“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
— Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
Kabir – The couplet
कबीर नौबति आपणी, दिन दस लेहु बजाइ।
ए पुर पटन ए गली, बहुरि न देखै आइ॥
Transliterated
Kabīr naubati āpaṇī, din das lehu bajāi |
E pur paṭan e galī, bahuri na dekhai āi ||
Translation
Kabir says: Sound your ceremonial drum for ten brief days;
this town, this marketplace, these lanes—you will not return to see them.
My understanding
Kabir begins with noise.The naubat was ceremonial music sounded at a palace or gateway, announcing rank, arrival and celebration. Kabir allows the drum to beat—but only for “ten days,” an idiom for life’s brief duration. Soon, he warns, the familiar town, marketplace and lanes must be left behind. Kabir is not condemning celebration. He is asking whether its noise has made me forget that time is passing.
Annie Dillard approaches time differently. She observes that a life is not composed somewhere beyond today; it is formed by the hours and days through which we actually live. Kabir adds the sharper edge of mortality: these ordinary streets are not permanently ours.
Their insights meet in the present moment. I easily treat the day before me as a waiting room. I finish messages, attend meetings, complete errands and move through conversations while expecting “real life” to begin after the next task, achievement or difficulty. But what if this is real life?
The naubat also resembles the noise I make around my own importance—titles, accomplishments, opinions and the hope of being noticed. Recognition is not wrong. Good work deserves appreciation. Yet applause can announce that I have arrived without answering whether I am truly present! Kabir’s reminder need not make life gloomy. Mortality can sharpen gratitude. A street becomes precious because I will not walk it forever. An ordinary meal, an unhurried conversation and a familiar face become worthy of attention because none has been promised permanently.
Perhaps I can ask:
– If today were repeated, what kind of life would it create?
– What noise am I using to avoid hearing what matters?
– Which duty, apology, prayer or expression of gratitude should not be postponed?
The answer may be small. Put away the screen during a conversation. Complete one responsibility carefully. Sit silently for a few minutes. Tell someone that their presence matters. Remember the Divine before the day disappears into activity.The ceremonial drum may announce my arrival. Only the way I spend the day reveals whether I was truly here.