Suspension of Suspicion

I feel bad for my brother, who has been having tough time with his wife for the past many years, the main problem being suspicion of his wife. He is now so frightened of his wife that he does not even dare to speak to his siblings freely and candidly. My sister reported to me that his wife does not even allow him to speak to my sister, who had lost her husband a year ago, and is now staying at our house. With a child studying in class 3, and my brother now nearing almost 45, his wife still claims that he is not a clean man. But then why did she choose to marry him? She is plain – she did not know that he was of that type.

I have come to know what suspicion can do to families; if my brother’s family is in deep trouble, it is all because of the suspicion of my sister-in-law, so much so that she feels obliged to guard her husband all the time. Formerly my brother used to play leadership roles in the Church and community service, but my sister-in-law had forced him to stop all these, because she suspected him speaking to ladies, some of them too young, and she could not tolerate it. She had not verified any of her allegations, and everyone knows for sure most of her allegations are baseless, but that is how suspicions grow and thrive. If only she had trusted my brother and believed in him, the family would be a happy and peaceful family.

Any relationship is based on trust and confidence; I feel frightened of relating to persons who are suspicious of my relationship with others, and sometimes I even dare to tell them that I cannot relate to persons who have innate capacity to suspect. If these people suspect my faithfulness, fidelity and commitment to them, and try to check for themselves if I am failing in fulfilling my part, then they may be spared; but if they begin to suspect how I am relating to others, if I am closer and more intimate with others than this particular person, then I consider it unwarranted, and is breaking the basic trust I had in her, and she in me.

Any relationship is sure to crack the very moment one of the partners raises the question of faithfulness and fidelity; even in marriage, the mutual relationship is strengthened and revitalised by trust and confidence. A wife cannot follow her husband wherever he goes, and similarly a husband cannot follow his wife wherever she goes. There are indeed possibilities of mistakes and slips, especially if the gentleman or the lady is smart and good-looking, and therefore attracts many persons to him/her. But that should not be construed as betrayal of the one s/he is committed to. We cannot live as an island, and need the support of all in society, and restricting any kind of relationship is sure to slowly break the social fabric.

Common sense says that if I begin to suspect my partner in a relationship, what is the guarantee that my companion cannot suspect me of the same, and how can I prove to the other that I am beyond all suspicion? I have begun to trust my friends unconditionally, and do not feel the need to know anything about with whom they are relating to, what their relationship is like, and how many times they speak to each other, what they write to each other on email, etc. I find it quite unnecessary and immaterial, because that is not my concern. I can be concerned about my relationship with her, but not her relationship with someone else. She has to manage it, irrespective of me, and I respect her freedom to do so! She may even have my blessings for it.

Tear-jerking

All of us indulge in crying at one time or other; I am not talking about the babies crying for food, or when they lose a game, or when they get a whack from their parents or friends. I am talking about adults shedding tears, in silence, and in public out of overwhelming pain and agony. There are many adults who are not initiated to crying in public, even when their life-supports are snatched from them; when they lose their dearest ones, when they lose all fortunes due to ill-luck. I feel sad for them, because there is no greater catharsis than by shedding the burdens through tears, and no wonder for most of us, it comes so naturally.

Women are said to be more prone to shedding tears, at the slightest excuse, but researches show that men are no less. In some societies, men shedding tears is considered sign of cowardice and unmanly act, and so even when they go through untold agony, they are to retain not only their emotions under control, but also their tears. I wonder how these men are able to suppress all their vital emotions and still be able to go about as if nothing on earth has ever happened in their lives, and I would not be surprised if these people suffer from not only grievous psychological, but also physical ailments. The unexpressed emotions will have to find a suitable outlet in some form or other.

I don't think we all should imitate the Rajasthani women, 'rudali', the hired cry-girls, who are often invited to cry during the death and funeral procession of persons. These are professional women, who can cry convincingly and courageously for a price, as if they had lost their own dear ones. These people probably may have an extra dose of lacrite enzyme which secretes far more tears than most of us. Scientific researches have also shown that there is no better way to clean the eyes than by shedding tears; there cannot be a better eye drops to “cleanse” the eyes, than the tears of one's own eyes.

Many of the Indian films are often dubbed as 'tear-jerkers', and if that be the case with popular films, then probably the Bengali films might win the first prize for tear-jerking. Every ten to fifteen minutes, the audience are presented with a crying scene, which may impel the audience to join the crying hero or heroine. But such films do faithfully what the Greek tragedies, and to a certain extent Shakespearean tragedies too, had done, to provide scope for catharsis, purging of one's emotions, so that at the end of the play the audience is able to go home with a sigh of relief, that all that happened on stage were only imaginary.

Another great consolation for those who find it hard to control tears, even at ripe old age; I understand for women it comes more naturally, but for the men it may require some effort. The consoling factor is that the Gospels say that even Jesus shed tears; though John makes that pithy sentence about Jesus weeping for his friend Lazarus (And Jesus wept! Jn 11:35), Jesus is also described to have shed tears for Jerusalem. We know Jesus also would have shed silent tears as he spent the long hours of night along with His Father. It is not that we need to invite tears for no reason, but when they do come, it may be to our benefit, not to stop them!

Dreams, Sweet Dreams!

There were great men and women in the annals of world history, who had great dreams for the world and for their nation; some of the speeches of great men reiterating their dreams have become models of public speech. But unfortunately not all can dream the kind of dream they should dream; there are limitations all around them; their blissful dreams are rudely cut short by hardcore reality, which drags them to confront the misery, despair and hardship they had been trying hard to forget. But that is just one kind of dream that we often hear about, the dreams which shape and mould human beings, and civilizations. For now however I would turn my attention to commonplace dreams.

Is there anyone who does not get dreams while sleeping? All of us, big or small, men or women, Hindu or Muslim, all of us dream, and most often we have no control over what we dream. In other words, we cannot pre-plan and program our minds in such a way that we should get only one kind of dreams. Luckily human beings have not managed to enter into that part of the brain, which controls every one of our dreams. Thank God for them, we are able to get a glimpse of our unconscious and subconscious mind, and are awestruck at the way our dreams project our personality traits, our orientations and our choices. Ultimately our dreams are truly our true selves.

Psychoanalysts and psychiatrists depend a lot on dreams to get to know the mind of their clients; though we cannot swear by analysis of our dreams and their implications in our daily living, one thing is for sure, they have certain layers of our personality which is not known to anyone, living or dead. Sigmund Freud and his disciple Carl Jung had tried to understand dreams, and Freud’s interpretation of dreams is still considered a masterpiece. But what happens when we get up early in the morning with our minds not able to remember the dreams we had lived so vividly a few hours ago? Some say that often there would be a particular pattern in our dreams, which may offer significant clue to our personality.

