Of course, 27 is just a number. In fact, beyond school years, I am rarely able to tell you my age without calculating it in my head. My twenties become almost monotonous – age doesn’t make any difference at all.
And today, I, thankfully turn 27.
I told my colleagues – 27 and expecting a child sounds just nice. They agree. But those are too-typical life milestones – getting married, become parents, have a career.
Great people of the past, al Ghazali died at the age of 55 leaving a magnum opus that is read by millions, even after a thousand years. Other great Muslims scholars that I look up to left this world relatively young – Imam As-Shafei was barely 45, while Imam an-Nawawi was only in his fifties – but these two left a trasure proven useful for generations after.
And where does that leave me?
If 50 is the number of year God has given me to live in this Earth, after spending half of it, I am nowhere near to being an agent of change, nor fulfilling my tasks, or fully developing my potential to actually contribute to any good cause.
I might sound too bitter, I agree.
But a change is always necessary – birthdays are always overcelebrated while in reality, we put no effort to live until whatever age we are -it is beyond our control and why should we take credit on it?
It should have served as a reminder that we are getting nearer to the day we are to leave this world instead, and consequently of what action should be taken to make full use of remaining days.