AND NOW TOMORRROW
By Vengrai Parthasarathy
The guide at the San Diego Wild Animal Park was in an expansive mood as all tour guides are. He was introducing the bird EMU,a large, flightless bird of Australian origin.
–somewhat like the ostrich. He wanted to say something special about the habits and habitat of this bird . “This bird”, he said with put-on earnestness “lives its life, one day at a time. Every day, when he ( which embraces ‘she’) wakes up in the morning-after,he remembers nothing—who he is, where he is—nothing whatsoever. Can’t place even his mother”, the guide stressed.
Of course, he was talking with his tongue in cheek, drawing largely from his fertile imagination. to keep the crowd in good humor. I thought about it. The idea was refreshingly new, even exciting.. My mind glided swiftly into a world of fantasy—I asked myself—What would life be like if the same thing happens to us, humans?
Just imagine. You wake up in the morning and you don’t know who you are. You stare at your mother or father or whomsoever you set your eyes on, . You blabber something—not any language, but some jumbled consonant and vowel sounds.. You have no moorings, no relationships. People around you float around you. You have no bonds of affection, love or feelings—only a vague fear in the presence of strangers. Dress? Shame?—Something like going back to the days of the Garden of Eden , to the days of Adam, the father of the human race?
If you are hungry you eat anything available, even if it means snatching it way from some one. Who has it.. Thirsty? Drink anything. No thoughts of cooking, or preferred tastes. No memory of Pizza which you loved once. With a blank mind you just wander where your legs take you..
Perhaps, you interact with others through gestures. Or, body language .It is an aimless life. The only thought is perhaps, survival and responding to bodily needs. And, may be some hostility. Yes ,sleep is a bodily need.. So, to sleep again.-to rest the tired limbs and fall into the arms of Morpheus.
Tomorrow. is another day. Every person ‘rows his own canoe’ so to say. When demand is more than supply, conflicts arise. Might becomes right…The stronger one gets the trophy. The stronger female or male of the species, as the case may be,.
wins the day. Nothing is old. Every day is a new day. Can such a life be bliss or curse? Was this the kind of life that the poet spoke about when he sang of “Dead yesterdays, Unborn tomorrows” ? Even mentally cruising on an imaginary magic carpet. Can be tiring. Surely, he was not contemplating the beginning of life. on a fresh slate every day.
When my son woke me up from my reverie, I was thrilled to recognize him. and all the others too. I was in San Diego, in California.. I suddenly remembered—there were
things to be done today (booking air tickets ) for unborn tomorrow (flight to Austin), remembering the dead yesterdays (of cancelled flights!)