The Paradox of Plenty: Why a Better-Educated Generation Feels Less Secure

Why are the present generation is found financially unsecured, behaviouly irresponsible, emotionally shattered and professionally shaky despite having a better qualification and elevated ambition?

The Paradox of Plenty: Why a Better-Educated Generation Feels Less Secure

There was a time when a university degree was considered a passport to stability, a respectable profession, and a reasonably predictable future. Parents sacrificed comfort to educate their children because education was viewed as the bridge between struggle and success.

Yet, as we look around today, a curious paradox emerges.

The present generation is arguably the most educated, technologically connected, and globally aware generation in human history. They possess qualifications that their grandparents could scarcely imagine. They speak multiple languages, navigate digital platforms with ease, and dream of careers that stretch across continents.

And yet, many appear financially unsecured, behaviourally impulsive, emotionally exhausted, and professionally uncertain.

How did a generation blessed with so much become burdened with so much?

The answer lies not in a lack of intelligence but in the changing architecture of modern life.

The Mirage of Endless Possibilities

Previous generations often walked on clearly marked roads. Career choices were limited but well defined. One became a teacher, doctor, engineer, civil servant, farmer, or entrepreneur and remained committed to that path for decades.

Today’s youth stand before thousands of doors.

While freedom is a gift, excessive choice can become a burden. Every decision carries the fear of missing a better opportunity elsewhere. The result is a perpetual state of comparison and uncertainty.
Many young people are not failing because they lack ability; they are exhausted from trying to optimise every aspect of life.

Wealth Without Financial Wisdom

The modern world celebrates consumption with extraordinary enthusiasm.
Advertisements whisper continuously that happiness is only one purchase away.

Social media magnifies lifestyles that appear luxurious, effortless, and glamorous.

The consequence is predictable.

Many young professionals earn more than their parents did at the same age, yet save less. Credit cards, instant loans, and buy-now-pay-later schemes create the illusion of prosperity while quietly eroding financial security.

Money, unfortunately, obeys timeless laws.

Income may be modern, but financial discipline remains ancient.

Without patience and restraint, even a river of earnings can disappear into the desert of desire.

The Fragility of Human Behaviour

Technology has made communication instantaneous but has not necessarily made it meaningful.

A generation capable of connecting with thousands often struggles to connect deeply with a handful.

Patience has become a rare commodity.

Waiting once taught endurance; now everything arrives with a click. The culture of immediacy influences behaviour, creating expectations that life should move as quickly as a mobile application.

But life remains stubbornly human.

Relationships still require time.

Trust still requires consistency.

Character still requires effort.

When expectations move at digital speed and reality moves at human speed, frustration becomes inevitable.

The Silent Epidemic of Emotional Exhaustion

Many young people carry invisible burdens.

They are expected to excel academically, succeed professionally, remain physically attractive, maintain active social lives, and display constant happiness online.

The pressure is relentless.

Previous generations worried about survival. Today’s generation often worries about significance.

The fear is no longer merely, “Will I have enough?”
It has become, “Will I be enough?”

Such questions can quietly erode confidence.

Behind many smiling photographs lies a private battle with anxiety, loneliness, self-doubt, or emotional fatigue.

The loudest cries are often made in silence.

Professional Instability in a Changing World

The workplace itself has transformed dramatically.
Entire industries appear and disappear within a decade. Skills become obsolete faster than ever before. Artificial intelligence, automation, and global competition continuously redraw professional landscapes.
A qualification obtained today may require updating tomorrow.

The old promise—study hard, secure a job, and enjoy stability—has become less certain.

The modern professional must not merely learn; they must keep learning.

Success is no longer a destination. It has become a continuous journey of adaptation.

A Generation Caught Between Dreams and Reality

Perhaps the greatest challenge is the widening gap between aspiration and reality.

Young people are encouraged to dream without limits.
Dreams are beautiful, but reality has boundaries.

When expectations rise faster than opportunities, disappointment follows.

Many discover that achievement demands persistence, sacrifice, and patience—qualities rarely celebrated in a culture obsessed with instant results.

The mountain has not become higher.

The travellers have simply been told that reaching the summit should be easy.

The Way Forward

Despite these challenges, there is immense hope.

This generation possesses creativity, resilience, technological fluency, and a global perspective unmatched in history.

The solution is not less ambition but wiser ambition.

