Flossy Is Worthy of Praise The day we are born, there is no fixed plan laid out for our lives. Neither do parents possess a definite blueprint for what their child will become. A newborn is like an empty book, waiting to be written. A lady once remarked sarcastically to the inventor of the electric motor, “What use is a newborn baby?” Yet life unfolds in all its splendour as we move forward. It is our determination, perseverance, and effort that shape who we become.
There is nothing immodest in celebrating one’s own achievements. Why should anyone feel hesitant to feel elated, honoured, or recognised for rightful accomplishments? The craving to achieve and the desire to excel are hallmarks of successful souls. Such recognition not only propels them to greater heights in their chosen fields but also serves as a beacon of inspiration for others to carve out a niche for themselves. Too often, lavish praise is showered formally only after death. Writing on a tombstone means nothing to the departed—it will never be read by them. Yet we faithfully continue this tradition through obituaries, garlands, flowers, framed photographs, memorial awards, and charitable acts in their name. I have often been questioned for instituting awards under a Trust in honour of the living, as if it were a scandalous sacrilege. This criticism has not deterred me from breaking conventions or from thinking differently and acting obliquely against rigid traditions. At times, the depth of emotional outpouring after a demise is difficult to comprehend, except as an attempt to overcome guilt arising from delayed appreciation. Coffins are drowned in mountains of wreaths and bouquets, when a single flower offered on a birthday could have elevated spirits and brought a genuine smile. What a philosophy it is to offer Eucharistic Masses only after death—as though the living do not require grace for good health and happiness. Relatives and friends travel across continents to pay their so-called respects, yet a casual, courteous visit when the person was alive would have been eagerly awaited and warmly cherished. Instead, we visit the bereaved family to express solidarity and condolences. Often, crowds of unexpected mourners appear merely to be seen, without true remorse. Such face-saving sentiment neither uplifts emotions nor reflects genuine gratitude. We have been conditioned to believe that all salutations must be reserved for death. One of my colleagues once expressed deep anguish, wondering who would write about him after his passing, as he was a common man known only within a small circle. His wife, children, and friends, he felt, were too busy to spare the luxury of such meaningful courtesies. Professional writers, he observed, bend over backwards to portray only the rich, powerful, and famous. True to my promise, and in all humility, I published a booklet of poems celebrating and remembering his life and contributions. He assured me he would do the same for me—though fate decided otherwise. It is not a futile thought that the living must be honoured to maximise their efforts in contributing vigorously to the betterment of humanity. Nothing immortalises a person through self-glorification; it is sacrifice for others that endures. As Bob Marley aptly said, “The dead are important for their legacies, but the living are more important.” And indeed, living for others is the true path to longevity. A long life is a blessing when it is spent spreading good through sacrifices of time and effort for society. No matter how precious we are to family and friends, with the passage of time we fade from their consciousness. This forgetting is natural and inevitable—and should be accepted without regret. Do we remember our grandparents or great-grandparents in detail? Even our parents may be distant memories to future generations. Eventually, certificates alone remain as references to genealogy. Yet, a modest record of our existence should remain—without prompting or excessive display—for the benefit of future generations who may seek to understand the family tree from which they originate. Nelson Lopes Chinchinim Nelson Lopes Chinchinim https://lopesnelsonnat.wordpress.com
