02 EDITORIAL: THE THOUGHT OF

DEATH (VK-Sep 1988)

A GROUP OF college boys once came to meet Swami Vivekananda. They asked him many
questions and Swamiji answered them all to their satisfaction. Then Swamiji asked them this
question: ‘Can you tell me what is the grandest of all the truths in life?’ The boys racked their
brains for possible answers, but could not make out what Swamiji wanted them to say. Seeing
their puzzled faces, Swamiji himself told them the answer. The ‘grandest of all the truths' is, he
said, ‘We shall all die!'1
Not a very pleasant thing to be reminded of, certainly. But there it stands whether we like it
or not. That it is a truth, none can contest. Who dare deny death? The saint and the sinner, the
prince and the pauper, the rich and the poor, the man and the woman, the old and the young —
none has been spared, none will be. Death is perfectly democratic in its dealings. It recognizes no
distinctions. It accords no privileges. Everyone is born under a sentence of death. Among all the
uncertainties of life, death is the only thing we are really certain about. Today or tomorrow, a
year hence or after twenty years, some time or the other, in one way or the other, we have to face
the inevitable.
But why is this inevitable truth the ‘grandest of all the truths'? It is ‘the grandest' because it is
the key to life itself. All that we seek in life, all that we wish to achieve in life has this great truth
about death looming large in the background. We may try to close our eyes to it and oust it out of
our mind everytime it sneaks in. But we cannot forget it. Somewhere deep down in the
consciousness death and its fear lie deeply embedded. But we refuse to allow the thought of our
death to pervade our conscious mind. It is remarkable that, although we see hundreds around us
breathing their last, we think we shall live eternally. King Yudhishthira referred to this curious
phenomenon when the Yaksha asked him what the most wonderful thing in the world was.2 Just
as water refuses to stay on a lotus leaf, the thought of death refuses to stay in the chamber of our
mind. We like to think of life and all the joys if can offer. We imagine that death can give no joy.
Death is painful. The thought of death, we assume, would naturally bring pain and sorrow. Isn’t
there enough suffering already in the world? Why add to it by thinking about death? Why not
make hay while the sun shines? Why not enjoy life while it lasts, instead of clouding it with the
desolate thought of death?
What we forget is that life and death are not two different things. Life is the shadow of death,
and death is the shadow of life.3 Life and death are only two different names for the same fact,
the two sides of the same coin.4 If this is true, then how can you face life until you have learned
to face death? How can you understand life until you have understood death? How can you solve
the mystery of life until you have solved the mystery of death? To accept life and to ignore death
is to assert the day and deny the night. If death is to come one day, we must be prepared for it. A
dog’s death awaits the unprepared. Those who prefer to remain blind and deaf to the call of this
grandest of all truths — ‘We shall all die!’ — do so at their own peril.
The brave one, the bold one says, ‘If death is inevitable let me face this truth. Even if it
destroys me, I shall hold on to it. Truth shall prevail ultimately. Let me abide by its dictates
consciously.’ It is to such a courageous soul that Swami Vivekananda’s voice comes:
Look here — we shall all die! Bear this in mind always, and then the spirit within will wake
up. Then, only, meanness will vanish from you. practicality in work will come, you will get
 new vigour in mind and body, and those who come in contact with you will also feel that
they have really got something uplifting from you.5
How will the spirit wake up on thinking of death? Would it not, on the contrary, slacken and
break down, taking away from the heart all zest, all enthusiasm, all joy? How will ‘practicality in
work’ come? On the other hand, it seems to be the height of impracticality to begin mourning
one’s own death! Rather than getting a ‘new vigour in body and mind’ even the existing vigour
is likely to be drained away when one begins to think always of one’s death.
All very plausible doubts and fears, no doubt. But Swami Vivekananda is not advocating
here a theory when he asks us to keep the fact of our death always before our mind. Great
teachers don’t speculate. They don’t float theories and add to the already existing confusion in
the world. Great teachers — in India we call them ‘Acharyas’— don’t even ‘teach’. They
’give’—they give to mankind their own experiences, they share with the world the treasures they
have garnered from the abode of the Most High. Theory you can refute; experience, you cannot.
And it is Swamiji’s experience that he now gives us in answer to our fears:
Quite so. At first, the heart will break down, and despondency and gloomy thoughts will
occupy your mind. But persist, let days pass like that—and then? Then you will see that new
strength has come into the heart, that the constant thought of death is giving you a new life,
and is making you more and more thoughtful by bringing every moment before your mind’s
eye the truth of the saying, ‘Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.’ Wait! Let days, months and
years pass, and you will feel that the spirit within is waking up with the strength of a lion,
that the little power within has transformed itself into a mighty power! Think of death always
and realize the truth of every word I say. What more shall I say in words!6
Such has been the experience also of other great teachers and mystics of the world. The thought
of death, instead of producing any fear or despondency, seems to have filled them with strength
and bliss. Thomas a Kempis, a great Christian mystic and the author of that immortal classic The
Imitation of Christ, says: ‘Happy is he that always hath the hour of his death before his eyes, and
daily prepareth himself to die.'7
Let us suppose for a moment that a man comes to know somehow—through some divine
agency, if you like—the day he is destined to die. It is just a week away. There is no use running
