Landing the dream job will not save you on an empty Tuesday evening.
You can buy a comfortable apartment, stockpile personal savings, and tick off every far-flung destination on your bucket list. Yet when good news arrives and your phone shows no one to message first, those trophies lose their luster fast. The ache is universal. Indian author Ruskin Bond tackled that exact void across decades of writing on human affection, offering a raw remedy: tie your life to another person outside your own head.
Bond boiled that imperative down to a few spare, devastating lines:
We must love someone > If we are to justify > Our presence on this earth. > We must keep loving all our days, > Someone, anyone, anywhere > Outside our selves; > For even the sarus crane > Will grieve over its lost companion, > And the seal its mate. > Somewhere in life > There must be someone > To take your hand > And share the torrid day. > Without the touch of love > There is no life, and we must fade away.
Most modern days burn away on self-preservation alone.
We chase paychecks, file utility receipts, coordinate packed calendars, and dread what may unravel six months down the road. But pure self-absorption quickly leaves a life sterile. Caring for someone else instantly breaks that spiral. You track the cadence of their day, worry when their voice sounds raspy, and celebrate their small wins with genuine delight.
He demands no heroics.
It looks like brewing a cup of ginger tea for your mother before she asks. It looks like dialing an old college friend on your commute home just to hear their voice, or waiting up until a sibling texts that their cab pulled into the driveway. Those tiny, quiet rituals cost nothing—yet they pull us back into the world.
Bond looks beyond humans to make his point, turning his lens straight toward the animal kingdom.
He invokes the sarus crane and the seal—two creatures that mourn companions when separated. The sarus crane pairs for life, standing tall across Indian wetlands as an enduring emblem of loyalty. When one dies, the other grieves openly. Seals mirror that same fierce social bond across harsh waters.
Attachment is an instinct, not an invention.
If you find yourself running through this week on autopilot, stop measuring your days solely by productivity metrics. Step away from your desk. Call the friend who went quiet, check on your parents, or pour that cup of tea—because finding someone to share the torrid day is what keeps us human.