You took the first portrait of me. I was just over a
little year old, probably sleeping when you clicked the photograph. My family did
not know, quite possibly only a handful of people in the world knew about it at
the time. It was a little secret that I discovered close to three decades
later. Better late than never.
I was not alone in the portrait. The person who introduced
me to books, the teacher who showed me the path to a good life, the friends who
went along in stupid adventures, the love, and the heartbreaks- all were in
that portrait. And so was a Dusky Seaside Sparrow, probably returning to its
nest in the glory of a Florida sunset. The gentle giant Sudan was drowsing in
captivity in a foreign land. The Saint Helena Olive was in full bloom with its
pink flowers. A school of Baiji Dolphins were frolicking in the Yangtze River. I
rode the bicycle for most of my daily activities. Disposable cutlery was
unheard of in my family. Life was unhurried while you approached the edge of
the solar system.
As you continue into the infinite darkness, Sudan has
since been freed. But alas, he has breathed his last. And with him has dimmed
the hopes of an entire species. The olives eventually met the same fate as an
exiled emperor. The dolphins of the Yangtze have not whistled in years. Three
decades and seven thousand miles later, I witnessed the first light on a
surreal place. A glimpse into what the Earth must have been in its prime. An
automobile is now a necessary part of my life. Plastic straws and styrofoam
containers are not too uncommon. I have changed. We have changed. The memory
that you carry of us- is but a memory. The blue dot from your younger days has become
paler over time.
Four decades and fourteen billion miles hence, you do
not need to take another portrait of me. But the sparrow can find its nest
again. We might not be able to reverse the clock. But we can keep it ticking. And your swan song can be our overture. We are significant because we are insignificant.
Epilogue
When the
steaming cauldron, that once held the primordial soup,
From where
the sugars went right,
And the
amino acids to the left.
Life found
a middle ground, evolving over eons,
Till the intelligent
species took over.
And the
cauldron started to spill.
Too many
cooks indeed spoil the broth.
Because we
need the sun at night,
And the
blinds by daylight.
Have you ever paused at the phrase 'fossil fuels'?
How we
built our lives, entire civilizations from Her graveyards?
Without
mourning, without reverence.
But Her
heart weeps
With the
melting glaciers.
When shall
we learn?
That when
there is nothing left to burn,
All will
burn.
And when
the dust settles,
She will be
ready with more love, and fuels.
But
who will be there to receive it?
(Or it might be that
the fact we are not trying to stop the madness is actually Nature’s
survival tactics? Maybe
the only way to reset the environment is by extinction of the
human race that depends
on us not caring about it?)
A tribute to Voyager I and Carl Sagan on Earth
Day, with the dream of a better world.