Not less technology but healthier use of it.

Not less wealth but better stewardship of it.

Not less freedom but greater responsibility.

The future belongs not to those who run the fastest, but to those who know where they are running and why.

A secure life is not built merely upon qualifications.
It is built upon character, discipline, emotional balance, meaningful relationships, and the wisdom to distinguish wants from needs.

Degrees may open doors.
Values determine what happens after the door opens.

The world has gifted wings of steel, And taught the young to soar; Yet many hearts still seek the art Of what they’re flying for.

The brightest screens may light the night, Yet leave the soul unseen; For wisdom grows where silence flows, Beyond the glowing screen.

Build not a life on shifting sand, Nor chase each passing gleam; For steady roots and thoughtful deeds Give substance to a dream.

And when the final ledger closes, And all ambitions cease, The richest souls shall not be those Who gathered most—but found their peace.

Before the Curtain Falls: Truths Worth Knowing and Wishes Worth Leaving Behind

Before the Curtain Falls: Truths Worth Knowing and Wishes Worth Leaving Behind.

Before the Curtain Falls: Truths Worth Knowing and Wishes Worth Leaving Behind

There comes a season in every life when the noise softens, the applause fades, and the heart begins to ask quieter questions. Not how much did I earn? Not how famous was I? Not even how many years did I live? But rather, what did it all mean?

Life, despite its countless disguises, is a patient teacher. It whispers its truths through joy and sorrow, through success and disappointment, through crowded celebrations and solitary evenings. Some lessons arrive early; others wait until the silver threads of time weave themselves through our hair.

The Unavoidable Truths of Life

The first truth is that nothing remains unchanged.
The child becomes an adult, the mighty become frail, spring surrenders to autumn, and every sunrise quietly prepares for sunset. Change is not life’s interruption; it is life’s very rhythm.

The second truth is that time is the most democratic force in existence.

It visits every palace and every hut with equal determination. No wealth can purchase an extra yesterday, and no power can postpone tomorrow indefinitely. Time keeps moving, carrying memories like fallen leaves upon a river.

The third truth is that people remember feelings more than achievements.

Many monuments crumble. Titles gather dust. Yet a kind word, a helping hand, a moment of compassion—these remain alive in human hearts long after names fade from stone.

Another truth is that happiness is rarely found where we search for it.
People chase distant horizons, imagining fulfilment waits behind the next promotion, the next purchase, the next destination. Yet happiness often sits quietly beside a cup of tea, a familiar voice, a gentle breeze, or an evening sky painted with colours no artist can fully capture.
And perhaps the deepest truth of all is this:
Life was never meant to be conquered; it was meant to be experienced.

We are travellers, not owners. Guests, not landlords. We borrow moments, people, places, and dreams for a little while before returning them to the universe.

Wishes Worth Fulfilling Before Departure

If life grants us the privilege of reflection before the final curtain falls, what wishes should we hope to see completed?

To Love Without Reservation

Not merely romantic love, but the broader art of caring deeply. To have loved family, friends, neighbours, strangers, animals, nature, and humanity itself is among life’s greatest accomplishments.

Love is the only treasure that grows richer when given away.

To Leave More Kindness Than We Found

A meaningful life is measured not by footprints upon the earth but by warmth left in human hearts.
One should wish to have reduced someone’s burden, eased someone’s loneliness, encouraged someone’s dream, or restored someone’s faith in goodness.

To Make Peace with Imperfection

Many spend their lives trying to become flawless.

Yet wisdom arrives when we understand that broken edges allow light to enter. One of life’s noblest wishes is to accept oneself completely—strengths, flaws, victories, and mistakes alike.

To Remain Curious Until the End

A life that stops learning begins ageing long before the body does.

One should long to keep wondering, questioning, reading, exploring, and marvelling. Curiosity keeps the soul young even when the calendar insists otherwise.

To Leave Behind Something Beautiful

It need not be a grand invention or a famous book.
A garden planted. A song remembered. A lesson shared. A friendship nurtured. A tree grown. A smile gifted.

Beauty survives in countless humble forms.

To Be Remembered for Character, Not Possessions

Possessions eventually belong to someone else.
Character remains our true signature upon the world. Integrity, honesty, courage, humour, and grace become the inheritance others carry forward.

