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Things Matter. Or Don’t

Life is full of paradoxes. We might be as inconsequential as a drop in the ocean.

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Things Matter. Or Don’t

A bud fails to unfurl; but with countless buds blooming and exuding their fragrance and dabbing their varied shades onto the atmosphere, its absence goes unnoticed.

It matters only to the tiny bud, for it died before living.

One matters most to oneself. The world carries on with or without, or the situations involving another.

The deafening applause of approval, the humiliation on being disgraced or ignored, are all too familiar to achievers and non-achievers alike. But whether we have tasted success or failure, when we are no more, what we were becomes meaningless.

Scores may die in stampedes, accidents, attacks. A personal loss is a tragedy, but in the broader scheme it is just a news item. It does not matter. Penury too makes us indifferent, callous, expendable. Who cares what happens to others, or even to oneself?

Sweltering heat can keep you tossing and turning through the night, but all is forgotten when, in the wee hours of dawn, a stream of cool air ushers in the fugitive slumber. The sleepless hours are forgotten. Hard toil becomes insignificant when one arrives at the goal. Nothing matters, finally, except the end.

Conversely, rain matters, for it tempers the scorching heat, slaking the thirst. The tragedy of drought is all too familiar. But it can also flood and devastate. It follows, rain matters.

Health determines the quality of life. Love gives it dimension. They matter. We cannot do without them. It is foolish and facile to say money doesn’t matter. It enables some to pass away in bed attended by the best doctors; poverty forces others to die on the pavement, untended. True, die everyone will.

One can travel by public transport or in an air conditioned, chauffeur driven car. Both will reach their destination, but money will decide the degree of comfort or discomfort.

True, money cannot buy love, peace, an extra gasp of breath. But it can make life easier and more comfortable.

Money matters.

Life is full of paradoxes. We might be as inconsequential as a drop in the ocean. But every drop counts in making the ocean, every perambulating ripple gives it its motion. One man cannot change the world, but one can make a small difference in a small area. And the final is a sum total of the parts that finally coalesce into a whole. Like bricks in a wall.

Unimportant in slick social circles, we are still precious to our family; the laborer, verbally abused and exploited through the day by the contractor, is welcomed by his wife and children at home in the evening.

In the final analysis, everyone is alone, and yet no one can live in isolation. Assistance and concern make up the warp and woof of communal life. But we require also private space to grow, to think, to decide.

 Things matter

and they also don’t.

Some believe in the divine, some don’t. It doesn’t matter. What does is to live in peace with oneself and others.

It doesn’t matter that you fall; it matters if you cannot get up.

It doesn’t matter if the night is too dark; it matters if there is no new dawn.

Irretrievable loss, terminal illness matter, if acceptance and courage do not step in.

Some things matter, some don’t. Differently for different people.

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