The Question
We all believe that we are different.
Different dreams, different struggles, different destinies.
But the truth whispered quietly in my mind—
What if our lives are not as unique as we think?
For days, the question kept circling inside my head.
What does a human truly do in life?
How do they keep moving forward?
Do we really follow different paths?
Or are we simply walking the same road, only at different times?
I couldn't find the answer.
One afternoon, while wandering alone through a quiet old town,
I noticed an elderly man sitting under a banyan tree.
His wrinkled face held countless stories—
tired, yet calm…
almost like he had already lived all the questions I was struggling with.
Something drew me toward him.
I sat beside him and asked,
"Sir… how did you spend your youth?
What did you do with your life?"
He looked at me for a moment—
as if he could see deeper than my words.
Then a faint smile crossed his lips
Chapter 2 — The Same Road
"Our lives," he began,
"are not as different as we imagine.
We carry the same responsibilities,
walk the same cycle,
and disappear in the same way.
Yet each of us thinks we are special…
that our story is different."
He picked up a dry leaf from the ground,
turning it slowly between his fingers.
"When we are born," he said,
"we come empty-handed.
Rich, poor, powerful, forgotten—
all the same.
Then life teaches us how to stand,
how to speak,
how to survive."
He paused, as though recalling distant memories.
"Childhood feels different for each of us—
but it is almost identical…
play, study, mistakes, lessons.
Then comes youth.
Ah… youth."
He laughed softly.
"That's when we think—
My life will be different.
I will change everything.
But slowly…
time teaches us that the road is the same.
Some work,
some build families,
some chase wealth…
but the pattern remains."
I stayed silent.
He spoke as if he had already lived every life in the world.
"Life," he continued,
"is like a river.
Some flow fast,
some slow—
but all rivers end in the same sea.
Birth → growth → dreams → struggle → love → loss → and finally—
silence."
Just then, the wind blew,
carrying with it dried leaves along the road.
He watched them quietly.
"We chase happiness our whole life.
But at the end,
we discover the same truth—
the same desires,
the same endings.
Growing up isn't about changing the world.
It's about understanding yourself…
and accepting that you are a part of the same river."
He suddenly pointed at an abandoned house across the street.
"Do you see that place?" he asked.
I nodded.
"A young man once lived there.
Brilliant.
He believed he was born to be different—
to rewrite the world.
He left this town to chase greatness.
Years passed.
He returned—
older, quieter.
When I asked him what he learned,
he told me.
'I searched everywhere for a different destiny…
but every road I took led to the same truth—
people live, love, suffer, and leave.
Only their faces change.'
He died peacefully,
no achievements written on stone,
but accepting the truth."
The old man looked at me again—
this time more deeply.
"For years, I thought he had failed.
But now…
I think he understood more than any of us."
As he spoke,
a strange realization formed inside me.
"Sir," I asked,
"How do you know that boy so well?"
He smiled… a sad, peaceful smile.
"Because that boy…
was me."
I froze.
He continued,
"I was the one who tried to escape life,
to walk a different road.
But no matter how far I went,
I returned to the same truth."
He stood up slowly,
leaning on his wooden cane.
"We think we are unique.
But life humbles us.
Our thoughts make us different,
but our fate makes us the same."
He began to walk away…
and as he did, he said:
"If you wish to be different…
don't try to escape the river.
Learn how to flow in it.
That is true freedom."
And then—
he vanished into the crowd.
I remained under the banyan tree,
holding his words in my heart—
unable to tell
whether his story was real…
or a mirror of my own destiny.
But one thing was clear:
We are not truly different.
We are simply moving
through time
on the same silent river.