When a person enters into the alpha stage of sleep, what we may call the deep sleep, then the body, mind and spirit are in unison, and that is the moment when many of the deep-seated traits and elements of our being surface from our un/sub conscious. When we move from that deep sleep to shallow sleep, the dreams part, and we may sometimes have only traces or tailpieces of those dreams. For one thing, we cannot force ourselves to remember and recollect the dreams we had in the morning, and there is no mechanism to cultivate our minds to recapture our dreams. Maybe in the future, scientists will be able to do that, but for now, we have no way of finding it.

Recently one of our senior fathers had narrated some of the most beautiful dreams he had, while undergoing treatment for typhoid; when I asked him if he had dreams, he told me that he did not dream, but re-lived those glorious moments of the past. There was a sweet glow around him, as he began to narrate them (several times) to me. I am trying to recapture one or two of my past events, which can become the tonic for my soul, so that when I am down and unable to cope with reality around me, I can look up to them and draw consolation and solace. I know some of the seemingly insignificant events of my life, but were shaping moments, will one day pop up during sleep and carve a niche in my self, to show light to my path!

Mountains out of Molehills

To make mountains out of molehills is something that everyone is good at; exaggeration is an easy art which all of us master without our knowing. No one needs to teach us how to exaggerate beyond all proportion the mistakes of our companions, friends or coworkers, and exaggerate our own achievements as well. In the same way, over reacting to things, persons and events is yet another thing which we get used to too easily. In all these things mentioned above, there is surely a truth factor, but if the fact is only 25 per cent and the rest is mere fabrication and exaggeration, then even the little bit of fact may get submerged in exaggeration.

I did not mean to react to what had happened to my friend; it was something to do with her personal relationship, and it was not proper that I reacted very strongly towards this incident, which had disturbed my friend, and later disturbed me too. At the bottom of it all, there were several lays of insecurity, jealousy and possessiveness, which surfaced in the form of anger and over-reaction. When the mind is too agitated, it does not see any reason; it tends to look at everything through a particular color glass, which might be quite different from plane reality. I was carried away by what happened to her, without looking at it in a proper context.

To probe into facts before reacting to pigment of the mind is something that most of us are not used to; we are used to reacting to things, persons and events, and only later seeing a point in what had taken place; if only I had taken time off to calm my mind to see the incident with objectivity, probably I would have saved the excessive emotional outbreak, which smothered my spirit at least for half a day. There is a tendency in me to react to things, persons and events sometimes too strongly; so when I am biased and prejudiced against certain person, I have learned to postpone the confrontation, anything which might force me to break out, because of the exaggerated nature of the negligible amount of truth.

There is no human person who does not have bias and prejudice towards particular person or groups of people. In the recent times we had been reading about the attacks on Indians and people of Indian origin in Australia, a clear sign of prejudice and racism, though the Australian government seems to deny the charges. Most often these bias and prejudices are based on either ignorance or lack of proper information. If an Australian attacks an Indian, because the former thought the latter was there to swindle Australian resources, it is surely not a fact; or it could happen the Australian thought that the Indians were “untouchable” and had no right to live in Australia, the argument may not hold water. At the core of it all is prejudice leading to exaggeration, further leading to overreaction.

There is not a single day in our lives, when we do not over react to things, persons and events; at least two or three occasions in a day we exaggerate things beyond all proportion; this has become our second nature, and most often we do it quite unconsciously, and we may not even realize the need to look into it. If only we learn to pay attention to facts and truth, then we may be spared from so much of mental tension and anxiety; but it is also true that not always we have access to all facts and figures, and that only complicates the matters to our disadvantage. But being alert not to exaggerate and thus overreact to things, persons and incidents can save high blood pressures!

Caring for the Treasure House

We often realize the worth of things and persons only in their absence. A father may be the worst kind of person and notorious drunkard, and the mother may curse him each day, why God is not calling him; but look at the same mother after the untimely death of the father. She would not be happy to have lost her husband; she would feel the pinch only when he is no more there. Probably all these years, she was able to look only at his drunkenness, and not any thing else. But after his death, she realizes that he was much more than a mere drunkard; at least sometimes, when he was sober, he used to be affectionate and loving towards her.

The same is also true of our human body; we do not realize what a treasure house we possess in our bodies; maybe a whole life will not be sufficient to understand the minute intricate mechanism which is operative in our bodies; the crisscrossing of veins, bones, flesh, and all of them perfectly linked to the mind, the central processing unit. When one of the body parts is dysfunctional, it affects the entire body, and that is what is so very obvious, when we look at one of our senior friends, who has spoiled both his kidneys, and is frantically on the look out for a donor, and a nursing home which will conduct the transplant.

Life is not the same when these kidneys have refused to filter the waste; he has to go for four agonising hours of dialysis, twice a week. When he returns after the dialysis, he is half dead; he has not much energy, and each day, as his body weight increases due to the accumulation of urine, he feels uncomfortable, and so cannot engage in any serious work. Life has come to a standstill for him, and therefore whenever there is a ray of hope for transplant, he gets excited, and sincerely hopes that something good will come out of this desire. When he neglected the care of his body for several years, he did not realize what could happen to him one day, and today he regrets for neglecting the care of his health.

It is illegal to even indirectly convince a person to donate one of his/her kidneys so that this friend of ours may live a fairly healthy life, for atleast another ten or fifteen years. It is also unethical, to imply that our friend's life is more worthwhile than the donor, even if it is a friend who has come forward to do this great favor. The moral and ethical questions are not easy to resolve, though it is easy to cut short the arguments on the ground that all lives are equal, and if one has destroyed one's kidneys due to neglect, it is for the one to reap the fruits of what he had done, but humanly speaking we cannot stop at that.

Most of us falter in life, not out of willful, deliberate action, but out of ignorance and carelessness. If only our friend had known for sure that if he did not care for his health, and take necessary precaution, he may lose his kidneys, probably he might not have landed at this stage. But could he be given yet another chance to taste and see what life has to offer to him? It is a big lesson for us, to realize the worth of each of the body parts, big or small, all of them have a specific role and function. Yesterday I saw a middleaged man, whose both feet have been amputated. Yet he looked quite happy, walking on his knees. He may feel envious of us, but do we sufficiently care for our feet?

Cheating LIfe Cheerfully

One of our senior Fathers had been ill for quite sometime now; he was admitted to a nursing home, initially diagnosed Malaria, but later the physicians changed their opinion saying it could be thyphoid! The man who was known as a soft-spoken all these years, suddenly became over talkative. He spoke profusely and did not feel tired of talking for a long time. He would talk for about an hour and at the end of which would say that he was talking too much those days, and yet would not stop talking. He repeated many of the stories he had been obsering from the first day in the nursing home.

