Innovative marketing strategies

It was not another mundane day of my life as everything seemed bright and gay that day. When I woke up, the dazzling rays of sun were sending the divine blessing in my room.I was not tired mentally and psychologically as I used to be at the threshold of each new day previously. It was my first day at work after promotion. When I reached office, every face was glowing with mirth and joy. The colors of the building were shining vibrantly. I wondered whether it was really true or was a mere reflection of inner self and satisfaction.Whatever the case was, I felt that Life had some worth and world was too better a place to live ad enjoy. My ecstasy coupled with promotional fulfillment capacitated me to think of deliver according to my high professional caliber. Innovative marketing strategies, patterns and procedures to develop new products, cost effective, time management, all these were in my mind when I heard the tone of the phone bell, ringing continuously. I thought it be another tim e-wasting congratulatory call from my friends. With a sense of pride I received the phone but there was a strange voice giving me a strange message.My previous state of ecstasy faded soon and an air of melancholy pervaded over me. The colors of the walls were no more bright, the time on the wall-clock in front of desk was blurred. I told my boss that I am laving but I don’t remember what reason I told him for leaving so early. His face was full of astonishment and. I passed the lobby and found every one suffering from strange pathos and miseries. There was not a tinge of happiness on their faces. Truth came to me at-once that this is the ultimate reality of life.I refused to believe it. My mind failed to swallow the news. I was not myself. I found her lying on the bed as stiff as steel and as cold as ice. Slowly the ice in my mind started melting and the painful truth started dawning on me. I realized that she is no more with me alive. That she is dead.I started becoming disi llusioned about everything. I found myself face to face with the eternal realities of this earth. That death is the only thing in life that is absolutely certain.Sweeping reforms and far reaching revolutions may take place in society, but death, will remain. Science may learn the art of prolonging the individual human life far, far beyond the century mark, but ultimately death must and will come. This being so, one should have thought that human beings would, through sheer familiarity, become so used to this event that they would hardly think about it, emotionally, philosophically or poetically.My mother’s death made me realized that try as we may, we cannot summon back from the past those rare remembered joys that lifted us on high. Time is irreversible, and one minute gone is as completely irretrievable as a day or a year. It is not only the fleetingness of single moment that makes us sensitive to the sting of transience. Months, years, decades, whole lives seem to pass wit h the same uncanny swiftness. Almost before we know it the cold gray season of death is upon us. These are hard truths that I started understanding.The true comprehension of death never made me recover from the shock of my beloved mother’s death. It haunts me hitherto. My grief made me completely lost my poise and become almost insane. The world, it appeared to me, had raised a sting for me, and I knew not where to descend. I seemed to waver and quiver and threatened to burst into flames. I wanted to remain unseen, unnoticed and always felt that people were pointing at me.At odds with the world, I remained lost in my thoughts, sojourning in other-worldly regions, unmindful of what happened around me. I started feeling like a hollow man in a possibly hollow universe. Life loses all its meanings for me. I found myself like a square peg in a round hole. The death of my mother made me stand face to face with the greatest mystery of all times. The grief that this event brought wit h it and the comprehension of this eternal truth completely destabilized my whole existence. Â