The other day, I met an old friend who was really old. Despite his semi-blind eyes, he was able to recognise me. Both of us were happy at heart, and the very first question I asked him to keep the conversation moving was: "How is your health?" He answered: 'My health has never been very good.' A few seconds later, he smiled toothless and added: "The leaf has yellowed. It knows that it has to fall of the tree when the latter disowns it. Till then it has no other go but wait and watch."

I heaved a sigh as his words set me thinking. All that dwell on earth knows that death is inevitable. They are aware that death struts in innumerable ways and has countless hands. Different societies have different attitudes to death, as they have to life. But they invariably believe that death will come when it will come. And there is no escape from it. Be he Alexander the Great Or poor Lazarus, be she Cleopatra or Xanthippe, death will level them.

Death may follow us like our shadow. We have to expect it everywhere. There is no escape from it. Where it awaits us is uncertain. Only a fool of an ass can ever think of cheating death. I am reminded of a folktale that aptly suits the purpose. I have no idea from where it had travelled into my mind.

Once upon a time, a sculptor grown old by age wanted to live longer than his stipulated time by cheating Yama, the Lord of Death. So, he clandestinely approached an astrologer who meticulously predicted the future of people. The astrologer did it for a great sum.

The astrologer, too, after calculations with his fingers and the cowrie shells, predicted the exact date and time of the sculptor's death. It was not far off.
"What if I hide from Yama at the time of my death? What will he do when I play the game of Hide and Seek with him? He would have to go back on the day and come again on some other day. Will you help again?" asked the sculptor.

"What? Your words are stupid. By hook or by crook Yama will find you on the appointed day. All your plans to cheat the Lord of Death will end in a fiasco. Don't ever underestimate him," said the astrologer.

"I will give you all the gold I have saved in my lifetime. Please tell me the way to hide from Yama. I don't want to die within such a short time. I want to live a hundred years more. Do the needful." The astrologer at first guffawed and then heckled at the sculptor and then went on his way.
The sculptor was a very clever chap, and he ransacked his brain to do any trick on planet Earth to avoid his death. Accordingly, he moulded nine statues of his height and the same build, beautifully painted them of his skin colour, attired them uniformly to match his status and turbaned all of them. No one would ever find the sculptor in flesh and blood when he stood amidst his creations.

The appointed hour came. The Lord of Death, armed with a noosed rope, came riding a weird-looking buffalo. Confused at the sight of ten sculptors who look the same, Yama was in a big fix. He asked himself several questions that came down to one. How do you find the right sculptor and noose him? He thought and thought for a long time and finally hit upon an idea.

Yama cleared his throat and said in a loud voice, "What a poor fellow is this sculptor! He is barren of imagination? Not two in this ten resemble the same. And he calls himself a great sculptor, eh?"

The sculptor, who always felt proud of his work, was unable to bear the criticisms of Yama. He immediately stood out of the crowd and, in an angry voice, said, "What did you say? What do you know about clay work? Don't be stupid to find fault with my work."

"Ah! That's it… that is it… come on… let us go. Your time is over," said Yama and snatched the soul from the sculptor's body by noosing it. We may be extraordinarily great in one field or the other. We may be experts in cheating others, but how long….