A few months ago I sold a computer memory module to an octogenarian and promised him that the product carries a lifetime warranty. I assured him that should it fail, he can always come to our store and exchange it for another. To this the man in his eighties replied with a smile, “Whose life are you talking about here?” Is it his life, the product’s life, or the store’s life?

While at that time we enjoyed it as a joke, I couldn’t help think of it when AIG was on the brink of failure this week. When an insurance company offers life insurance the prospective client rarely think of the company’s life. We take it for granted and go about paying premiums religiously month after month. And remember AIG was targeting aged customers with no medical, guaranteed acceptance.

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What would you think if someone says to you,”If I had a million dollars, I will buy you a casket”? You will be shocked, wouldn’t you? For it runs counter to ‘norm’. We may hear like, I will buy you an exotic pet, or some art like a Picasso or a Garfunkel or I would hire a limousine to drop you at your bus stop. (OK, I admit I am inspired by Barenaked Ladies song by the same title.)


Well that’s exactly what my friend said to one of our other colleagues (he is not well liked by anyone in our group) during our lunch break. My friend is a regular at buying lottery tickets and I have never played lottery to this day and I was being initiated into buying one these days. Our discussion about lotteries eventually led us to finding out what would we buy each other if either of us won it big. That’s when our colleague chipped in and got bitten. Though personally I have some misgivings about this colleague, I felt my friend’s reply to be in bad taste. But seriously, why would it upset us if someone near to us discusses our imminent death.

I mean it is OK to hear one’s insurance agent (or they see an ad that asks, “If you died today, who will take care of your family?” showing some distraught kid near a grave) discuss his (her) death and the need to provide for their near and dear ones, once they are gone. Not only are they not upset, but they shake hands and buy as much insurance as they can afford. They even go to the extent of buying their own funeral arrangements making a down payment and following up with monthly payments thereafter. They feel relieved or should I say joy in their hearts?

It is probably because under those circumstances we conjure up images of our death in the distant future. Or we should give credit to the insurance companies and the ad agencies that have made it palatable to discuss death. But the moment someone shows a casket, and says it is our own to take it home for free, we are terrified. For example we don’t particularly like our children say, Dad (or mom) I bought you a coffin for this father’s (mothers) day



Why is it so? The answer my friend, as my philosopher and guide Eckhart Tolle puts it beautifully, We are intensely attached to our identity as to who we are. He says, “Suppose you see a fish being born in an aquarium and you name it John and adopt it as your pet. A little while later when you see it eaten by a bigger fish, will you grieve over it”? Of course not, we will dismiss it as natural part of life to be born and gone. But when it comes to our own identity, we will defend it to death! (No pun intended). He says it is our attachment to our identity that keeps our cosmetic, fashion industries alive and the moment we relinquish our identity, these industries will collapse. To that list, may I add the insurance industry too, if he had not already done?

By the way, later I asked my friend as to why he was so rude to our colleague. I got this for an answer, “Do you know Rayan, how much it costs to buy a good casket these days”? and he was serious! That only made me laugh and honestly I don’t have a clue. For in my afterlife, I have no intention to be constrained underground but fly upwards in smoke freely. And the rest of me may travel along the river to meet the ocean. You know, I intend to enjoy my life now and later with zest.