimation.
Towards dawn, after being unable to sleep throughout the night, the pain slowly relaxed its grip on my heart and head. Waves of thoughts subsided, and my mind felt empty. I made myself a cup of tea and went and sat in my favourite corner on the balcony, looking at the sky lighting up. I took in the sights and smells of the surroundings—the earth still wet from the rains at night, the trees standing still, a few clouds in the sky, and the birds chirping, about to begin their day.I looked at my phone and saw a message blinking. It was a thought for the day, published by my guru’s ashram, and it read: “Yesterday lives only in your mind.” Any other day, I would have read it casually, contemplated on it a bit, and then gone about with my daily chores. Today was different. As I read this message, I felt the Universe was giving me answers to all my questions from the night.
Yesterday Lives only in your Mind Isn’t it true that what we experience during the day dies at night? It is not a physical death or closure, but what has happened during the day is over. We have no hold over it whatsoever. Yet we harbour this false notion of accumulating and hoarding—our thoughts, emotions, wealth, relationships, and friendships—all with the hope that we will carry it to the next day. Now, when I look at what happened to Aditi, this quote had more depth.
Aditi passed away, and since physical loss was involved, we were shattered. With that, everything else associated with her came to a grinding halt. However, daily, there is a silent loss of all that has happened to us. We have nothing that we can call ours tomorrow. What happened remains only in our minds, and similarly, tomorrow is a figment of our imagination. What we have is only today or NOW, and hence we must make the most of it to make it a memorable life.
The quote from the ashram made me see death and life in another light. It set me free from the pain I was reeling under.
“For Life and Death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. —Kahlil Gibran
Inspired by the spiritual teachers of the land, Laxmi Nair is an ardent devotee and seeker by nature. Write to her at laxmnair@gmail.com.