It appears to be human nature—and indeed the nature of every creature in the world—to desire to live as long as possible. In spite of such wishful thinking, humans are subconsciously aware of the grim reality that living forever is impossible, as death is a natural and unavoidable event. In this context, many people wish to be remembered for as long as possible after their passing. There are countless instances of individuals buying or reserving land for their burial or cremation, so that they might remain in the memory of future generations. We often hear of memorials constructed or statues erected by admirers and friends to perpetuate the memory of those who have passed away.
This “greed” for remembrance is widespread, particularly among those with wealth, political power, or celebrity status, who are carried away by the reputation and popularity they command.
What could be the reason for such a strong desire to be remembered, especially when no one knows with certainty what awaits after death? Clearly, such a desire stems from the ego-centric mindset of people, which seems to be a basic feature of human thought, regardless of background.
The reality is that there is no conclusive or proven explanation of where life begins or where it goes after death. Over centuries, saints, sages, and founders of religions have reflected deeply on this subject. Their conclusions, though revered, may be seen as postulates or unproven theories when measured against the rational faculty of human beings.
Some religions teach that souls proceed to heaven or hell after death, depending on their deeds. Hinduism provides a more layered explanation, speaking of rebirths determined by one’s actions. It advocates detachment from material desires and emphasizes the ultimate union of the Jeevatma (individual soul) with the Paramatma or Brahman (the Supreme). The goal is to achieve Ananda (a state of supreme bliss), ending the cycle of birth and death. Hindu thought also emphasizes saranagathi—total surrender to God.
In essence, religions often ask humans to accept their explanations without question and to surrender to the divine. They frame life as a passage toward God, with little intrinsic purpose beyond this. Almost all people, lacking better alternatives, accept one or another of these perspectives. Thus, the desire to be remembered after death may arise from a hollowness in human thought—a shallow impulse.
Science and technology have explained many aspects of life and enabled immense progress in communication, medicine, and artificial intelligence. Cloning, robotics, and AI now substitute human activity in remarkable ways, raising profound questions about whether life is truly governed by divine will. Yet, despite its triumphs, science has not answered the fundamental mysteries: where does life originate, and where does it end? Nor does it show signs of providing an ultimate explanation for “Creation” or the “Creator.” On these questions, science remains silent.
Science also offers no justification for the desire to be remembered, for it has no answer to the deeper questions of existence and death.
Adi Shankara, one of Hinduism’s greatest saints, posed the question, bhaktih kim na karoti?—“What can devotion not achieve?” He taught that unwavering surrender to Brahman was the highest path, implying that the desire for remembrance is ultimately a pursuit in emptiness. Similarly, Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi urged seekers to ask, “Who am I?”—turning the mind inward through self-inquiry. His teaching suggested that the longing for remembrance stems only from ignorance.
In light of such insights, one must ask: is it not shallow to seek remembrance after death—or for admirers to erect memorials and statues to perpetuate the memory of the departed? It seems even more hollow to bestow posthumous awards.
Shallowness or not, it makes no difference to the departed themselves—wherever they may be and whatever they may have become.
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*Trustee, Nandini Voice of the Deprived, Chennai
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