Many people around me live in the future. I know a person very close to me who is constantly thinking about what lies ahead. In this age of commercialization, competition, and market-oriented living, most people seem to exist only in anticipation of tomorrow. Instead of enjoying the present day, they are preoccupied with what will happen after ten years. How will I look then? Will I still have the same life? Will there be someone for me? There is always a restless concern about the coming years. What will I give myself after one year? Will I be in a position to buy something new?
There are plans to purchase things after two years, projections about income growth, and calculations about future status. Today there is a job and a comfortable salary, yet the mind remains anxious about whether there will be a better salary or something more secure in the future. Instead of sitting calmly and having a good cup of tea without doing anything, the mind runs toward office matters, next week’s sales targets, and how to manage staff.
When I was a child, we had a neighbor called Asma Bevi. Whenever I saw her, she was alone. She woke up early in the morning, even before the village awoke. They had a lot of livestock, and she took care of them diligently. She used to make delicious appam, distribute them in the village, and earn money. She owned land across the backwaters, with paddy fields and coconut farms. After completing her morning work, she would cross the river in a small boat and work there, taking care of the crops. Later, she would prepare various confectioneries and sell them. After finishing all this work, she would return and sometimes ask neighbors for rice gruel and simple food.
Interestingly, no one lived with her. She had no children, and her husband had passed away. As a child, I assumed she must have had many liabilities and financial problems, and that was why she had no money. I had never seen her in good clothes. She always wore old, worn garments.
Later, I moved to Bombay, and afterward I came to know that she had passed away. What was astonishing was that she had a large amount of cash, gold, and considerable property. She had lived a harsh life, compromising on comfort and joy in order to accumulate wealth. She never wore good clothes and never allowed herself good food.
Those relatives who had stayed away from her eventually came and took the wealth, gold, and properties she had carefully saved for the future.
I still do not know what kind of future she was waiting for.
I know many people who run businesses. Even after earning substantial money, they continue to think only of the future — new properties, monthly expenditures, business expansion over the next five years. They are constantly under stress. Life becomes a continuous project. Some of them may pass away sooner than they expect. Even with so much wealth, what kind of life have they truly lived, other than maintaining appearances in society?
Their holiday trips also become business trips. Instead of relaxing, walking without purpose, sitting quietly in a café, or going for a peaceful drive, such simple acts become difficult for them.
Perhaps the real tragedy is not the absence of wealth but the absence of presence — the inability to sit still without calculating profit, the inability to enjoy a sunset without measuring productivity. We speak endlessly about securing the future, yet the future never arrives as we imagine it. It always comes as another present moment that we once ignored.
In trying to build tomorrow, many quietly abandon today.
It’s true Sir. Correctly said
Wonderful things to learn. Perfect described human tendency. I get good perspective of life. Never think about it. Need to live in present instead of postponed. Thanks Saji Sir.