There's a saying Śrī Prem Prayojan Prabhu's teacher loved to repeat: what's the use of weeping once the birds have eaten your whole crop? You planted the seed — and walked off. You set up no scarecrow, didn't guard the field, waved it away: there's time. And when you came back, the pecked-over field was gone, and tears were useless. The meaning is simple and a little prickly. Right now you're young, it seems there's time to spare. But one day, quite unnoticed, your hair turns white and your face wrinkles like a prune. Old age comes with no warning; it's already on its way while you say "later." These words don't frighten you — they wake you: decide and sow now, because everything real needs time to grow.