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I saw him by chance on the roadside—an extremely old saint, his body bent with age, his clothes worn by time but his presence calm and composed. He was speaking softly to someone nearby, saying that he wished to go to Gangasagar. His voice carried neither urgency nor complaint, only quiet acceptance. I was not part of the conversation, yet one sentence he uttered travelled straight into my soul:
“Hey Prabhu, jab tak chalana hai chalate rehna, lekin jab baithana ho to utha lena.”
(Oh Lord, let me keep walking as long as You wish, but when it is time, please take me away.) Like he was praying that I don’t want to be bed ridden as no one is there to take care of me.
Those words were simple, yet they held the weight of an ultimate truth. I realized that this thought lives somewhere inside every human being—especially those who are alone and have lost confidence, or feel abandoned by life. It is not a prayer born out of fear, but one born out of exhaustion and feeling of alone or loneliness.
In other way, when a person grows old, dependence quietly replaces independence. Strength fades, confidence weakens, and hope slowly erodes—especially when there is no family, no friend, no familiar hand to rely upon. Loneliness becomes heavier than age itself.
As a society, we often speak about humanity and compassion. Governments build shelters for animals—and rightly so—but how many safe shelters exist for abandoned elderly people? NGOs are doing commendable work, yet even today we see countless old men and women lying on roadsides, exposed to extreme winters and scorching summers, invisible to the world rushing past them.
That one line spoken by the saint reflects the silent prayer of many elderly souls: not asking for luxury, not even for comfort—only dignity in departure. It is a reminder that aging without support is not just a personal tragedy, but a collective failure.
That sentence is not merely a thought; it is an ultimate truth.