The physicians who were treating him were not surprised that he was finding it hard to cope with the nursing home routine; he did not like the food given in there, and so the sisters living close to our house, decided to offer him lunch every day, something what he liked a lot. Our college too prepared something for his breakfast and got it reached for him. At 85, it is normal that the senior citizens ask for a little more attention than they would otherwise ask for. He had a steady stream of guests and visitors, walking into his room in the nursing home, and he had to repeat all the stories to all of them, everytime they turned up.

Even at this age, he had a strong will power and stamina to accept it with a cheer, and tried to enjoy the days he stayed in the nursing home, sometimes the saline given round the clock. He had a fondness for a young caregiver (nurse), who took liberty to look after him with felial love and devotion. But he was not in favor with the senior caregiver, who deprived him of the pillow during the first three days, without consulting with the physician attending on him, and he could not forgive her for that. But he got along cheerfully with the younger nurse, and even spoke quite high of her.

Everytime I visited him in the nursing home or in the college, where he is now, he would make it a point to repeat again and again that he was definitely making a great progress. At one time, he even said that his hearing had improved after the stay in the nursing home, and his appetite too had improved. He surely plans to live upto the age of 95, and I would not be surprised if he really makes it, because he has the will power to live, with great cheerfulness. He is quite disciplined, and has his daily routine, which include an hour of evening walk in the nearby garden, meals at the appointed time, water 8 glasses at stipulated hours, and his diet is also quite constant.

If there is anyone who has zest for life, he is surely one such. Today as I walked into his room, he was on the internet, sending mails to his family back in Belgium about his health. After several days, he was back to emails, and he was quite happy to say hello to his nieces and nephews, who might have been worried what had happened to him. He has very little grudges, though he is not altogether free from prejudices, but knows how to occupy his time. He looks much better than what he was before the attack of fever some three weeks ago. I only wish I be like him, when I reach 85!

Marking the Milestones

For the past few days, I had been counting the number of blogs that I had written so far under Two Minutes a Day with God (some have commented to me that it in fact, takes more than two minutes to read each of the blogs!), and with the last number, I had completed 200! That is, two centuries, and here is the first one of the next century, and I hope I would be able to continue batting without getting tired of thinking aloud, pouring out my own feelings and sentiments, echoing the sweet and sour moorings of the world around me. It is no more a challenge to pour out what I feel openly and candidly.

But that is not the case with everyone who may wish to blog on the net! For some, the initial couple of blogs may even be traumatic and chaotic; on the one hand is the content, and on the other is the formatting, visual effects, and the stylistic elements. It may be more confusing to get all of these things going steadily and smoothly in the initial blogs. Here is a tip for the beginners : don't start the Blogger page and start keying in the content online; it would be better to go to the word processor and compose the matter slowly and carefully, and then copy the matter (in Windows Ctrl-C), and then paste it (Ctrl-V) on the blogger text box. This would guarantee that the content is taken good care of.

But what about the visuals, the photos and drawings? Where do I get these from? Easy! The internet contains any visual or picture that one might imagine; all that one needs to do is to go to the google or any other Search Engine, and type what sort of picture you need, and in a minute you have the picture. Choose the most appropriate and visually most appealing (not forgetting the file size and format; I prefer medium size and format almost always JPEG) picture and save it in My Pictures folder with a file name which is easy for me to remember! Once that is done, all that I have to do is to link the picture with the text and upload it. In a minute, it is done.

Blogs are not meant to be literary pieces, sometimes they may turn out to be, and in which case, it is only accidental. They are pages of my digital diary; they may contain errors in spelling, in grammar, in quotations, but do these matter much? If I become a very popular figure, whom thousands of men and women may follow, then I should be very careful about what I am writing, for in such a situation, I can be sure to be torn apart by the readers-viewers for even a wrong comma, or a period. But for most of us, who use blogs for self-expression, anything can be allowed, provided it remains largely personal.

There is no better reading material for me, when I am down, or when the spirit is low, than to go back to the blogs of my earlier days. Often I have felt that most of the things I had written months back, come back alive to me, and I find it quite refreshing to go back to them again. Sometimes the writings appear new to me, and I cannot even imagine that I had written it months ago. The reason for this is simple : once the feeling is poured out, it becomes the property of the public, and not any more mine, and that is the reason why they appear to me new and fresh, when I read them after some months. After all, any wine which has been preserved for years and months will taste better for sure!

Turning a New Leaf

The young man came to me spontaneously, and asked me where the Father was, and when I told him that I was the one, he was a bit surprised, but after a few seconds introduced himself, how he reached this alcoholics/drug-addicts rehabilitation center. Hailing from one of the Seven Sisters in the North Eastern India, he had been addicted to alcohol and drugs for the past eight years. For a 23 year old man, eight years of life with alcohol and drugs is not a short period, but when he decided to try this rehabilitation center, just outside the City of Joy, I suppose he really meant to amend his habits and turn a new leaf. I could see that this young man was serious about his life, though many of them had been just wasted uselessly.

But not all is lost, and the young man wanted to change things and all that he wanted heartily was the support of the people who mattered to him. He had not been a good-for-nothing young lad, who only wanted to waste the hard earned money of his parents with bad company; he had good education, which had fetched him a government job as computer operator with Air India. Who could think of such a lucrative job, which he had to resign, when he could not manage his compulsive need to have drugs, and now he regrets for having resigned the job, and wonders if he would get the same job, after returning home sane and sober.

He was not the kind of young man who did not think about his parents; when he said that his cousins and nieces are engineers and computer experts, he was not even earning a decent salary. As the first child of his parents, he had greater responsibility towards his two other siblings, one brother and one sister, but with his alcoholism and drug-addiction, he could hardly think of looking after himself. What was so very interesting for me was the fact that he was able to recall to mind what had happened to him, and how he could make things new, if only he gets an opportunity to prove his self. But he was not sure if he would survive the full course of the rehabilitation package, which may last as much as six months.

The lady who had been behind the starting of the center, whom I had gone to meet, did not share with the kind of feelings this young man had poured out to me. She had seen him for a month, and she would know about him much more than me. It is possible that my feelings were rather soft towards him, but not for the lady, who almost chased him from me, when she saw that he was talking to me, before she entered her office. Then what she told me about him shocked me: that he was jumping over the wall to get drugs, and was quarrelsome. She even said that soon they would send him away, because according to her, no one was happy with him.

The young man had a lot of complaints about everything possible: food, accommodation, toilets, the lady director, the priest who is supposed to be counseling them, the program proper… He poured himself out, and I listened to him patiently, but without making much comments. One thing was clear for me, more than psychological therapy and medication to keep him free from the desire for alcohol or drugs, what the young man required more was compassion. I have heard stories where empathy and compassion could work miracles, which no human science can explain. I wish the lady and the priest counselor concentrated more on winning the hearts of these helpless victims of circumstances, rather than offering them something which cannot really change them. There is no greater weapon to change than love and compassion.

