Almost everybody, modern or ancient, philosopher or beggar, all has, at one point or another of his/her life, pondered the meaning of life. This question is almost as classical as Hamlet’s “To be or not to be….”….
It suddenly dawned on me one sunny Saturday morning that life is nothing but an accident!
Look, there are several billion lives on this planet. Why me, instead of another person like those billions? Why here, instead of another continent? Why now, instead of the era of Renaissance or World War II? Why a male, instead of a female?
I even thought in such a funny way…
What if, on that particular night, neither of my parents was not in the mood? Or my mother just happened to have a headache?
I could list a score of possibilities that would have made my existence a non-existence!
So I slowly strolled(not jumped) to this sad conclusion: Life is but an accident!
Yes, life is but a process of mere existence. Human being is probably the only animal on earth that has glorified the meaning of life. But like the other species on this earth, we are experiencing the same process: birth, growing up, aging, and death.
From a historical and biological prospective, life is not as meaningful as we perceive. We just happen to be born, to be living now, and heading for a world of nothingness.