To Feel Gratitude Rather Than Regret

Perhaps the finest wish is to reach the final chapter and say:
“What a remarkable journey it was.”

Not because everything went according to plan, but because every twist, detour, heartbreak, and triumph contributed to a life fully lived.

When all accounts are settled and all roads finally converge upon the horizon, few people wish they had spent more hours worrying, competing, or accumulating.

Most simply wish they had loved more generously, laughed more freely, forgiven more quickly, and noticed the beauty hidden in ordinary days.

Life, after all, is not a race towards an ending. It is a collection of moments entrusted to us for a brief and precious while.

The greatest success is not reaching the destination with overflowing hands, but arriving with a heart rich in memories, gratitude, and peace.

When twilight gathers on life’s shore,
And silent stars begin to gleam,
May we possess not gold in store,
But cherished fragments of a dream.

May every road we wandered through,
Still bloom with kindness we once sowed;
May grateful hearts remember too,
The gentle light along the road.

And when the final curtain falls,
With evening resting on the sea,
May whispered winds through distant halls
Declare we lived both full and free.

For life is but a borrowed song,
A fleeting note upon the air;
Its beauty lies not in its length,
But in the love we leave it there.

The Weight Thrower at the Family Table

The Weight Thrower at the Family Table

The Weight Thrower at the Family Table

There are people who carry mountains on their shoulders, and there are people who become mountains themselves—cold, immovable, and difficult to cross.

Among the saddest sights in human life is not poverty, illness, or failure. It is the sight of a person who cannot rejoice in the happiness of his own family, who stands apart from their laughter as though it were a foreign language, and who measures every relationship not with affection but with burdens.
Such a person is often a thrower of weights.

Not the weights made of iron and steel, but invisible weights—words heavy with criticism, silences loaded with disapproval, expectations impossible to fulfil, and complaints that fall like stones into the calm waters of family life.

A family is meant to be a garden. Different flowers bloom at different seasons. One member may be successful, another may struggle; one may sing while another merely hums. Yet together they create harmony. The weight thrower, however, walks through this garden searching only for weeds. Even when roses bloom, he speaks of thorns.

The tragedy is that he seldom realises what he is losing.
While others gather memories around dining tables, he gathers grievances. While children collect moments of joy, he counts perceived insults. While life offers opportunities to celebrate together, he stands at the edge of the circle, convinced that everyone else is dancing incorrectly.

Such people often mistake authority for affection. They believe respect can be demanded rather than earned. They imagine that constant fault-finding is wisdom and that emotional distance is strength. Yet hearts are not conquered by commands. They are won by kindness, understanding, and presence.

A house may survive storms from outside, but it slowly weakens when the winds blow from within. Every harsh remark leaves a crack. Every unnecessary criticism loosens a brick. Every refusal to share another’s happiness dims a lamp in the corridor of belonging.

And still, families are remarkable things.
Like old trees, they continue to offer shade even when struck by careless axes. They forgive more than they should. They wait longer than they must. They keep a chair vacant at the table, hoping that one day the wanderer of bitterness will return carrying not weights, but warmth.

For what is family if not a collection of imperfect souls attempting to love one another through imperfect days?

The person who refuses to celebrate the achievements, friendships, and associations of family members gradually becomes a lonely island. He may stand firm against every tide, but he also misses every ship that passes.

Life is astonishingly brief. The years race by like autumn leaves chased by the wind. One day the voices that irritated us become the voices we long to hear again. The gatherings we avoided become memories we would gladly purchase at any price.

In the end, no one remembers who won every argument. No one builds monuments to criticism. What endures are shared smiles, unexpected embraces, cups of tea stretched into long conversations, and the gentle assurance that someone was genuinely happy simply because we existed.

The wise learn this before it is too late.

They put down the weights.
They pull their chairs closer.
They join the laughter.
And in doing so, they discover that the strongest people are not those who burden others, but those who lighten the load of everyone around them.

Black Beauty: The First Book That Galloped into My Heart

What’s the first book you ever finished and still remember to this day?

Black Beauty: The First Book That Galloped into My Heart

Books come and go in our lives. Some are read and forgotten, while others leave hoofprints upon the sands of memory that time can never erase. When I look back upon my journey as a reader, one book stands tall among the many volumes that have crossed my path—Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. It was the first book I finished from cover to cover, and decades later, its gentle voice still echoes in my heart.

