How Would I Like to Go?

Death is a morbid subject. Few amongst us welcome it, and for most, it remains an uneasy thought, especially in youth. In our younger days, the prospect of dying is effortlessly dismissed, buried beneath the boundless vibrancy of life. Yet, as Yudhishthira’s profound response to Yaksha in the Mahabharata reminds us, death is the ultimate paradox:

दिने दिने हि भूतानि प्रविशन्ति यमालयम्।
शेषास्थावरमिच्छन्ति किमाश्चर्यमतः परम्॥

(“Day after day, beings enter the abode of Yama (death), and yet those who remain,  retain the desire to live forever. What could be more astonishing?”)

So, death remains an undeniable certainty — a singular truth that transcends time, culture, and creed. Few states of being inspire as much contemplation, fear, and wonder. As one grows older, the thought of final departure often frequents the mind, becoming a quiet yet persistent companion. An aging body, visited by ailments and frailties, makes us feel its inevitability ever so closely. While some of us may mask these thoughts with humour or dismissal, none can claim complete indifference.

If, with advancing years, the shadow of death looms larger on the mental horizon, it is natural to ponder: How would I like to go? Could this question, rather than being morbid, offer a doorway to peace and acceptance?

The Dalai Lama once said, “Analysis of death is not for the sake of becoming fearful but to appreciate this precious lifetime.” As the first among the Buddhists, he sees death not as an end but as a transition — a gateway to rebirth shaped by the karma of one’s actions. He encourages open conversations about death, urging us to cultivate gratitude for life and prepare the mind for a serene departure. Thinking about death, therefore, can serve as a deeply practical exercise — one that helps us shape our final moments with dignity and awareness.

The Preferred Departures

If I had a choice, the best way to depart would be in sleep—peacefully, painlessly, and unaware. Such a death is a blessing, a quiet cessation that spares both the departed and their loved ones from unnecessary anguish. Those who pass this way are like candles extinguished by the gentlest breeze—leaving no scars, no tears, only a lingering warmth of memory.

The second-best way, for me, would be to die amidst joy, surrounded by the laughter of my grandchildren. Imagine the scene: chasing them in the garden, their innocent giggles mingling with your own, until your heart suddenly falters, and you collapse. Your transition is abrupt yet imbued with love and life, leaving behind a memory filled with joy rather than sorrow.

But if I were to go in the more traditional sense, i.e. after enduring a deathbed, I would still wish to do so surrounded by my wife, children, and grandchildren. I imagine myself in those final moments, holding my wife’s hand, her comforting touch anchoring me as I prepare to let go. I would like the name of Lord Shiva on my lips, a sacred invocation to guide my soul toward its next journey. Yet even in such a setting, the wait for departure must be mercifully brief — no more than a day or two. A prolonged goodbye, even amidst loved ones, risks diluting the grace of such a farewell with pain, helplessness and perhaps for some, even impatience.

Contrast these serene departures with the bleak image of lying in a hospital bed, tethered to life by tubes, monitors, and machines. A death prolonged by medical intervention is not just a trial for the body but an ordeal for the soul — and a torment for those who love you. In such circumstances, death becomes a release, a bittersweet end to the suffering of all involved.

The most agonizing departure, however, is a long, drawn-out prelude to death—a period marked by unending pain, hopelessness, and dependence. Such a journey tests the patience, resources, and emotions of caregivers while stripping the dying of their dignity. It underscores the value of a quick and painless transition, which spares everyone involved from prolonged agony.

A Prayer for a Graceful Exit

Frida Kahlo, the celebrated artist known for her defiant spirit, once declared, “I joyfully await the exit—and I hope never to return.” Her words, though bereft of spirituality, resonate deeply with the sentiments of this Sanatan prayer:

अनायासेन मरणम्, बिना दैन्येन जीवनम्।
देहान्ते तव सानिध्यम्, देहि मे परमेश्वरम्॥

“Grant me an effortless death, a life without indignity, and Your divine presence at the end, O Lord.”

This prayer captures a universal yearning: to live with dignity, to die without suffering, and to find solace in the embrace of the eternal.

Until death catches up with us, this prayer serves as a guiding light—a hope and a comfort. It reminds us that while we cannot control the timing or manner of our departure, we can shape our attitudes toward it. 

In contemplating our end, we can embrace life with greater awareness, treasuring each moment as the gift it truly is.