Letting Barking Dogs Bark

Often in life, it is easier to retrieve from the battle-front than to stand in the thick of fight and be overpowered. It is psychologically simpler to run away when the battle grows thick, and there are still chances of saving one's life, even if that means acknowledging one's cowardice and shame, than to face the deadly weapons scathing through one's body, while the soul remains unmoved. We are of course, not talking about battlefronts or brave warriors or consequences of losing one's battle. This is merely an allusion, which we all go through each day, and have a lot to teach us.

My friend is convinced that there is no point in fighting with other companions who were after her to put down, and show their superiority complex in all respects. So, when the others try to shout at her, she makes it a point to keep quiet and mind her own work. This has not stopped the problem, but had only aggravated it. If there are people who grumble that she was spending too much time in the computer room with internet, she would decide not to step into that room, lest they get another chance to talk about her. But the problem has not stopped there either.

In a battle front, one cannot be careless; every move should be calculated; but if one is too preoccupied by the moves and refuses to swing the sword to prevent the enemy coming past one, there may be nothing left to calculate. The iron has to be hit when it is still redhot, or else it is difficult to shape it. Avoidance may be one way of handling problems related to persons who are or think they are superior to others, but sure that does not solve the problems. Confrontation (care-frontation) is another way of doing it, though this may not work with people who do not bother to take one seriously.

We can learn a good lesson from stray dogs. These street dogs have a way of finding out who is brave and who is coward. There are persons who as soon as they hear a dog bark, start running away, and the dogs know that they are frightened and so have fun in chasing them. If someone were to stand and stare at the barking dogs, they would invariably soften their barking, and after a while even stop trying to frighten them. This is a reality, and if we try to run away from problems, the problems may start chasing us, until we are fully down; if we stand erect and face them, then we may realize there was no problem at all!

There is also another way of handling these people who are after our blood. To let them bark as much as they want. They cannot bark endlessly; when they find that no one is taking them seriously, they may grow tired and ultimately stop barking. Let people say whatever they want; I will continue to do what I am convinced is the right thing to do. I should be prepared to be challenged, and even face the brickbats; ultimately what matters is if I am ready to stand by what I am convinced of, even if that means giving ears to endless barking. But the barking will one day stop, and I then can breathe easy!

Charming Cheers and After

It is not strange that sometimes the most unexpected people could come in our way and make us smile. It is generally not possible for us to imagine that a hardcore drunkard could reach us safely, when we are helpless, and find it hard to find a way. That is what happened to my friend today, and while narrating this incident, all that she could do was have a hearty laughter. But there is nothing strange that a drunkard may be the right person, when we are caught in a tight corner, and find it hard to find a way; for one thing, the drunkards know exactly what they are up to, and maybe more normal under the influence of liquor than otherwise.

We should be extremely careful when we deal with drunkards, because they may not be as oblivious of what is happening around them as we might think them to be. There are many who feign after having a drink, and some others gain enormous amount of guts and courage after a peg or two. There are very few who can really forget the whole world and enter into a world of make-belief where they can realize all their dreams and aspirations. It would be cruel to pull them out of this state forcefully, by any violent means, though I understand what are the things that the drunkards are capable of when drunk.

A few days ago, a close friend of mine, did acknowledge that he committed a socially objectionable act, under the influence of alcohol, and said he should have been more careful not to drink to the point of not realizing what he was doing. That one moment had darkened his entire life, and he had to go through agonizing moments because of the few minutes when he forgot himself and what he was doing. But that is the story with many a drunkard; many begin to regret for ever giving in to alcohol, which had led them to endless troubles and misery. If we look around, we shall find many who would vouch for this.

We often think that those who are under the influence of alcohol are bound to falter in their steps; it is true with amateurs, but not with veterans. There are men and women, who even after half a dozen pegs of hard drink can walk unfalteringly, and speak as if they had not touched wine. In fact, these people enter into a higher level of consciousness, only when they are drunk, and when they are not drunk, they may appear to be in a stupor. A few months, I was sorry to meet my cousin, who was so addicted to wine, that without it, he was violent, abnormal; but as soon as he had a peg, he was calm and quiet, and was even able to joke.

Not all those who drink alcohol are drunkards; quite a many do drink on social gatherings and special occasions, while some others require it, as if it is their staple drink. I have become rather sympathetic towards who are either victims of alcohol or are unable to get out of the clutches of wine, which may slowly ruin their entire lives. But while we do not encourage drunkards to continue drinking, we take our hats off to the “good” drunkards, who can come to our aid daringly and willingly, and rescue us from the stalemate we might otherwise be languishing in. After all, the whole sky is not filled with dark clouds, we may come across a few stray immaculate white ones too.

Married to Martyrdom

I should admit that I am not very favorable to soldiers, the men and women in uniform, fighting to protect the nation from intruders and enemies. Not even because my father happens to be a former soldier, having served the nation for some 30 years as foot-soldier. I have not experienced anything which made me feel a sense of animosity towards these patriotic men, but I know deep within I am not in favor of this class of people. Does a country need soldiers, at all? Can’t we do away with soldiers, who are paid to protect the nation and the people, and who in turn are expected to pay back to the nation with their blood.

Today as I watched the Republic Day parade in Delhi, there was the awarding ceremony. The prime minister paid his tribute to the ‘amar jawan’ (immortal soldiers), by placing a wreath at India Gate memorial. The first citizen of the nation had awarded the brave soldiers with Ashoka Chakra medals, for their bravery. The soldiers who had died while protecting the national boundary, and fighting against insurgents and terrorists, are given great regard and respect by the nation. They are considered the nation’s pride, and we glory in them. But behind most of the soldiers, especially the foot-soldiers like my father, there is yet another self, which is often not talked about.

I have heard it from my father that he joined the Indian army, when he was barely 18, with education which was too little to join the army. He had to bribe the school authorities to give a certificate saying he had completed class 8, while in fact he had completed only class 5. The purpose? Not that he had great patriotic spirit, and a desire to give his life for the nation. No, not at all. He wanted a job, and it was easy to get into the army with such low academic qualification, and so he did. I had an opportunity to visit one of his camps, a few years prior to his retirement, and I was not pleased at the way he was treated by his superiors! But that is a different story.

Since my father was most often on duty, we were under the care of my mother, who had to take care of the five of us; she had to look after our education, farming, feasts and festivals. My father visited us twice a year, one annual leave and another casual leave, and often we would look forward to his coming, because we felt quite secure under his care, more than that of my mother. But one thing was for sure, we all missed the loving care of the father; it was only after his retirement that I came close to him. Being an introvert, I could hear my father pour out his real self, only under the influence of alcohol, and at other times, he was soft-spoken. I feel he too missed us all very much during his lonely battle with life in the army camps for so many years.

