The Futility of Being Remembered: A Reflection on Life's True Purpose

Life is a strange phenomenon. People are born, people die. ¹Some are forgotten, and some are remembered. ²This has led me to a question that echoes in my journals: why do people want to be remembered? ³What difference does it make to them, after they have died, whether they are remembered or not? ⁴We exist in a state of profound uncertainty, knowing neither the smallest thing about our universe nor the largest. ⁵ Why, then, is there such a powerful drive to leave a permanent mark?

I confess I have a complicated relationship with the idea of legacy. On one hand, I have written that I would never want to walk in anyone's footsteps, but that I would "want to leave such an impact on my own path that some other Gaurav might be influenced by it." ⁶ This isn't a desire for a name carved in stone, but a hope for a quiet, positive influence—a subtle ripple. It’s a desire to be a good mentor, perhaps, but not a historical figure.

This is because the pursuit of a grand legacy often feels like a trap. I've found more clarity not in a list of things I want to achieve, but in a list of things I resolve not to become. My ambition is different; it is a list of intentions that includes, "I don't intend to become extra ordinary" and, most importantly, "I don't intend to be remembered in history." ⁸My focus is on a different principle: a belief in causing "minimum harm instead of maximum gains." ⁹

Perhaps the search for a single, overarching purpose is the wrong approach entirely. I often feel like a paradox myself. In my diary, I wrote:

"What do I want? I myself don't know. ¹⁰I want to fly, but I want to stay on the ground. ¹¹I want to be faster than light, but I want to remain calm. ¹²I want to be rich, but I want to remain poor. ¹³I want to expand into the universe, but I want to remain confined in my own small world. ¹⁴I want everything, but I want nothing." ¹⁵

Living with these contradictions feels more honest than chasing a singular, defined legacy. It accepts that we are complex and that our purpose may not be a grand, final destination to be admired by future generations, but rather the quality of the journey itself. The true purpose might not be found in the monument erected by the state, but in the quiet, daily decisions we make—the choice to be kind, to cause minimal harm, and to live authentically within our own beautiful, contradictory selves.