at birth, we take a ticket to the destination - death. Whether we think of it or do not think of it, it will come. However uncertain all other things are, death is certain. As the sun sets on the western hill, it has devoured a portion of our life. Thus our days decrease, life tapers off, drop by drop the cup is emptied - but man takes no notice of all this.
न कोई संगी साथी ऐसा, जो जीवन में साथ चले,
इन मेलों में रहकर, मजबूर हम अकेले चले
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