"To be, or not to be, that is the question."
William Shakespeare penned this line in the renowned play Hamlet. It encapsulates a central philosophical dilemma about the meaning of life and death—whether it is nobler to suffer life’s hardships or to escape them through death.
As for me, life is no longer like a box of chocolates, as Forrest Gump once smilingly said. I am well past that era. That question seems almost childish now, in my Autumn years. These days, life feels more like a period of reflection before the pearly gates—or a plunge into depths where sins are to be reckoned with. And I have plenty of those.
Some wish they could turn back the clock to Spring and start again: to chase wealth anew, to right old wrongs, to take a different path toward their Autumn. There are those who now regret the drinking, the smoking, the poor diets, and finally give breakfast the attention it never had in their youth.
I once knew a chap, a salesman at a hardware store in our district. He remarked, “I’m nearly fifty now, and I’ve come to realize how much I neglected my studies when I was young. Had I pursued a proper degree or served an apprenticeship, I wouldn't be standing behind this counter today.”
Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles, some might say. To each their own, I suppose. I just gave him a sheepish smile and left it at that—no further comment.
We all come to terms with our Autumn years in our own ways—and believe me, there's no shortage of methods or modes. Sooner or later, we all look back—alone or with others—and pass judgment on ourselves. We reflect, we regret, we recount. Some pass on their lessons so others may avoid the same pitfalls.
I find it fascinating how differently we process our Autumns: some battle it, some embrace it, and some ignore it altogether. Hence, we have words like repent, hindsight, resent, and reflect in our language.
As for me, I prefer to let nature chart its course. Now actively retired and well into my seventies, I don’t spend much time dwelling on the years gone by. I take life as it comes.
Perhaps my outlook is shaped by my economic situation—not that I’m wealthy, mind you. Who doesn’t wish for happiness, good health, and financial security? But such privileges are reserved for a fortunate few. There always seems to be something missing, or something we feel we could have done better. Still, perhaps it’s best to let bygones be bygones.
Even if we could turn back time—like in the fiction of H.G. Wells—life might become unnatural and chaotic. That’s not something I would choose.
These days, I find myself reminiscing. I recall the good times and the not-so-good, wondering where the people from my past are now. I play my favourite songs over and over again—"In My Life" by The Beatles and "Yesterday Once More" by The Carpenters. It’s all music to my ears.
Turning back to the hardware salesman, I do sympathize with his regrets. But at some point, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. Better to start amending things once the realization sets in—if you can. Otherwise, tough luck, my friend.
Not a very kind thing to say, I admit—but that’s life. Fate is tricky. They say it’s written on our foreheads at birth, and all we can do is try to make the best of it. Not all animals are equal, as Orwell reminded us.
As for the eternal question of why—perhaps that is best addressed to God, if one believes in such things.
To err is human, and mistakes are part of the journey toward Autumn. I’ve made too many to count. So I sit back, smile, play the cards I’m dealt, shrug it off—and carry on. Que sera, sera. I firmly believe in the saying: laughter is the best medicine. Agree?
After Autumn, Winter waits patiently. We all must make that final journey. Some, unfortunately, rush their Autumns and cross over early.
I’ve read in the news of farmers in parts of India who, overwhelmed by debt, ended their lives. My heart aches for them. I’ve also known people personally who ended their lives so as not to be a burden to their families.
Right or wrong, that was their decision, and I can only respect their will. Still, it is deeply saddening to see lives end before nature intended.
This life—this one chance—is precious. We must try to make the best of it in whatever way we can. But we should not end it prematurely.
At the same time, we must appreciate the struggles of others. Think of the soldiers who died for their countries—many never even reached Autumn. I find that most commendable. Without them, we might not even have a land to call home.
Winter is inevitable.
It does not call us, yet we all go.
As the proverb says, all roads lead to Rome. It’s just a matter of time, mon ami.
So let us celebrate and treasure life, even in our Autumn years. Lounge back, relax, reflect, share our experiences, and confer whatever wisdom we can to those willing to listen.
For what it’s worth, life is precious—let us try to make the best of it. Food for thought, I’m sure.
Best of luck, and thank you.
