Fear v/s Embrace

How disturbing would it be to find out that the person who offered you a seat in the metro, or the person you helped cross the road, or the person who sold you those pink earrings at round the corner, or the person with whom you had a very memorable conversation last evening while waiting at the coffee house, or all of them at once-- are dead. No more. Gone to a place which noone has ever seen, yet everyone keeps talking about.
How strange it sounds how profoundly death— irrespective of our relation with the person— affects us, leaves a permanent mark: a wound; a scar.
Some people get irritated when you talk to them about death. It's like the unspeakable truth everyone keeps fearing and avoiding and distracting one's mind from. They know it's inevitable, "but why talk about something that makes you sad?", say most people who are convinced that I am obsessed with the idea of death.
But why not talk about it like one talks about marriage, or further educational pursuits, or dispelling one's virginity, or jobs- which are more or less equally unpredictable. We make a million plans: only a quarter of them work out as we imagined. People dwell over their dream wedding, or their dream vacation, and when I ask them about their dream death—long awkward silence, followed by looks as if you have shoved a knife straight into their gut.

Because we always want to cling on! This desperate need to make things last forever, even human life. We know it's impossible but we like to believe it isn't. So we would close our ears when someone would say the opposite.
What we don't realize is that the only things that last till you do are memories. So why not embrace them, accept their transcendentalism? 
How disturbing it was to think about deaths of those people! And how fascinating it is to know that their last memory of the living world which they would carry to the other world(if any) would be of an episode with a stranger. And the stranger, in so many cases, is you!

Faulty Perceptions.

He had never been so frustrated before. As soon as he saw his mother, he roared, out of anger. The redness of the blood gushing out of his would looked pale before the redness of his cheeks. "They think just because they don't understand our language, we don't understand theirs? Ours is a much older and intelligent civilisation! But sheer arrongance has made these people blind!"

His father tried to calm him down, offered him some food.
His anger was directed at the foolishness of people. They would always see the world through a self manufactured lens, and like to believe it to be the only way of the world!
Such lunkheads!
"What do they know about our daily sttuggles? We are in constant threat of being killed. Our family doesn't know if we'll return home at dusk. We don't even have any cars or helicopters to our comfort. Wherever we need to go, there's a lot of muscular energy exhausted; enough to kill the purpose of reaching the designated place."
His fury just wouldn't cease to flow.
"And then they would say, 'wish I were a free bird, with a limitless sky to explore...'"
How he hated such baseless admirations and fantasies.

If only he could show those humans how much they have polluted the air and induced in this so-called limitless sky an abundance of death and disease, they would know how wrong they are in epitomising the life of a "free" bird.
He would show them that class hierarchies exist in every civilisation, and that flying in the sky isn't as relaxing as getting one's ass onto the backseat of one's superexpensive sedan and signalling the driver, 'home'.

What's freedom to us then, they would ask us, probably; he thought. "And I would beg them to stop polluting our area, and stop flying those kites whose threads are tiny enough for our eyes to miss but sharp enough to wound our body anytime. And I would beg them to stick to the part of the world assigned to them, and not strive to conquer the sky. For if they continue to life their lives(and destroy ours) at the same pace, there won't be any birds left to symbolize freedom; only carcasses to hint upon our existence to the future generation, raising debates on the credibility of those artefacts, just like they do to dinosaurs."