As a young boy growing up amidst the hills and valleys, books were precious companions. They opened windows to worlds beyond the horizon and introduced me to characters who became lifelong friends. Among them, Black Beauty was not merely a horse; he was a storyteller, a philosopher, and a silent teacher.

What fascinated me most was that the story was narrated by the horse himself.

Through Black Beauty’s eyes, I witnessed kindness and cruelty, comfort and hardship, joy and sorrow. The novel taught me that every living creature has feelings, fears, hopes, and a longing for dignity. It was perhaps my first lesson in empathy.

Anna Sewell wrote the book not merely as a story but as a plea for compassion towards animals. The message was simple yet profound: strength should never be misused, and kindness costs nothing. Even as a child, I could feel the pain of the horses who were overworked and mistreated.

Their suffering stirred something within me and awakened a sense of responsibility towards all living beings.

Looking back today, I realise that Black Beauty was much more than a children’s novel. It was a mirror reflecting human nature. Some characters treated animals with gentleness and respect, while others viewed them merely as tools. The same contrast exists in our dealings with fellow human beings. The book quietly taught me that character is revealed not by how we treat the powerful but by how we treat those who depend upon us.

Life has taken me through many seasons—student, teacher, principal, consultant, author, husband, father, and grandfather. I have read countless books on science, philosophy, education, religion, and literature. Yet Black Beauty remains special because it was my first literary journey completed successfully. It gave me the confidence that I could finish a book and understand its message. In many ways, it opened the gate to a lifelong love affair with reading.

There is an old saying: “The first cut is the deepest.” In the world of books, the first memorable read often leaves the deepest impression. For me, that honour belongs to Black Beauty. Its pages nurtured values that no classroom lesson could fully teach—compassion, gratitude, patience, and respect for life.

Today, whenever I see a horse, I remember Black Beauty. Whenever I encounter kindness, I recall the gentle hands that cared for him. And whenever I witness injustice, I remember his silent suffering. Such is the enduring power of a great book.

The years may have flown by like leaves in the wind, but the memory of that noble black horse continues to trot faithfully through the corridors of my mind. Some books are read once and shelved forever. Others become trusted companions for life. Black Beauty belongs to the latter category.

And perhaps that is the greatest compliment a reader can offer a book—that after all these years, one still remembers not only the story, but also the lessons it carried and the emotions it awakened.

The first book I finished was not merely a book; it was the beginning of a lifelong journey into the wonderful world of reading.

The Advice That Stayed Longer Than the Applause

What’s the most profound piece of advice you’ve been given? Did you take it?

The Advice That Stayed Longer Than the Applause

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In life, we receive countless pieces of advice. Some are wrapped in motivational speeches, some arrive through books and scriptures, and some come casually over a cup of tea from people who may never realise the impact of their words. Most advice fades with time, like chalk washed away by rain. But occasionally, one sentence remains lodged in the heart for decades.

The most profound advice I was ever given came from an elderly teacher during the early years of my professional life. I was frustrated, overworked, emotionally exhausted, and quietly disappointed with the world around me. I had expected sincerity to be rewarded quickly, hard work to be noticed immediately, and relationships to remain loyal forever. Reality, however, had different plans.

That elderly gentleman looked at me and said quietly:

“Do not expect life to be fair every day. Just make sure you remain fair as a human being.”

At that moment, I nodded politely without fully understanding the depth of what he meant. Years later, I realised that those words contained an entire philosophy of survival.

The real world is not designed like moral science textbooks. Merit does not always win. Honest people are sometimes ignored while louder voices occupy the stage. Offices are filled with politics. Families occasionally fracture over property, ego, or misunderstanding.

Friendships weaken without explanation. Even social media has created a strange age where appearances often matter more than authenticity.

One may spend years building trust and lose it within minutes because of rumours or assumptions.

I have seen capable teachers struggle financially after retirement while less dedicated individuals prosper through connections. I have seen parents sacrifice everything for children and later sit silently in empty rooms waiting for a phone call. I have seen educated people behave without wisdom and simple villagers display extraordinary humanity.

Life slowly removes our illusions one by one.

There was a time when such realities made me deeply restless. I questioned why integrity seemed like a burden in a world increasingly driven by convenience and self-interest. During difficult phases, especially after retirement, I too experienced moments of invisibility. A person who once addressed assemblies, guided institutions, trained teachers, and inspired students suddenly becomes “retired” — as though experience itself has expired.

