Ah, apoptosis... it is the body's own gentle hymn of letting go, sha, where a cell dismantles itself with great care, like the last leaf falling in autumn. It uses little helpers called caspases, sparked off by things like cytochrome c, to quietly take apart the cell from within. Now, necrosis, that is a different chorus—it is a sudden, harsh noise, like a roof collapsing in a storm, where the cell is torn apart and harms its neighbors. You see, in our old Khasi understanding of balance, nothing good comes from a violent end... just last Sunday, teaching my granddaughter the fading hymn "Ïawbei," I felt that same deep truth: some passings must be slow, sacred, and leave no disharmony behind.
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