It is possible that we cannot altogether abolish army in a country, unless all the nations of the world decide to do so, and divert the money they would otherwise use to maintain the army, for developmental works, such as providing scholarship for rural education, job opportunities to the unemployed, research facilities on culture and religions, to name a few. But I feel sad when we hear the stories of army men living inhuman lives in the camps, and some of them even committing suicide due to loneliness and meaninglessness in the midst of adverse climatic and social conditions. Do we need to protect the land by spilling the blood of innocent men and women, and encourage it in the name of patriotism and bravery? We may have to look for alternative ways of protecting the nation, if at all there is a grave need, and not throw the lives of gullible men and women before the gun-point!

A Miser's Mite

A popular adage says, it is easier to wake up a sleeping person rather than the one who pretends to be asleep. The wake-up call for the Indian subcontinent was sounded sixty years ago, when the leaders of the nascent nation and all those who mattered in the political arena declared her to be a republic, ruled by the people. It is not easy to find how far the nation has truly become republic, taking into consideration the feelings and sentiments of all peoples; for a country like India, with hundreds of cultural traditions, languages, rites, rituals, customs and ethnicities, it is hardly possible to apply a uniform rule for them all.

The largest democracy in the world has much to offer to the world at large, and the world fraternity of nations sees a point in her unique position. It is difficult to find a country in the world, which has so diverse and unique cultural traditions and languages as India. In fact, it is proper to say that India is a federation of nations, just as the United States is. Each of India’s states could be larger in size and population than many of the European countries, and yet poverty, illiteracy, unemployment and underdevelopment plague the nation as a whole.

What has the nation achieved over the sixty years, since it was declared a republic? Has the country realized some of the great dreams and ideals that the freedom-fighters and countless martyrs envisaged in 1950? If the country has not achieved the basic level of satisfaction, what are the causes and what has been done to remedy the blocks and obstacles? There are more questions today than there are answers as one looks at this emerging super-power! No wonder, India had been basking on past glory, the ancient civilization, multiplicity of cultures and religions, and had not concentrated on some of the basic problems existing still today. After the independence in 1947, the nation had given birth to a class of people who made use of ignorance and illiteracy for their benefits, and unfortunately the nation is a pawn in their hands even today.

There have been so many Five-year plans declared and huge amount of money had been pumped to remedy the crying needs of the people. India has the resources, which can even feed the whole world, but a large amount of the Indian resources are locked up in banks outside the country, especially in Swiss banks, and in investments outside the country. We had known only one Mittal (a proud Kolkata Xaverian), who had pitched his tent in Luxembourg, to rule over the largest steel manufacturing unit in the world; but there are many who had been quietly going about in Europe, selling the nation to the highest bidders, in the name of bringing foreign investments and exchange. We may never come to know about them, but it is good for us to know that there is a big hole in our purse.

Abraham Lincoln is famed to have said, ask not what the country has done to you, ask what you have done to the country, and it is time that every literate and conscientious Indian ask himself/herself, what s/he has contributed to the growth of this republic! What we need today is not great leaders, who can show the way; we need public opinion, which can build bridges between the rural and the urban, between the literates and the illiterates, between the poor and the rich, between the haves and the have-nots. It does not cost a lot to become part of a nation-building; it is primarily a matter of attitude, which may lead to realistic action. If every Indian thinks at least on this day for the nation, what s/he has to offer to the nation, India can truly be proud to be a ‘great tradition’.

Subduing the Bull within

If I were to evaluate my performance as for as self-control is concerned, I would not be able to give more than 40 points out of one hundred! I understand that the points gained are rather low, which means in self-control, I am below average, and yet I might look quite in control over what is happening to me. It is difficult to assess how one is in control over one’s feelings and emotions, both positive and negative, because there are hardly any external criteria to evaluate a person; all the vital criteria are experienced interiorly. Therefore one might seem quite in control over one’s emotions, but in fact might be quite out of control regarding emotions.

Therapeutically several ways of approaches are suggested to achieve self-control, and one of the very ancient techniques is deep breathing. Often we breathe from the upper part of our chest, and seldom does the air go deep into our lungs, and come out. When we begin to breathe deeply, consciously taking the air inside, letting it rest inside the lungs for a second or two, and again consciously letting it out, we become aware of what is happening not only to our body, in our body, but also in the mind and the spirit. At that moment we become a third person, standing outside of our selves, and observing what is happening to our bodies, minds and spirits. This is a magic moment, when we are able to pick up many of the things which we would otherwise not be aware.

I am reminded of this anecdote which is told of in the context of the means of achieving self-control. Johny had been notorious in losing temper, and so his mother had taught him to take deep breath, close his eyes, and count slowly one to ten, whenever he would feel angry. So whenever he felt angry, he would close his eyes and start counting, and it was expected when he finished ten, he would be quite sober to take control over himself. But one day Johny returned home from school with a swollen face. When his mother asked what had happened, Johny said: You had told me to count one to ten, but Paul’s mother had taught him to count upto five, and so after completing five, he smashed my face and ran away!

That was only an anecdote, a joke, which should not be stretched beyond its length. But deep breathing can really help us get in touch with our inner self. Associated with this is meditation! Here by meditation I mean to imply, calming and quieting the mind. Eckhart Tolle would say in The Power of Now, that if we are able to overcome “thoughts”, then we are very close to the divine. The moments in between two thoughts is a sacred moment, and by placing ourselves as a third party, we may be able to stretch these moments, and meditation may help us achieve this. Like all disciplines, meditation will also need to be cultivated.

There is no quick solution to achieving self-control; one may have to undergo long hours of sadhana, discipline in order to bring an absolute unison between the body, the mind and the spirit. This has been one of the most often sought after salvation for many a rishis and munis. For the persons who had achieved perfect self-control can achieve anything they would wish. There is nothing impossible for them; even what is impossible becomes possible to them. It is possible that external reality has not changed much, but their minds have been moulded in such a way that they find it easy to accept whichever means takes them to perfect union of body, mind and spirit.

The 'Bull'-fight

If there is one thing that human beings are not able to fully control, it is himself/herself. The person who can control the satellites going along their orbits, often finds it hard to control himself. It is paradoxical that human beings are able to control almost everything on earth, but not themselves; and that is why human beings are capable of doing the most unexpected and most ridiculous kind of things. Besides human persons are the most unpredictable of all creatures. We often pride ourselves on the uniqueness of our creation, but looking at the entire scenario, we cannot call ourselves unique, but only abnormal and even psychotic.

