“November 2022: Eight billionth baby is born”, the article read, “A baby girl born in the Philippines is being considered as the symbolic eight billionth person in the world.”

The first thought that crossed my mind was, “Boy, are you late to the party?!”

And the very next thought, “What a wretched world you have laid your eyes on, li’l one!”

It took us more than a century to grow from the first billion to the second billion; about thirty years to the third billion (which includes the cataclysmic second World War). Within the next forty years, we doubled it to six billion and in a matter of only two decades we welcomed our eight billionth inmate. By these stats, it is apparent to even a layman that the population of our civilization is growing at an exponential rate. The core problem however is the increasing longevity of our species. Decreasing rate of mortality –in scientific terms. The ever-increasing population might not have posed a threat to our civilization had our resources been abundant. Studies suggest our precious “blue marble” homes sustainable resources for only about four billion of our species. Now, establishing settlements in other heavenly bodies or inventing ever-increasing modes of accommodation on earth itself, sounds all nice and utopian on paper, but the reality is if we haven’t achieved any of those to date then we truly are living in a “fool’s paradise”.

Painful as it is, pandemics play a very essential role in controlling the population of any species; weeding out the weak, leading to survival of fewer but the fittest. It is said Plague, was one of the most fatal pandemics that culled nearly a third of Earth’s contemporary population. The Covid pandemic had a similar potential. It was extremely infectious and spread merely through close proximity. Since it was a virus there was no known way to effectively kill it. Therefore, theoretically, it was meant to clear out the human infestation with great precision. It would have been massively effective in densely populated areas and reasonably effective in sparsely populated areas and absolutely ineffective in places where external contact was very limited. Evidently, it began in a similar fashion; and showed great promise. But, then came modern medicine with all its PPE Kits, fifth-gen antibiotics and vaccines with ever-so-creative nomenclature. Stopped the infection right at its prime. There have been minor outbreaks since then, but nothing so fancy as to aggressively grasp the media attention. Safe to say, “crisis averted”.

The impact of said crisis, however, has been overwhelming, to say the least. Policies of governance changed abruptly and while some profiteered obscenely others couldn’t. Policies of the workplace changed –“work from home”, an obnoxious concept being introduced. But most of all, we lost nearly 7 million people, so many of them being our close family or relatives or acquaintances.

Pardon me, the last fact was meant to be trifling. Yes. 7 million people amongst 8 billion. 0.0875 per cent! Might seem insensitive, but this is a fact. Covid isn’t the pandemic we should be worried about. The real pandemic is revealed by Covid… Overpopulation! Covid laid bare the glaring dearth of resources and other overwhelming problems we might be facing because of the pandemic of Overpopulation. There is no humane cure for that. How many will survive the pandemic of Overpopulation? How violent will that be? Overpopulation may lead to crises in living space, crises in resources, and rampant diseases with not enough facilities to produce enough cures. Every government system will be crashing because of a huge portion of the non-working-age populace. What would be worse: Dying gasping for breath in a comfortable hospital bed with sufficient support staff and all, or clawing and scavenging for food, water and a roof over your head at a crippling age? I shudder at the thought!

I too lost someone very close to me to the Covid pandemic. I lost my father. He was old and ailing. I loved him and still do, although I fear I didn’t appreciate him enough when he was alive. But I think his death while unfortunate was necessary for my survival and perhaps the survival of his bloodline. I love my father and that is why although I miss him and wish that he would be sitting in that armchair in the corner engrossed with the day’s newspaper, occasionally making snide comments about politics to me, I am happy that he died and that his death was relatively quick therefore involving lesser suffering. He was 69 years old. The average lifespan of man was 70 years a few decades ago. He has done a lot in his lifetime. He had influenced the lives of many people as I now discover. He served his parents well. During the last few years, I saw him grow old. I saw him lose his fire. I felt sorry for him but such is the nature of life. I saw him suffer with his ailing body. He had endured a lot throughout his life as well. Near his end, he still had some incomplete tasks which could never be completed because the time and opportunity to accomplish those tasks had come and gone. I saw him suffer with regrets. The only thing about him that I found fascinating was his thirst for knowledge even near the end of his life. However, the real irony was in the fact that he had a sheer will to live. He wanted to live. That’s what actually reassured me, that come what may this is one tough old bird and that he will make it out this time. Time! Time does catch up with even the most spirited. In the end, even his massive will to fight on couldn’t bring him back. I am happy that he did not go silently into the night. I am sure even with his dying breath he was fighting to cling on to life and that fills me with pride.

I am reminded of him every day since he left. It feels wrong to not remember him. As if not remembering him will erase him from the world. And as much as I remember him, the pain becomes ever more intense. The pain doesn’t go away with time, like they say in the movies. But it does become easier to live with… we kind of get accustomed. The peculiar thing is: that I don’t remember to be so in grief during the days, right after his departure, but with every passing day, I miss him evermore. If only I could hug him one more time. Try to get my arms around him and fail. Have a hearty chat with him about the world. How his predictions turned out to be accurate. I wonder how happy it would have made him with current ongoing events. I wonder what his theories would have been about a certain rejuvenation.

Yes, I mourn the death of my father and shall continue to do so till my last breath. But I also believe that he is in a far better place. With time, I have realized how vexed he might have been with our mortal worries and cares. I have seen how vexed he was physically. Knowing your once very able body is slowly decaying, witnessing the fire in your belly dying out ever so slightly is bound to leave any man broken, especially when he believes he still has some job left in this world. I sympathize with him and that’s why I know wherever he is, he is happy and at peace.

I believe, my father lives on within me, through his love, guidance and meticulous mentorship. I know he lives in me because whenever I feel restless or tempted I feel a voice of reason within me steadying my stature. I know he lives in me when I see how his knowledge has enriched me. I know he lives in me because although, he is no more, a part of me strives to do good and make him proud.

To draw an end, I guess, our loved ones never really leave us. I mean, it would be great if they were around to consult, seek advice, share moments with or simply run their fingers through our hair but I guess, they leave us for our own good. They leave us, but they continue to live on in our memories.

I believe someday, I shall meet my father again. To that day, I am collecting all the memories that I can so that when I meet him I can tell him everything that he missed out on and then continue under his tutelage.

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