Yog Rahi Gupta
Akash was always on the move-meetings to attend, projects to complete, deadlines to meet. Life was a constant rush, and in the whirlwind of it all, one constant remained-his mother’s calls. Every morning, without fail, she would ring him, her voice a melody of concern, care, and, at times, playful reprimands.
“Akash, did you eat your breakfast?” she would ask.
“Mom, I’m 48 years old; I can take care of myself,” Akash would reply with a smile, though he secretly loved her attention.
“Age doesn’t change the fact that you forget to take care of yourself,” she would counter, her tone filled with the gentle authority only a mother possesses.
But as the days passed, Akash noticed a change. The calls grew shorter, her voice quieter. The robust energy that once filled their conversations was slowly fading. He brushed it off, attributing it to her age, telling himself she was just tired, nothing more.
Amid his busy life, Akash’s own family was starting to feel the strain. His grown-up children often complained, “Dad, you never have time for us. When was the last time we went on a vacation together?” Akash would promise to make time, but work always came first, and those promises were often forgotten.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Akash returned home to find the house eerily quiet. The usual aroma of his mother’s cooking didn’t greet him at the door, and the TV, which she usually kept on as background noise, was off.
“Mom?” he called out, but only silence responded.
He found her sitting in her favorite chair by the window, a half-finished cup of tea beside her. Her eyes were closed, her hands resting peacefully in her lap. She looked serene, as though she had just drifted off to sleep.
But Akash knew. The stillness in the room was not that of peaceful slumber but of a final rest. He kneeled beside her, his heart pounding in his chest, the reality of the moment crushing down on him like a weight too heavy to bear.
“Mom… please, wake up,” he whispered, his voice breaking. But there was no response, only the quiet that filled the room, a quiet that seemed to echo the finality of time itself.
Tears filled his eyes as he realized that the one constant in his life, the voice that had always been there, would never call him again. The void she left behind was vast and hollow, a chasm that no amount of work, success, or distraction could ever fill.
In the days that followed, Akash found himself lost in a sea of memories. He recalled the times she had called just to check in, to offer advice, to tell him a story from her past. He remembered the way she would laugh at his jokes, even when they weren’t funny, and how she always knew exactly what to say when he was feeling low. The regret gnawed at him-he had lived only two hours away, but he hadn’t visited her nearly enough.
His mother’s passing was a profound loss, but it was also a wake-up call. The realization that he had been too caught up in his own life to truly cherish the time he had with her weighed heavily on his heart. He regretted not spending more time with her, and not being there when she needed him the most.
The loss of both parents changed Akash. He began to reevaluate his life, understanding the importance of time spent with loved ones and the fleeting nature of life. He started to do more charity work, volunteering in the community, working at soup kitchens, and doing seva in temples and gurdwaras. The values his parents had instilled in him-the importance of service, humility, and love-became the guiding principles of his life.
Akash made it a point to pass these values on to his children. He started taking them on trips, spending more time with them, and involving them in his community work. He wanted them to understand that life is not just about work and success, but about the love and kindness we share with others.
One day, while sitting in the park, Akash met an elderly woman who reminded him of his mother. She was struggling with her walker, trying to find a bench to sit on. Without a second thought, Akash approached her, offering his arm for support.
“Thank you, young man,” she said, her voice quivering with age but filled with warmth.
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” Akash replied, his heart swelling with a sense of fulfillment he hadn’t felt in a long time.
As they sat together, the woman began to talk, sharing stories of her life, her family, and her lost loved ones. Akash listened intently, offering words of comfort where he could, but mostly just being there, present in the moment.
And as the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the park, Akash realized something profound. His mother’s voice, though silent now, would forever echo in his heart. The love she had given him, the wisdom she had shared, and the countless moments of simple, everyday joy-they would never fade.
The woman stood to leave, and Akash helped her up, watching as she slowly made her way down the path. And in that moment, he understood his mother’s final lesson: Time is fleeting, but love is eternal. It lives on in the kindness we share, the memories we hold dear, and the moments we choose to cherish.
Akash returned home that evening, the house still quiet, but the silence no longer felt so empty. He knew that his mother was with him, not in body, but in spirit, guiding him, loving him, just as she always had.
And in that quiet, Akash made a vow: to live each day with love and gratitude, to cherish the people in his life, and to never let time slip away without holding onto what truly matters.
Because one day, the calls would stop, the voices would fade, but the love they leave behind would remain, eternal, in the heart.
Life is fleeting, and time waits for no one. Cherish the moments you have with your loved ones, for they are the true treasures of life. In the end, it is not the material wealth or accomplishments that matter, but the love we give and receive, the memories we create, and the kindness we share.
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