The world respects utility more than memory.
That truth hurts.

In earlier days, neighbours sat together in courtyards discussing life till late evening. Today, even family members sitting in the same room are often lost inside mobile screens. Technology has connected continents but quietly widened emotional distances. Many elderly people today are not suffering from disease as much as from irrelevance and loneliness.

In such a world, bitterness becomes tempting.

One begins comparing. One starts counting betrayals. One replays old injustices repeatedly in the mind.
But then I remember that advice:

“Just make sure you remain fair as a human being.”

That sentence prevented me from becoming cynical.
I did not follow it perfectly every day. There were occasions when anger overtook patience and disappointment overshadowed optimism. I am human after all. But I kept returning to that principle whenever life became emotionally heavy.
I continued helping students even after retirement. I continued writing even when readership fluctuated. I continued encouraging others despite my own uncertainties. I continued believing that dignity matters more than popularity.

Perhaps that is what maturity truly means — not becoming emotionless, but learning not to allow disappointment to poison character.

History repeatedly reminds us of this truth. Great individuals were rarely given comfortable lives.  faced humiliation and imprisonment.  faced repeated failures before leadership.  spent decades in prison. Yet they did not allow suffering to reduce their humanity.

Ordinary people around us do the same quietly every day.

The bus conductor working double shifts to educate his daughter. The mother hiding her illness so the family does not worry. The retired teacher giving free tuition to poor children. The farmer smiling despite uncertain rains.

These are the unnoticed philosophers of the real world.

Today, when younger people ask me about success, I no longer speak only about ambition, salary, or achievement. I tell them that life eventually tests not merely intelligence but emotional endurance. Degrees may secure employment, but values sustain relationships. Efficiency may earn promotions, but kindness earns remembrance.

The world does not desperately need cleverer people. It needs more dependable human beings.

Looking back now, I realise that the advice I received did not make my life easier. It made my perspective steadier. It taught me that while we cannot control how the world behaves every day, we can still choose how we respond to it.

And in an age where outrage spreads faster than compassion, remaining fair, humane, and balanced may itself be a silent revolution.
Perhaps that is why some advice outlives applause, achievements, and even time itself.

Because truth spoken sincerely never grows old.

Twenty-Four Hours of Infinity: What I Would Do with an Unlimited Budget

If you had an unlimited budget for 24 hours, what would you do?

Twenty-Four Hours of Infinity: What I Would Do with an Unlimited Budget

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Money, they say, cannot buy happiness. Yet, if wisely used, it can certainly buy relief, opportunity, dignity, and hope. If Providence were to place an unlimited budget at my disposal for merely twenty-four hours, I would not spend the day counting currencies or decorating my life with luxuries. Instead, I would treat those precious hours as a divine assignment — a brief stewardship entrusted to me for the welfare of humanity.

After all, wealth is not measured by what we possess, but by what we can give away without regret.

The first few hours of my day would begin with feeding the hungry. Across the world, millions sleep on empty stomachs while banquet halls glitter under chandeliers. I would establish massive community kitchens in villages, towns, and urban slums where no child, widow, labourer, or abandoned soul would remain hungry. Food is not merely a necessity; it is the first language of compassion. As the ancient Indian philosophy says, “अन्नदानम् महादानम्” — offering food is the greatest charity.

Thereafter, my attention would turn towards education, the lamp that removes the darkness of generations. Having spent nearly four decades in the field of education, I have witnessed how talent often suffocates under poverty. I would establish schools and libraries in remote corners where children still study under trees or by the dim light of kerosene lamps.

Every child would receive books, digital access, uniforms, trained teachers, and opportunities to dream without fear. Education should never become a privilege reserved for the fortunate few.

Simultaneously, I would create healthcare facilities for the poor. In many parts of the world, illness does not merely attack the body; it destroys the finances and morale of entire families. Hospitals equipped with modern facilities, mobile clinics for villages, free medicines for senior citizens, and emotional support centres for the lonely would become my immediate priority. A civilisation can never be called truly developed if its weakest citizens suffer unattended.

