Irrelevance and anonymity have killed more people than terrorism and natural death together.
We’re surrounded by ghosts—and I don’t mean the supernatural kind. These are people with beating hearts and busy schedules, yet somehow they’ve become disconnected from their own lives. The most unsettling part? I’m witnessing this epidemic spread to children too.
Picture this: if you stopped ten random people on the street tomorrow and asked them three simple questions—Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you doing it?—you’d likely witness thirty seconds of uncomfortable silence followed by answers that sound like they were pulled from a corporate mission statement. Vague, rehearsed, empty.
We’ve become a society of sleepwalkers, all sprinting toward a finish line that keeps moving, chasing prizes we can’t even name. The irony is crushing: each person plays a vital role—as a parent, teacher, friend, creator, problem-solver—yet they feel invisible, replaceable, forgotten.
Here’s a thought experiment that might sound absurd but bear with me: what if everyone wore a nameplate? Not with their job title, but with their true contribution to the world. “Sarita: Makes her daughter laugh every morning.” “Ajay: Fixes things that seemed impossible to repair.” “Priya: Listens when no one else will.”
Maybe then we’d remember that being human isn’t about productivity metrics or social media likes. Maybe we’d see that every single person—from the local shopkeeper who remembers your order to the kid who shares their lunch—is writing a line in the story of humanity.
The question isn’t whether we can wake the walking dead. It’s whether we’re brave enough to wake ourselves first.
What do you think—are we all just sleepwalking through our own lives?
Life as Sakti 