The raindrop and life

It’s strange something as insignificant as silence itself is sometimes our sole link to an external world, I wondered sitting by the window. Just like now.
Nothing stirred out there and this silence, a form of nothingness, carried to me in itself a lot that pertained to the external world.

There was a quiet tap on the cobblestone pavement, faintly audible in the hushed silence. Apparently, another rain-drop had tipped the leaf and reached the ground. That had me wondering, how strange a companionship was that, a leaf lending hand to a raindrop falling straight to the end, albeit for just a few seconds.

Yet a bond so strong, so close is established that no acquaintance, no nothings are exchanged; and none are needed. Just an embrace, even with the knowledge of this relationships’ futility. And in that clinging of moments, they experience a relation never felt before – a bond so exalting that it diminishes the magnitude of the drop’s impending end – a second-long embrace that contains in it, a life-time of being together.

And just when the drop eventually tips off, hanging for a split-second on the last point of a leaf, the leaf bows down it’s full length to bid adieu to that dearest stranger – something it won’t do for anything else.

And the drop, it falls down, content and happy, containing the perfect understanding of the notion of life – which completes in the very last moment.

Coming to us mortal beings, it’s strange how late we grasp the actual meaning of things – and in a sense, that’s inevitable. Life’s true colors, those shades containing the vivid reality, apparently, are contained only towards the conclusion of its spectra. And one must traverse through time to tip that end – in fact, it’s that split-second before death, just before the last breathe escapes one’s lips, which completes our understanding of life – and we’re given no respite to contemplate it. The puzzle is finally solved; the exam finally over and there’s no need for one to be in the examination hall anymore.

To that briefest yet brightest sparks of conscience, where everything comes to one in a perfect understanding, death then commences – a conclusion of life, yet the completion of our understanding of it.

A final chapter to the journey….to meet at some other bend in time.

The leaf returns back from its prostrating posture to it’s former self – gloomy for a few moments and content yet again – the drop may become part of the cloud yet again some day and come down on it for another few brief moments – it knows and understands.

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