“Let us rid death of its strangeness, come to know it, get used to it. Let us have nothing on our minds as often as death. At every moment, let us picture it in our imagination in all its aspects. It is uncertain where death awaits us, let us await it everywhere. Premeditation of Death is premeditation of freedom. He who has learnt how to die has unlearnt how to be a slave. Knowing how to die frees us from all subjection and constraint.”

Michel de Montaigne

I trust the title of this blog hasn’t intimidated you, and I hope you are generous enough to spend a few minutes indulging me. As 2023 draws to a close, a wave of festivity envelops us. Contrary to expert predictions, there has been no economic meltdown, no hard landing. The Russia-Ukraine war continues without an apparent endgame. In India, we brace ourselves for the impending victory parade of Modi-Shah in 2024, with a sideshow featuring RaGa. The torchbearer of Generative AI recently navigated its own five days of Shakespearean drama, where money triumphed over lofty philosophies. Sadly, despite economic progress and technological leaps, 2023 showcased once again the simple human frailties of hubris, greed, and envy. Unfortunately, Tribalism, it seems, still triumphs.

Amidst this chaos and hope, as the clock ticks and the years pass, we cannot escape the second law of thermodynamics, the inevitability of disorder and randomness. In some dark recess of our minds, do we ponder our mortality, the dreaded five-letter word – death? Once we overcome the initial revulsion, perhaps we can see it with a bit more clarity. The wise Canadian singer, Leonard Cohen, captured it perfectly in his resonant baritone:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

Passing the milestone of fifty, we have fewer years ahead than we have lived. And, It’s liberating to think of the time that we have left. We’ve weathered some part of our mid-life crisis, and for many, the corporate career is about to conclude. If not, you might already feel like a dinosaur in your office. A few new words like PAS count, mammograms, enter friendly conversations.

Existential questions start swirling in our heads: What have I done? What will be my legacy? How much money do I have? What will I do once the title is gone, and the phone stops ringing?

“We’re all going to die, all of us; what a circus! That alone should make us love each other, but it doesn’t. We are terrorised and flattened by trivialities.”

– Charles Bukowski

The certainty of death can help in jettisoning all the excess baggage we carry. With that newfound focus, we can deal with what is true, meaningful, and therefore beautiful. It is our quest for life – to live – when the death sentence is hanging like the proverbial Damocles sword– that we can start a true, meaningful journey. One starts living when one knows that one is dying. In this blog, I explore death from three different lenses: through an epochal movie, Buddhist philosophy, and the words of a contemporary poet.

Ikiru: A Cinematic Exploration of Life and Death

Let’s begin with a movie. One of my favourite filmmakers, Akira Kurosawa, asked profound questions about the meaning of life in the remarkable film, “Ikiru.”

Life is brief
Fall in love, maidens,
Before the crimson bloom
Fades from your lips
Before the tides of passion
Cool within you,
For those of you
Who knows no tomorrow

Life is brief
Fall in love, maidens,
Before the raven tresses
Begin to fade
Before the flame in your hearts
Flicker and die
For those to whom today
Will never return

Gondola no Uta – theme song from Ikiru

Ikiru is one of the most humanistic films you will ever watch, despite its focus on death. It’s a timeless masterpiece. From the very first frame, every scene reminds us of the forbidden subject – death. Paradoxically, the film is titled Ikiru which means To Live. Kurosawa made Ikiru in 1952, before Seven Samurai but after Rashomon. In the backdrop of Japan coming to life post-WWII, the film revolves around a lowly clerk, Kanji Watanabe, facing imminent death.

In the beginning, the narrator introduces us to Watanabe, who is merely passing his life without living it. His spiritual death precedes his physical death in the piles of files he dutifully serves for thirty years without taking a single day of leave. It’s a life without passion, purpose, or dream.

A terrified Watanabe, in his despair, runs around to find meaning in his last few days. He tries hedonism, but this drunken stupor doesn’t last. He fails to resolve the emptiness of his life. He latches onto his younger colleague, Toyo, in an attempt to reclaim his youth. Through Toyo, Watanabe discovers that his staff has given him the nickname of ‘mummy’ for his cold, lifeless disposition. Toyo embodies everything Watanabe wants to be in his life – vivacious, zestful, and finding meaning in her toy making. Watanabe becomes further isolated, separated not only from his staff but also from his son.

Through Toyo, Watanabe discovers that even in his dying days, he can still do something meaningful. His face glows, and there is a purpose in his steps. In the backdrop, Kurosawa shows a birthday celebration, a poignant moment reminding us that the true birthday celebration comes when we know the true purpose of our life. In one of the film’s most celebrated scenes, Watanabe, on his last day, is shown on a swing in a children’s park that he toils hard to get built over a cesspool (what symbolism!) while the song Gondola na Uto plays. Even after more than seven decades, Ikiru remains a satire against individuals buried deep in an inane worklife and against a society that robs people of their purpose and enforces conformity.

With Ikiru, Kurosawa reminds us that we can only truly live when we face imminent death. The movie articulates that death can bring crystal clear focus and clarity to the perplexing issue of life.

Nagarjuna and the Philosophy of Emptiness

Let’s take a dive into history and explore a philosophical perspective. Lately, I have been hugely influenced by Nagarjuna, a prominent Buddhist philosopher of the Madhyamaka School of the Mahayana sect, who probably lived around the 2nd century CE. Nagarjuna is known for his philosophy of ‘shunyata’, loosely translated as emptiness. Shunyata is not nihilism but a deeper understanding of interdependence and impermanence. Death is viewed as a natural and inevitable part of the cycle of existence, and understanding the concept of emptiness helps one grasp the transient and impermanent (Anitya) nature of life and death. Nagarjuna’s philosophy challenges the concept of an inherently existing self (Anatman). The idea of a permanent, unchanging self is considered an illusion. In the context of death, the dissolution of the self is not a true annihilation but a recognition that the self lacks inherent existence. Death, from this perspective, becomes a transition rather than a definitive end.

I have taken so much space to make sense of life, but poets have another way of getting to the heart of the matter, using just a few words to get to the meaning. I have always loved Fahmeeda Riaz’s poetry.

कुछ लोग तुम्हें समझाएँगे
वो तुम को ख़ौफ़ दिलाएँगे
जो है वो भी खो सकता है
इस राह में रहज़न हैं इतने
कुछ और यहाँ हो सकता है
कुछ और तो अक्सर होता है
पर तुम जिस लम्हे में ज़िंदा हो
ये लम्हा तुम से ज़िंदा है
ये वक़्त नहीं फिर आएगा
तुम अपनी करनी कर गुज़रो
जो होगा देखा जाएगा

In 2024, I hope you find the courage to push yourself out of your comfort zone and seek a new challenge. May you create a better version of yourself, and in that struggle, find peace and love yourself a little more.