A Thought That Came Unexpectedly Yesterday evening, a rather random thought crossed my mind.
I imagined seven people standing together at the edge of a graveyard. One was Dr. Kuraivilla Money, another was Er. Kuraivilla Money, another an entrepreneur, another a pilot, another a politician, another simply Maddy, and the seventh a yogi. Each had taken a different path in life. Each carried a different identity, a different set of experiences, achievements, responsibilities and perhaps even a different definition of success.
Then I imagined the land of the graveyard looking at all seven of them.
Would the land know who was a doctor and who was an engineer? Would it recognise the entrepreneur because of the company he had built, or the politician because of the power he once held? Would it distinguish the pilot because he had spent his life flying above the clouds? Would it know which one had accumulated wealth, which one had accumulated knowledge, and which one had pursued spiritual wisdom?
Perhaps it would not.
The land would simply receive them all.
That thought stayed with me.
When Our Titles No Longer Matter
We spend a considerable part of our lives building identities. We introduce ourselves through our professions, achievements, positions and possessions. We say, “I am a doctor,” “I am an engineer,” “I am an entrepreneur,” or “I am a senior executive.” We proudly mention the organisations we work for, the degrees we have earned, the businesses we have built and the recognition we have received.
There is nothing wrong with achievement. In fact, ambition, excellence and contribution are important parts of a meaningful life.
But there comes a point when all these labels lose their power.
The graveyard does not distinguish between a CEO and a clerk, a millionaire and a person of modest means, a celebrity and someone whose name was never known outside their neighbourhood. The land does not ask about our designation before receiving us.
If that is the unavoidable destination for all of us, perhaps we should occasionally pause and ask a different question.
Not, “What did I become?”
But, “How did I live while I was becoming it?”
The Journey Matters
Perhaps what truly matters is not simply what we achieve, but the manner in which we travel towards those achievements.
Did we perform our responsibilities with sincerity, even when nobody was watching? Did we earn our money honestly, without taking a bribe or exploiting someone’s helplessness? Did we compete without deliberately hurting others? Did we succeed without cheating? When we had an opportunity to take an unfair shortcut, did we have the courage to walk the longer but honest path?
Even the smallest things may reveal the kind of person we are becoming.
Did we follow traffic rules when there was no traffic police officer nearby? Did we return something that did not belong to us? Did we keep a promise when keeping it became inconvenient? Did we speak respectfully to someone who could do absolutely nothing for us in return?
These actions may never appear on our resume. Nobody may give us a certificate for them. Yet they quietly become part of our character.
Our lives are not built only through the big decisions that everyone notices. They are built through thousands of small decisions that almost nobody sees.
The Question of Our Legacy
There is another question that came to my mind while thinking about the graveyard.
When we are no longer here, who will genuinely miss us?
There are people whose absence creates a deep emptiness. Their family remembers their voice. Their friends remember their laughter. Their colleagues remember their kindness. Years may pass, but something about their presence continues to live in the lives of others.
And then there are people whose absence brings relief.
That is a difficult thought, but perhaps an important one.
A person can have tremendous wealth and very little love around them. Someone can hold a powerful position and still leave behind very few people who genuinely miss them. Another person may never become famous, yet may have spent a lifetime making the people around them feel valued, safe and loved.
Which of these lives was richer?
Perhaps our true legacy is not what people write about us after we die. Perhaps it is what people feel about us while remembering us.
We Are Writing That Story Today
The interesting thing is that our final legacy is not created on our final day. We are creating it now.
Every conversation contributes to it. Every relationship contributes to it. Every act of honesty or dishonesty contributes to it. The way we treat our parents, children, spouse, colleagues, friends, employees, domestic workers, strangers and even people who disagree with us contributes to it.
A harsh word may take only a few seconds to speak, but the memory of it may remain with someone for years. Similarly, a small act of kindness that we barely remember may become something another person carries in their heart for a lifetime.
We often think of legacy as something we leave behind after death.
Perhaps legacy is actually something we are leaving behind every day.
A Belief About What Comes After
I personally believe that life continues beyond death. I have written about some of my thoughts on this in my earlier article, What Happens After Death.
If that belief is true, then the way we live this life becomes even more significant. The quality of the next part of our journey may depend, in some way, on the quality of the life we have lived here.
But even for someone who does not share this belief, the question remains valuable.
We have this one life in front of us.
How are we using it?
Are we becoming more compassionate or more self-centred? More honest or more comfortable with compromise? More grateful or more entitled? More peaceful or more reactive?
Are we becoming the kind of person whom we ourselves would want to live with?
Look in the Mirror
So, sometime today, take a few quiet minutes for yourself.
Put away your phone. Step away from your work. Forget your designation, your salary, your achievements, your failures and the opinions of other people. Stand in front of a mirror and look at yourself, not as the world sees you, but as you see yourself.
Then ask yourself one simple question:
How well have I lived my life so far?
The answer may make you proud.
It may make you uncomfortable.
It may even surprise you.
Whatever the answer is, it is not too late to change the next chapter.
If there are relationships that need healing, we can begin the conversation. If there are mistakes that need to be acknowledged, we can apologise. If there are habits that need to change, we can start practising. If we need guidance, we can ask for help from people who genuinely care about us.
We do not have to become perfect.
We only need to become a little better, a little wiser and a little more conscious than we were yesterday.
The Final Question
One day, all our titles will eventually become part of the past.
The doctor, the engineer, the entrepreneur, the pilot, the politician, the yogi and the ordinary person will all stand before the same earth.
The earth will not ask how impressive our designation was.
Perhaps the more important questions will have already been answered through the life we lived.
Did we live with integrity?
Did we love the people who mattered?
Did we make someone’s life better?
Did we fulfil our responsibilities sincerely?
Did we hurt people unnecessarily, or did we bring them some comfort?
Did we live consciously?
And when we are no longer here, will there be people who genuinely wish we were still around?
Perhaps, ultimately, the most important question is not:
“What did you become?”
It is:
“How did you live?”
And perhaps the most beautiful legacy we can leave behind is not a title, a building, a bank balance or even a name carved in stone.
It is the quiet feeling in the hearts of those who knew us:
“I am grateful that this person was part of my life.”
That, perhaps, is a life worth living.
🙏
ps: If you reached this far, Congratulations! You belong to that 10% special people! Best Wishes!
