If I didn't have children, I think my life would be a failure.

Host: The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp hanging above the table, its light spilling across old books and papers strewn about in quiet disarray. The rain outside tapped gently on the window, the sound soft and rhythmic, like a distant lullaby. Jeeny sat with her legs tucked beneath her on the couch, a mug of tea cradled in her hands, her gaze lost somewhere in the shadows of the room. Jack sat opposite her, his fingers tracing the edge of a coffee cup, his brow furrowed in thought. The air was thick with a quiet tension, like the calm before a deep conversation.

Jeeny: “You ever think about what really matters, Jack? What makes life… worth it?”

Jack: “I think it’s about achievement. About success. Making something of yourself, you know? Accomplishing your goals, building something meaningful.”

Host: Jeeny let out a soft breath, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of something more profound, more personal.

Jeeny: “But what if that’s not enough? What if the real meaning of life is something… simpler? I read this quote the other day by Yann Martel. He said, ‘If I didn’t have children, I think my life would be a failure.’”

Jack: “Failure? Seriously? That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? I mean, you’re talking about putting the weight of your whole life into one thing—your kids? What if you don’t have kids? What if parenthood just isn’t for you?”

Host: The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, the flickering light casting a soft glow on Jeeny’s thoughtful expression as she set her cup down gently on the table.

Jeeny: “I think it’s not just about the children, Jack. It’s what they represent. Connection. Legacy. The idea that life isn’t just about what you achieve for yourself, but what you create, what you leave behind. The impact you have on others.”

Jack: “And you think children are the only way to leave an impact? What if you don’t want to have kids? Does that make your life a failure too?”

Host: The air seemed to thicken, the weight of the conversation hanging between them. Jeeny’s eyes narrowed slightly, her hands stilling on her lap.

Jeeny: “No, it’s not about just having children. It’s about what they symbolize—the idea of giving. Of creating something that outlives you. In some way, it’s a connection to something beyond yourself. Don’t you think that matters?”

Jack: “I don’t know, Jeeny. I don’t think having kids automatically gives your life meaning. Some people live incredible lives without kids, without a family. What about artists, or writers, or anyone who leaves a mark on the world in another way?”

Host: Jeeny’s gaze softened, but there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, as though she was revealing something deeper, something that mattered more than just an abstract debate.

Jeeny: “Maybe, Jack, but I think it’s about balance. Martel’s quote speaks to something we all feel deep down. We want to connect. We want to know that what we do in life means something beyond just us. Children offer that. They offer the chance to nurture, to guide someone into the world. It’s not about needing them—it’s about what they represent in the story of your life.”

Jack: “But why does it have to be children? Why can’t it be about relationships, or friendships, or just impacting the world in a different way? Why do we have to tie our success to one specific idea of what a fulfilled life looks like?”

Host: The room grew quieter as Jeeny sat back, her expression thoughtful, but her voice steady as she responded.

Jeeny: “Because, Jack, not everyone has the same kind of connection with life that others do. Some people find it in their work, some in their art, but others find it in family. It’s the depth of that connection, the feeling that you’ve left something behind, that gives it meaning. Martel felt that his life would have been a failure without his children, because for him, that was the ultimate expression of purpose.”

Jack: “So, you think a person’s life is a failure if they don’t have kids? If they don’t fit into some kind of prescribed notion of what life should look like?”

Host: There was a pause, the rain outside now heavier, as if the weather was echoing the intensity of the moment. Jeeny’s hands rested on her lap, her eyes locked on Jack.

Jeeny: “No, not at all. I think failure is the wrong word. It’s not about failure—it’s about fulfillment. And for some people, children are the way they find that fulfillment. Others find it elsewhere. I just think Martel’s point is that we can’t reduce meaning to just what we achieve. Sometimes, it’s about what we give, what we leave behind.”

Jack: “I guess. But I still believe in independence, in the idea that a person’s life can have meaning even without following someone else’s path. That meaning comes from within, not from some external expectation of what life should be.”

Host: Jeeny’s smile was faint, but there was an understanding in her eyes, as though she recognized the truth in Jack’s words, even if she didn’t fully agree.

Jeeny: “Maybe. But for some, the path they choose is about giving life to others, about passing on a part of themselves. And I think that’s what Martel was really talking about. It’s not about saying that everyone has to have children. It’s about recognizing that there’s more than one way to find fulfillment, and sometimes, that fulfillment comes in a form we don’t always expect.”

Jack: “I guess we just see it differently. But I understand what you’re saying.”

Host: The rain continued to fall softly outside, its rhythm a gentle reminder of the passage of time. Jeeny and Jack sat in silence, the weight of their conversation lingering in the room. The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the questions of purpose and meaning that had just been discussed, but for them, in that moment, it was all that mattered.