A fight between me and my mother actually prompted me to jot down my thoughts. Yesterday, when I was being celebrated for my existence, the person who happily evicted me from her womb, was talking about death. And I found it to be very poetic. My mother is an emotional person, she was having her weak moment but being a writer deep down, her words pierced through my heart. I was very upset about what she said to me, because that's something I would never ever wish to hear from her again. I tried to understand her pain, but realised her agony is bigger than the happiness that would have otherwise captured her proud motherly heart.
In my writings, I have often talked and wrote my thoughts on life and death in different ways and shades. It is the reality of the world. There is no running away or hiding from it. We could glorify or demean it. But it with us always.Maybe Shakespeare's monologue from As You Like It, " The Seven Stages of Man" might bring sense to some. Or the Ashrama system - Brahmacharya, Grihastha, Vanaprastha and Sanyasa; would throw light on the the cycle of life theme. It depends from person to person as to how they understand and react to it. As writers, we could agree, criticize or be ignorant about it. But somewhere deep down, I feel that whatever I write is directly or indirectly connected to life and death.
This is not a poem or a prose, but I am taking out my helpless rants and cluster of thoughts and connecting it with the prompt.