Self-control is an art, everyone would agree, and not everyone is capable of mastering this serious and genuine art. Unfortunately very few schools teach this art form, and most often we are let alone to learn this art from life, out of trial and error. The ancient Indian schools, called Gurukula (literally clan of the master), had taught all arts, including this noble art, and that is the reason why most of the princes and kings who had gone through this system were able to rule with level-headedness. They were able to contain their entire self in the palm of their hands, and any amount of provocation and incitement could not make them lose their control.

Self-control is put to serious test under two vital circumstances, on the face of a deep-seated desire and at provocation on something related to one’s personality, character, morality and demeanor. When a person desires to have something dearly, unless there is a strong self-control, one is bound to lose the battle; give in to the desire, which may or may not bring dire consequences. I would like to think of a biblical example, so that I do not need to strip part of myself in illustrating this point. David had this desire to have Bathsheba, and when he is not able to control this desire for flesh, he plots to get rid of her husband Uriah. We know what happened to him then. But such a thing can also happen with things and positions, ambitions, craze for name and fame.

Most often we associate loss of self-control, when it comes to losing of temper; but it can be applied to any strong negative emotion or feeling. A uncontrollable jealousy may impel a person to kill his/her rival; a person who is not able to control one’s gluttony may die of over-eating, and so on. Thus self-control is a noble virtue, to bring to harmony between strong desires and emotions. But it is not that easy to arrive at self-control. Several rishis and munis had spent several years of tapasya, penance in order to learn the art of self-control, and still they would claim they are not able to subdue their body and mind to their spirit.

Is it possible to bring one’s body and mind under the control of one’s spirit? Will we be ever able to do what we desire from the core of our being? It is possible, and it should not take too much of one's years to master this art. But the stepping stone is to realize that one truly wishes and desires to bring the body and mind to a balanced state, where s/he would do only what is good for herself/himself and to the rest of humanity. Maybe one can start reciting this beautiful prayer for all universe : Sabka mangal (2)/Sabka mangal hoi re / Jan Jan mangal (2) / Jan Jan sukiya hoi re / Is darathi ke har ek prani / sabka mangal hoi re (2) / Tapo bhuvan ke sabi tapas / Sabka mangal hoi re (2) : The translation is : May all have well-being / May every human person / Have well-being and happiness / May every living creature / Of this earth have well-being / May all the rishis and munis / Have well-being.

Dance of the Peacock

Sometimes it is difficult to say the truth, especially when we know that the truth is sure to prick the conscience of the listener. There are many whose conscience are made of thick skin, and so they may not mind whatever people tell about them, and we shall leave them in peace and would not venture to disturb them for a while. We do not say that people of this sort can be left scot free, just because they are stiff-necked people who would not listen to any one, even if God the Father were to appear before them and ask them to change. We have to find some way of letting them know that they cannot decide for the whole world; at least once in a while, they have to be human.

Today is the golden jubilee of a few nuns, and I had been invited to attend the celebrations, which is comprised of the Eucharist presided over by the archbishop, felicitation to the jubilarians, a dance drama of Tagore and festive dinner. I could make out that it would take at least five hours to complete these programs, and I did not want to waste my time sitting there doing nothing. It is not that going to attend the program would be useless, but I thought if it would be worthwhile. It would have been an occasion for me to meet some of my friends, and I had known at least two of the jubilarians, who wanted me to attend the function. But one of the most important questions that I was asking myself is : should I go there to attend the function, just to please some?

Yesterday as I visited the place and told one of the friends there that I would not be going for today’s program, she told me I could not afford to miss the program. After a little while, one of the most famous jubilarian came to tell me that I should attend the celebrations, since I was partly involved with the preparations. When I told her that I would not, then she jokingly said they would not be able to forgive me if I miss the program and dinner, for which I retorted I would not require their forgiveness. Later on the hind sight, I thought I should not have been so blunt to the nun, but I found no other way of communicating to her what I hope to tell her one day.

I was told that some 600 to 700 persons would take part in the dinner today, and I was just imagining how much it would cost to feed all of them, and having known the way how these nuns host dinners, I am quite sure it would cost them a fortune. Theirs is a poor congregation with a very limited resources, and I was told that all the convents of the congregation would be required to contribute for the celebration. Some of the convents are too poor to contribute, and yet they would have no other option to dish out from their bare necessity for the dinner. I was asking myself if such a dinner should be organized at all?

Often such dinners and programs are organized to show off, and to exhibit to others how important they are. I would have readily agreed to join them for fifty golden years of service to God and people, if the celebration were organized in a small-scale with only some friends and acquintances. I know that my attending or not attending the celebrations is not going to change any of their programs; they all will go on as planned; but I would be able to share with them the real reasons for my not attending the program, if they wished to listen to me. I had seen the dance of peacocks, and do not require to see yet another one dancing!

Mutilating Music

The two-days college festival has raised the noise pollution in the vicinity to manifold, and the heap of dust which generally gathers on the furniture had doubled, due to the over-enthusiastic students, who were on the ad hoc noise competition, though no prize was given for this item. As one nears the college, it was obvious that one can listen to the numbers without getting close to the stage; one can easily make out the singer and the song from about 300 meters. But about 2000 odd students who had gathered at the grounds did not bother about the noise; they could still speak to their boy/girl friends over the mobile phones!

Who bothers about the noise and pollution? We all delight in making promises, declarations about how we would save the planet, but when it comes to annual functions, we let the students have what they want. I wish the college administration had the courage to tell the students that there is a decorum that needs to be observed in organizing college annual festivals. Western bands are the craze in all city colleges, though not too many of the students are used to listening English numbers, and there would be just about one third of the students who might enjoy such crazy-sounding, out-of-pitch, high sounding numbers.

In communication theories, noise is defined as unwanted, unpleasant sound, and that is what most of the modern singing turn out to be. It is the death of music in the name of voice modulation. Any abnormal and unusual noise is branded as creative expression, and higher the decibel of the noise created, the better it is esteemed. Maybe the so-called fusion artistes of the western tradition may have to listen for a second time some of the Indian classical music pieces, where one will observe that higher the pitch, the softer is the tonal quality, and even at the peak of one’s voice, the artiste would blend his voice with the instrument in such a way that there is perfect unison. That is the music which can reach directly into our hearts and arouse manifold feelings.

Kolkata has seen an alarming mushrooming of ‘bands’, Chandra Bindu, Lokhichara, Dheu, and the faster they appear, the quicker they disappear. Some of them survive because of one or two popular albums, and they imagine they have the artistic licence to do whatever they way, just because people had paid a price to purchase their albums, and they had done fairly well in the competitive market. But time will tell us that the people who know how to distinguish genuine soul-renting music from cheap, popular music, will one day throw these bands into oblivion, and bring back the traditional music forms. Then we shall hear again Tagore, Kazi Nazrul Islam, Atul Prasad, Ram Prasad, and we shall be elated to an altogether different realm.

