So I stumbled across this incredible piece of Kannada Movie Song (Nagara Hole) the other day, and honestly? It’s been living rent-free in my head ever since. You know how sometimes you read something that just makes you stop and go “Wait, that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out about life”?
This is one of those moments.
The poem starts with this absolute truth bomb: “Here is heaven, here is hell, nothing above is false.” I mean, come on. How’s that for cutting straight to the chase? No beating around the bush about some distant afterlife – this poet is basically saying everything you need to know about paradise and suffering is happening right here, right now.
The Three-Day Life (And Why That’s Actually Perfect)
Here’s where it gets really interesting. The next line talks about how between birth and death, we’ve got this “three-day life.” Now, obviously the poet isn’t being literal about three days – they’re talking about how ridiculously short our time here feels.
And you know what? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Doesn’t it sometimes feel like you were just figuring out elementary school, and suddenly you’re wondering about retirement plans? Time has this weird way of feeling both eternal in the moment and lightning-fast in retrospect.
The beauty of calling it a “three-day life” is that it forces you to ask: what are you doing with your three days?
Black, White, and All the Gorgeous Gray Areas
The poet continues with this brilliant observation about colors – black and white exist, just like day and night. But here’s the thing they’re really getting at: life isn’t actually black and white, is it?
We spend so much time trying to categorize everything into good or bad, right or wrong. But honestly? Most of life happens in those in-between spaces. The dawn that’s neither fully night nor day. The decisions that aren’t clearly right or wrong but just… human.
I love how this ancient wisdom basically says, “Look, contrasts exist, deal with it.” No judgment, no hand-wringing about moral complexity. Just acceptance that duality is baked into existence.
Laughter and Tears: The Ultimate Package Deal
“Laughter and crying both exist – how can you refuse them?”
Seriously, can we talk about how profound this is? We spend so much energy trying to maximize happiness and minimize sadness, but this poet is suggesting that’s like trying to have a coin with only one side.
I’ve noticed this in my own life – the moments of deepest joy often come right alongside or after periods of real struggle. Not because I’m a masochist, but because contrast gives meaning to experience. That belly laugh hits different after you’ve been worried sick about something. The relief of solving a problem feels incredible precisely because the problem was genuinely difficult.
The poet even points out this beautiful irony: “When coming, you laugh; only when going do tears appear.” It’s like they’re saying we enter the world ready for joy, but wisdom (and maybe a little sadness) comes from understanding what we’re leaving behind.
The Right to Take What Life Gives
Now this next part gets a bit darker, but stay with me: “What right did I give you to snatch away?”
This hits on something we all struggle with – the feeling that life is taking things from us without our permission. Health, relationships, opportunities, time itself. The poet isn’t offering easy answers here. They’re acknowledging that sometimes life feels like a cosmic pickpocket.
But here’s where the wisdom gets really practical…
Facing the Heat (Because You Don’t Really Have a Choice)
“Like ice melting in the sun, all struggles and losses must be faced with courage – there’s no other path.”
Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this – sometimes life absolutely sucks. The poet isn’t pretending otherwise. But they’re also not wallowing in it. Instead, they’re offering this incredibly grounded perspective: difficulties are like ice in sunlight. They’re going to melt whether you like it or not.
The question isn’t whether you’ll face challenges. The question is whether you’ll face them with courage or spend your energy trying to find an escape route that doesn’t exist.
Becoming Water, Finding Your Way
The final image is my absolute favorite: “Like water penetrating by boring through mountains, if you keep moving forward, you’ll find your own path.”
Water doesn’t fight the mountain. It doesn’t complain about how hard the rock is. It just… persists. Consistently, patiently, relentlessly. And eventually, it carves the Grand Canyon.
I think about this whenever I’m facing something that seems impossible. Water doesn’t need to be stronger than rock – it just needs to be more persistent. And honestly? That feels way more achievable than trying to become some unstoppable force.
Why This Ancient Wisdom Still Hits Different
What strikes me most about this poetry is how practical it is. There’s no mystical nonsense or unrealistic positivity. It’s just someone who’s clearly lived a full life saying, “Here’s what I’ve figured out about how this whole thing works.”
The poet acknowledges that life is brief, contradictory, and sometimes painful. But instead of being depressing, this acknowledgment becomes liberating. Once you accept that struggle is part of the package, you can focus on what actually matters: how you show up, how you persist, and how you find your unique way forward.
Maybe that’s the real heaven and hell they’re talking about in the first line – heaven is accepting life as it is while still working to make it better. Hell is fighting reality while missing out on the actual experience of being alive.
What do you think? Have you ever had one of those moments where ancient wisdom just clicks with modern life? I’d love to hear about it.
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