After the Ahmedabad plane crash, a picture has spread across social media—hundreds of half-burnt rupees scattered across the field. Bundles of five hundred and one hundred rupees—have turned into burning ashes and mixed with the grass. Half-burnt passports, torn identity cards, pictures of unknown faces, some documents covered in tears—all combined into a deep cry. In an instant, everything seemed to stop. The money that caused so much longing, so much war—is silent today, burning and gray. What a lonely death, what a cruel outcome!
Every day we run for money. Some wake up and catch the first train, some stay up late to sort out files, some mortgage their own joys and invest in securing the future. Some cannot give time to love, some snatch the smile from the faces of their children for ‘status’, some cast the shadow of calculation on relationships. At every turn of life, we think—‘If I get a little more, maybe life will be full’. However, the train of time stops us before we reach that 'perfection'.
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