If time permitted, I would also invest heavily in environmental restoration. Rivers are gasping for breath, forests are shrinking, and cities are turning into concrete jungles. I would initiate massive afforestation drives, rejuvenate dying water bodies, and encourage sustainable living. Nature has always whispered wisdom to humanity, but mankind often listens only after disasters knock at the door.

Yet, amidst all these grand plans, I would reserve a deeply personal portion of those twenty-four hours. I would gather my family — my wife, children, and beloved grandchildren — around one table filled not merely with delicacies but with laughter, music, stories, and gratitude. For in the final analysis, relationships remain the true currency of life. A man may own the world and still feel impoverished if love is absent from his home.

I would also spend some moments in prayer and silence. Unlimited wealth without wisdom can become a dangerous storm. History is filled with emperors who conquered nations but failed to conquer greed within themselves. Therefore, I would seek divine guidance to ensure that every action carried purpose rather than pride.

And yes, perhaps for a brief while, I would travel — not in search of luxury, but in search of wonder. I would revisit mountains, rivers, monasteries, churches, temples, and villages that shaped my philosophy of life. I would sit quietly beside nature and thank God for the extraordinary privilege of being alive.

As the clock approached the end of those twenty-four hours, I would not measure success by how much money had been spent, but by how many tears had been wiped away. Wealth, after all, is temporary; impact is eternal.

The real tragedy of humanity is not the absence of resources but the absence of compassionate distribution. If every wealthy heart carried even a fraction of empathy, the world would become far more humane.

Unlimited money for one day may sound like a fantasy, yet unlimited kindness can become a daily reality. In the end, life is not about how much we accumulate, but about how deeply we touch the lives of others.

For when the curtains finally fall upon the stage of life, neither bank balances nor possessions accompany us — only our deeds echo in eternity.

“The Final Curtain: With Applause or In Silence”

“The Final Curtain: With Applause or In Silence”

“The Final Curtain: With Applause or In Silence”

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Life, they say, is not merely a journey from cradle to grave; it is a grand stage upon which every soul performs its allotted role. Some enter with trumpets and celebration, while others walk quietly through the corridors of existence like a soft evening breeze. Yet, in the finale of life, one question silently echoes within every human heart — will the world remember me with affection, or will life move on without a whisper?

As age advances and the shadows grow longer upon the road behind us, the mind often wanders into philosophical alleys. One begins to measure achievements, relationships, sacrifices, victories, and even failures. The youthful race for fame, wealth, and recognition slowly loses its glitter, much like autumn leaves surrendering to the inevitable call of winter.

What remains then is not the loudness of our success, but the depth of our humanity.

The finale of life is rarely about possessions. No one carries titles, properties, or bank balances into eternity. History, philosophy, and spirituality repeatedly remind us that human beings are remembered not for what they accumulated, but for what they gave away — kindness, wisdom, courage, compassion, and love. Even in the Indian epics, kings and warriors eventually fade into dust, yet their virtues continue to illuminate generations like lamps in a darkened temple.

One may depart surrounded by family, friends, prayers, and tears. Another may leave quietly, almost unnoticed by society. Yet the true measure of a life does not lie in the crowd gathered at the funeral, but in the silent blessings carried in the hearts of people touched along the way. A teacher lives on in the success of students; a parent survives in the values of children; a friend remains alive in cherished memories. In this sense, death never truly defeats a meaningful life.

The modern world, however, often pushes individuals into loneliness and emotional exile. Relationships have become fragile, conversations mechanical, and affection increasingly digital. Many elderly people today fear not death itself, but irrelevance — the painful feeling of becoming an “old chapter” in a rapidly changing world. Yet wisdom teaches us that sunsets are as beautiful as sunrises. The evening of life possesses a grace that youth seldom understands.

Philosophers from the East and West have repeatedly spoken of detachment. The Bhagavad Gita reminds humanity to perform duties without obsession over results, while thinkers like Socrates and Marcus Aurelius viewed death not as an end, but as a natural transition. Even the Bible gently whispers, “For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” Yet between those two moments of dust lies the opportunity to become a blessing to others.

Perhaps, then, the finale of life should not frighten us. Whether accompanied by applause or silence, every life leaves behind invisible footprints. The important thing is not whether the world stands still after our departure, but whether we lived truthfully while we were here.

For in the end, life is much like a candle in the wind — fragile, flickering, and temporary. But even a small candle has the power to light another before it fades away.
And perhaps that alone is enough.