Any attempt to bring dishonor to music is a dangerous attempt; the very people who may jump to the tune of some uncanny creative artist, may condemn the same music as noise. Human creativity can find different expressions to delve deep into the heart of all reality, and music can provide one familiar medium. If common people are deprived of this privilege to enter into another plane of reality through music, then music itself may transform its mode and reach the very people it is created for. Music can never be murdered, nor can it be mutilated. For no one can deny the music of one’s heart beat, one’s breathing, one’s flash of eyelids; for there is music in every being, both animate and inanimate, and those who can hear this music are truly heavenly beings!

Fighting with Fate

It came as a surprise for me! I could not think that her mother was a mentally challenged person, who died yesterday, and two of her siblings had inherited the mental disturbance of her mother. Only she and one of her brothers had been spared from severe mental breakdown. To make things worse, her father had deserted the family some twenty years ago, and had married another lady. The family had been adopted by Mother Teresa, and all the children had been brought up by her sisters ever since. It is a sad story and who would think that life would be so very cruel to her, even as she dreams of a life with classical dance.

She seems to have told a friend of mine that she would not like to perpetuate the generation with mental disabilities, and so would be happy to live alone. Wedded to an art is not something that is uncommon in art circles; some of the greatest artists and literati were single, and had left behind works which could be considered, if not called, their consorts. She is probably aware that she is aging faster than she would have thought; after setting foot at thirty, it is not easy for a woman to look back to have a married life; at least such a thing is next to impossibility in our country. But as her story slowly unfolds, I feel sad for her; how could God be so very cruel to punish her for no fault of hers?

Luckily there is a saving grace: her dance. At least there is an excuse for her to hide the real reason which haunts her: the stigma that she is forced to carry, that her mother was a mentally challenged person, and her siblings too carry the same "virus", and what is the guarantee that she has been fully spared? Is she to be condemned to the fate of the 'devadasis' of the South Indian temples, who carried on the classical dance tradition, bearing the brunt of being women who were dedicated to the Lord (but in fact used and abused by the priestly class!)? All the doors seem to be closed for her, even as she begins to put a brave face before all the people, who luckily cannot read her heart!

Probably it may be quite obvious from her dance; certain amount of stiffness, and seriousness, which hide her genuine beauty and gracefulness. As is the case, we cannot hide all that we wish; certain amount of our self is revealed even without our consciously knowing. There are several things in her heart which need to be poured out; the baggage she has been carrying for years may make her journey tedious and tiresome; she may be prone to frequent bouts of anger and temper, which are the expressions of the mounting tension deep within her. It may not be surprising that if she does not begin to handle herself, she too may find herself in her mother's place, and may be forced to let life take the upper hand.

Helplessness is not the word that describes her predicament; the calculated ways how life is denying her the simple and soft pleasures is more than any person can bear. But most often in life, we have no bargaining capacity with life; we have to accept what is offered. I am still hopeful that something good may come her way, if not immediately, but at least after a few months and years, when she might be able to laugh heartily, smile genuinely, and look at the golden rays of the morning sun and feel proud to be a human person to appreciate her beauty. Today I join the entire universe in wishing her that day come her way soon.

Daring to Dream

It is fun to talk to youngsters about 'dreams', and as I asked them if they dream, there were giggles and smiles. After all, who on earth does not dream? Every one has dreams, big or small, good or bad, and so my question might have been quite unwanted. But I had a point in asking them whether they dream, and what sort of dreams they have! I made it clear that the dreams that small children have about what they would receive from their parents and relatives is quite different from adolescents and adults would have, and that is the kind of dreams I was keen on delving deep into.

Needless to say, our dreams are shaped and moulded by the society we live in, the kind of people we associate with, and the kind of role-models we have around. One thing however is quite interesting to note: the children from the poor backgrounds often have bigger and more ambitious dreams, and it is not surprising that many of them do achieve a greater part of their dreams, by sheer will power and determination. Those who are well-to-do and rich, do not bother to dream big, and therefore they have stunted growth, and remain where their parents had left them.

I was surprised to hear one of the little girls tell me that she wanted to be an air-hostess! Where did she come across an air-hostess, who might have inspired her to become one? This ten-to-twelve year old girl had a dream which is out of the ordinary mould that girls of this hostel would generally dare to dream; it may be possible that this girl does not know what it is to become an air-hostess, but since her eyes are clearly fixed on this dream, I would not be surprised if she becomes one after some years.

I had made it clear that most often our dreams are self-centered; we become the center of our dreams, and may not include others, our family, friends and neighbors in the dreams. If the dreams are too narrow and self-centered, then the challenges and struggles we may have to face are far greater than the dreams which include our closest circle of dear ones, parents, siblings, friends and neighbors. When we share in the collective dream of a community, we are sure to receive the approval and support of the community, which are more important for the realization of the dreams.

There is one way how we can nourish and nurture our dreams: by helping others realize their own dreams, big or small, as the case may be. We all need the support of the other people in society to translate our dreams into a reality. No dream can be realized in a vaccuum; we require a concrete human society to realize it. A dream come true also imply the acceptance of the community, and we cannot take all the credit for finally arriving at the winning point, because every dream opens up multiple possibilities to go ahead in life to slowly enter into a world where there may not be much difference between dream and reality!

Monkey Business

These days we often hear about tigers, elephants and monkeys chasing people. Many have been killed by Sundarban tigers, who had dared to visit human habitats, rampaging and harming anyone they found on the way. The same has been true in Purulia, Midnapore and Bankura districts of West Bengal, where hordes of elephants would walk through paddy fields, villages, knocking down whatever they found. They sometimes were in hundreds, too impossible for the meager foresters, commissioned to chase them away. We are surprised that these animals, supposed to be kept at safe distance have at last come to threaten us, and many are really frightened of them.

In many villages and towns, monkeys have become a nuisance, chasing people, grabbing any eatable they may have, throwing stones at them, and at times indulging even in 'indecent' behavior. We do not need Charles Darwin to say that monkeys are our distant cousins; the affinity is rather close and we cannot take them casually. I remember some twenty years ago, as I was preparing to join the college studies, one of the famous Mathematicians Fr Franz Goreaux once told me that he had a monkey in his room, and I was quite curious to see it. He took me to his room, to the looking mirror and asked me to look at the mirror for the monkey. And lo and behold, I found one, very similar to me!

