Yesterday I had a dream. I was killed by a terrorist. Before I was killed I shot lots of terrorists, and then a politician whom I know very well killed me. I was dead.....I woke up from bed panting. May be recently the story of Hemant Karkare affected me a lot.
One day there is life. A man, for example, in the best of health, not even old, with no or very little history of illness. Everything is as it was, as it will always be. He goes from one day to the next, minding his own business, dreaming only of the life that lies before him. And then, suddenly it happens there is death.
Death after a long illness we can accept with resignation. Even accidental deaths we can ascribe to fate. But for a man to die of no apparent cause , for a man to die simply because he is a man, brings so close to invisible boundary between life and death that we no longer know which side we are on. Life becomes death, and it is as if this death has owned this life all along.
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