Apu’s World

Some years ago, when I visited the Ajanta caves, I noticed a relief against the entrance to one of the caves, where the Buddha was portrayed in conversation with a woman. Our guide narrated the story of that panel, and indeed, the story itself was one that I had heard many years before that. It goes like this. A woman whose child has died hears that the Buddha is camping near her village. She goes to him, with the lifeless body of her child, and begs the Buddha to revive him. For after all, the Buddha is an enlightened Master, and this should be within his power to do. 

The Buddha tells her that he will indeed bring her child back to life, but before that, he says, “You must bring me a handful of rice, from a house where no one has died.” The woman rushes back to her village and knocks on each door, hoping to get a handful of rice from a house that death has not visited. But, at one, and then another, and then another, there has been a death - an old man, a young woman, a child - there is no house that death has spared. She returns to the Buddha, finally realizing what he has been trying to tell her. 

In more recent days, this story comes to my mind again and again. Regular readers of this blog would know that my family is going through a trying time, with the loss of a young cousin in an accident. While appreciating the wisdom of the Buddha’s words, and even finding some solace in them, I am still unable to digest the reality of death as it applies to me and my loved ones. Yes, death happens. Yes, life is fragile and no one can predict how strong the web is, at any point in time. Knowing this at a rational level, still one holds on to the illusion that life is strong and continuous, an unbreakable thread, shining and golden. Knowing that suffering is a part of life, yet, it is hard to watch when your loved ones suffer. 

With the sudden passing away of my cousin, it is as if I’ve opened my eyes and found myself on the edge of a precipice. A precipice that I didn’t know existed. Now, with the awareness of this precipice, comes fear. A suspicion that it is dangerous to love, to place one’s heart where it can be so easily broken. I have seen death before, but only of older people, where it was deemed ‘natural’, a fitting full-stop to life. Now, I am beginning to realise that death isn’t always so logical. 

One response is to consider that life is futile. When death can be so irrational, so arbitrary, what is the point of life, one wonders? On the other hand, two days ago, I was talking about this to a good friend, whose father passed away when she was 19. Her response was that while the death shocked her, it also led her to see better the preciousness of life, how invaluable is each second that we have left. 

apu In General