to the best doctors in the town because, come what may, the day of his final departure is fixed.
Just seven days are all that he has in hand now. What would be his state of mind? The thought of
death would, to be sure, never leave his mind. Whether he is eating, talking, sleeping, reading or
doing any of the numerous actions we do in life, not for a moment would he forget that death
awaits him at the end of the week. This constant meditation on death, done almost involuntarily,
would bring about certain drastic psychological changes in him. Almost the first thing he would
realize would be that very soon he would be bidding farewell to all. He would have to undertake
the subsequent journey all alone. None would accompany him. None can. All the people he held
dear, all the possessions he had passionately gathered around him — everything and everyone
would be left behind. His friendships, his enmities, his loves, his hatred — all would begin to
appear so trifling, so paltry, so meaningless.
During those last seven days, would this man hate anybody? Would he want to cheat and
swindle other people? Would he be greedy? Would he lust after worldly enjoyments? Would
envy, jealousy, pride, anger, malice and hatred overpower his heart? On the other hand, would he
not want to be kind and loving to everyone? Would he not give away gladly his ‘possessions'
which, in any case, he has to leave behind at the end of the week? Would he not feel like blessing
even his enemies and detractors, and go to sleep peacefully at the end of the week?
 His whole outlook on life would be, as it were, completely changed. To every person he
would have kind words to speak and a helpful hand to extend. He would be full of love for even
birds and animals. In fact, to all creation around him he would be sending forth currents of love
and adoration. All who would come in contact with him would spontaneously feel his love and
affection and would reciprocate them in equal measure.
What an ideal life of seven days that would be! No jealousy, no hatred, no greed, no
wickedness, no selfishness, no lust. Full of love, full of kindness, charity, selflessness. All
hypocrisy would vanish. Intense sincerity and self-acceptance would take its place. Leading such
a blissful life as far as his samskāras would permit, this man would go to sleep, mentally
prepared to embrace the inevitable.
Now, look at our own lives. How unfortunate we are not to know when our end is to come!
The man we imagined above knew that he had a week in hand. Are we sure we have at least a
week ahead of us? None of us are. For, any of us may die just any time. We normally associate
death with old age and an unhealthy body. But don’t we see young people dying as well? Even
healthy ones? Haven't we now got accustomed to read in the daily-papers about murders,
accidents, wars, terrorism? About floods, earthquakes and droughts? About fatal diseases and
lethal drugs? Here are the words of Thomas a Kempis:
How many have been deceived and suddenly snatched away!
How often dost thou hear these reports: Such a man is slain, another man is drowned, a third
breaks his neck with a fall from some high place, this man died eating, and that man playing!
One perisheth by fire, another by the sword, another by the plague, another was slain by
thieves.
Thus death is the end of all, and man’s life suddenly passeth away like a shadow.8
There are numerous ways in which life may be terminated. We know not when our turn is due.
And yet, how presumptuous we become in our dealings in life! People make plans years in
advance. What arrogance to assure for oneself even a day more!
Tremendous therefore is the urgency before us to lead the kind of life the man ‘with seven
days in hand’ would lead. ‘Righteousness is the only friend that accompanies you even after
death,’ says Manu. ‘Everything else perishes with the death of the body.’9 Let us for the time
being stop expending all our energies for our ‘other’ friends who can accompany us, at the most,
upto the graveyard or the crematorium. Let us seek whole-heartedly this friend — dharma,
righteousness — who is to accompany us on our journey beyond. Once we succeed in
befriending him and making him our inseparable companion, all our ‘other’ friendships too will
become meaningful and a source of unalloyed joy.
Let us always bear in mind that one day we shall die and which that day is to be we do not
know. Let us never promise ourselves another day when we are about to retire for the night.
Before going to bed let us settle all our ‘accounts’ with the world. We may never live to see the
next day’s sunrise. If we rise, well, the Mother is gracious; She has given us another day, to live
a true life, shed all our impurity and strive for perfection.
Thus begins the ‘new life’ Swamiji speaks of. The old, narrow, self-centred life melts away
and in its stead a new life, broad and God-centred, takes shape. ‘The little power within,’ says
Swamiji, ‘has transformed itself into a mighty power!’ Equipped with this mighty power, man
overcomes the fear of death. The ‘new life’ makes man increasingly aware of his inner potential.
Death then is no more an extinction, a flight into nothingness. Death becomes another name of
life itself. The fear of death is just another aspect of the fear of life. Shedding away his physical,
body-centred weakness and limitations, man experiences [in Swamiji’s words] ‘the strength of a
 lion'. All fear vanishes. The constant thought of death gives man the power to conquer death.
And it is as it should be. One who meditates on ‘the grandest of all truths’ must be the supreme
conqueror, for truth always triumphs.10 One who holds on to the ‘grandest of all truths’ must
eventually triumph in the grandest manner.

References:
1. Talks with Swami Vivekananda (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama, 1979) p.496
2. अहन्यहनिभूतानि गच्छन्ति यममन्दिरम् । शेषाः स्थिरत्त्वमिच्छन्ति किमाश्च
र्यं अतः परम् ॥
3. Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama) 5:270, 2:177, 6:379
4. Ibid., 7:13
5. Talks with Swami Vivekananda, pp.496-97
6. Ibid., p.497
7. Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ (London: Blackie & Sons Limited), p.49
8. Ibid p.52
9. एक एव सुहृद्धर्मोनिधनेऽप्यनुयाति यः । शरीरेणसमं नाशं सर्वमन्यत् हि गच्छति
॥ —Manu-smriti 8:17
10. सत्यमेवजयते । —Mundaka Upanishad 3.1.6