What a life it is? Woke up in the morning, had breakfast, took a bath, went to work, came back, again had a meal, watched TV, scratched someone here and there, and slept away again. And repeat next morning. So, to sum up, what did you get this month? Nothing!
Months will keep changing. Years will pass by. You used to be young; you will see your hair going grey, your teeth have become loose. One day your death will be standing in front of you; you are empty-handed, you haven’t earned a thing. Your death will laugh at you: “You were given so many years—what did you live? What did you do?”
This is called small life. It might be eighty, ninety years long—but even then it still is a small life.