Arun Veembur

One of my good friends, Arun Veembur, died last week. I am saddened by the loss to everyone who knew him; I am saddened that the work he was so passionate about was left incomplete. But the man deserves praise, like nobody else I know, for not resigning to the  comfort of mundane commonplace existence. Arun was a brilliant man and would have done better than me and most people I know, at everything we do today.  But he had the courage to follow his passion at the cost of everything that we hold so proudly as the trophy of our existence; the trophy that nestles us in an empty comfortable warmth. Arun died cold and alone, but he died trying to seek out more meaning out of life, than the muddled version the rest of us are content with. He died trying to live for his dreams, on an untrodden path. Most of us are unaware, but some of us know that the answer to the questons that bog us is not in what we are doing today. But we do nothing about it. We just live our lives, anyway. Arun, always, till his last breath, had the courage to find out if it was in the next thing that his heart said it might be in.

For children are innocent and love justice, while most of us are wicked and naturally prefer mercy. -G.K.Chesterton

(from Into the wild, Jon Krakauer)


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