The dawn broke, but the Sun did not rise that morning. It was a morning of ‘mourning’. (Page 24)

There are words like ‘orphan’, ‘widow’ and ‘widower’ in all languages. But there is no word in any language to describe a parent who loses a child. How does one describe the pain of ‘ultimate bereavement’! (Page 50)

Any one can be a leader is often a passing myth, not always a lasting truth.

Cold, still and mercilessDeath comes visiting With absolute finality(Page 24)

When one has an urge to say something but wouldn't quite know 'what' & 'how' .. it is better to let it remain unsaid.

The morning’s splendour is conceived in the dark womb of night. A truth … we all know and believe. Yet a truth, that is most difficult to live and endure when one is in that dark womb. Alive and breathing … but inert, vulnerable, and ‘in waiting’. Witnessing but not conscious, wakeful but not awake. (Page 2)

We are generally not programmed to imagine death, to handle death, to absorb grief, at least not in the immediacy of things, definitely not when the ‘thing’ has happened to another person.

Nature does not abandon us. Rather, it helps us in accepting our loss, grief and pain. It stays with us, even cries with us. It gifts us openings, may be more than once, to heal, transcend and re-emerge. (Page xii)

The crumbling under the ‘cold corpse’The deadness of ‘mortal separation’The moaning wails of ‘mourning’The push to ‘perform rituals’The spectacle of ‘sorrow’The goriness of ‘grief’AndThe ‘mercilessness’ of the ‘merciful’Who knows … ‘what’ and ‘why’ Who would ever want to know(Page 34)

Twilight …Not just a metaphorThe metaphor of the ‘spirit’The confluence of life and deathThe celestial dance of existential and essential(Page 75)