Jokes apart, but what makes these animals enter into our reserved zone, the restricted area? Common sense tells us that we have plundered their food, and the starving animals are out to seek food to fill their stomachs. Fortunately these animals are not as vengeful and greedy like the human race; they would fight tooth and nail to fill their stomachs, but once their stomachs are full, they would not touch even if the best of food appears before them. How I wish we human beings had learned this great lesson, of moderation in our needs. Even when these animals prawl in our courtyards, they do not think of the meal the next day. They are happy about what they had got for the day!

In fact, what is happening today, the animals chasing us from our habitats, is nothing new in history. All these years, we had tried to chase these animals from their habitat, in order to rob the little resources they had; we had emptied all their stock, and they are today left to survive on what we have robbed from their habitat. They do today exactly what we had been doing for decades and centuries, and we cannot stand before them and claim innocent. But one thing is for sure, the destruction they have done and continue to do in our villages is far marginal in comparison to what we have done to them.

Human race knows only to be on the defensive; I wish the people living close to forests and rivers gather together something for these animals, and place them in places where they are likely to look for food; it would be better to provide them what they look for, so that they do not go hunting for them. It is natural that when they do not get what they want dearly, they may not hesitate even to kill people. If only we take steps to provide them what they want, then they would be more than happy to remain indoors in the forests. But that means we have to sacrifice part of our booty and share it with them. The monkeys are beckoning us to share what we had looted from them; but if we refuse to, then they would force us to share with them, and the consequences may be splattered with blood.

Ways to Wisdom

The beginning of all wisdom, according to me, is the humility to learn from the last and the least, the friend and the foe, the rain and the shine, the good and the bad! On the one hand, when a person thinks that s/he has learned enough in life, that is the sign that s/he is gripped by the claws of pride, and that opens the floodgates of wisdom, if at all s/he has gained something from life, to let it flow in wastelands. Humility, on the other hand, is the gateway to all wisdom; one cannot bewitch to the goddess of wisdom and knowledge without first befriending humility. For, wisdom often resides in the most unexpected of places, and those who find her dwelling, find it easy to befriend her.

I have felt that some of the wisest men and women garner knowledge even as they fight a ferocious battle with death. I remember many years ago, a great mathematician and teacher, Father Goreaux going through Bengali primer, learning to read and write in Bengali, when he was on the verge of death bed. Someone would have asked him, what use it would be to learn a language when you know for sure, you would not have years to practice it! The utility is secondary; what matters first is to equip oneself with necessary knowledge to face situations, which may or may not require a set of knowledge. Truly wise men and women were ever ready to welcome wisdom in their midst at any time of their life’s journey.

As I venture into a new field or two, I find it necessary to learn the ‘tricks of the trade’. Sometimes there are no ready-made, handy guidebooks, like the hundreds of self-help books and guides you find on any topic imaginable. There is no better guide in life to learn something new than experience itself; however a friend or foe who has already gained knowledge would be in a much better place to open the gates of the new palace, to show which is where, so that I need not walk through all the corridors and rooms to find what is where. If I am ready to be rebuked and reprimanded in the process of gaining knowledge, then I know I am ready to take yet another lesson for life.

There was something mysterious in Christian Life Community (CLC in short) movement, which had attracted me, when I was attending a short course in the Holy City a year ago, and I am enthused to explore what I can learn from the many groups who practice the Ignatian spirituality, served in a way which is not only palatable, but also useful for their daily Christian living. There are young boys and girls, and there are adults, all of them translating the Ignatian vision into reality, through a spirituality which is so practical and pliable that all can feel the divine coming down from heaven to the earth. But ahead of me is the opportunity to learn from these men and women who had tasted God, and be enriched by their experiences.

I am prepared to learn from anyone who would be able to accept me as a disciple; I am also aware that at times my ego pops up and resists the lowly and the least sitting in the chairs of authority and teach me things I have not known in life. Sometimes these experiences may also make me realize how ignorant I am, and when I know what I do not know, then I will know that the doors of knowledge are wide open for me. This experiences are nothing less than spiritual experiences, where I can encounter God in the midst of His people, and I can be well on the way to bridge the gap between God and human beings; that is the role of every priest of God, to play the bridge between heaven and earth, and here is a golden opportunity I can jump and grab!

Unique Gift of Life

Maybe I will never be able to realize what D&R have gone through in life, and if only I know how each of their days pass by, I might be more empathetic towards them. Now what is this D&R? Dinesh and Reshma or Dravid and Rani, or David and Reena! Maybe these are some of the commonplace names, but behind these names are individuals who are "made for each other", but are left to grope in darkness with no child they can call their own. The number of childless couples is growing, and medical science is helpless to make them not only rear, but also bear a child! Pro-creation has always been one of the primary goals of Christian marriage, as we hear it from our catechism classes!

When the couple finds out that one of them is incapable of cooperating in the bearing of a child a few years after their marriage, all troubles start. The husband may blame the wife and the wife the husband; and the couple may blame the parents, and every other person they can think of! Unfortunately their problem of bearing a child does not end there. They try to undergo any kind of medical treatment, even the witches and the ojhas, with the hope that one day they would be the proud parents of a child. What happens when all of these costly attempts fail is what I dare not imagine.

I have seen so many couples who belong to this category; how nice it would be if the angel Gabriel visits all the houses of these couples and announce the birth of a child through unusual means, through divine intervention. Even angel Gabriel does not seem to like visiting our planet. But when their attempts fail, the bond of union that had kept them together all these days, begin to be brittle; men may indulge (if they are still young enough) in extra-marital affairs, alcoholism, smoking, bad company, and anything which can make them forget the harsh fact that he has no child of his own!

If men are able to give vent to their feelings and frustrations externally, women may do just the opposite. They may keep everything within their hearts, and may one day explode. Often such feelings may find expression in obesity, all sorts of diseases, gossipping, backbiting, suspicion and finding fault with the husband, jealous of their friends having cute little babes. The unhappiness of men and women often find some concrete expression, and it may be dangerous if these people are not able to find some sort of outlet for their emotions. Ideally the husband and wife should be able to find an outlet in their spouses, but when it fails, they should find adequate means.

We live in a world, where moneyed men and women are discovering newer formulae to manage life; some years ago, I have come across people who felt having a child was a nuisance, and so would love to be by themselves. The care of a third person, for whom they may have to give up all their comforts and pleasures, might appear too much for these kind of couples, and many of them decide not to have any children, even if they are physically fit to bear and rear a child. The gift of a child is a great gift; nothing on earth can equal this gift; but if someone is deliberately refusing to have this gift, then we can only assume that these persons do not know the value and worth of the gifts. Maybe they would realize what it means to have a child, when they feel old age fast catching up with them!

Looking through the Window

It is hard to pin-point what exactly has gone wrong with me today; the day began as usual; there was a more than usual share of office correspondence to be checked, and some official documents to be prepared, but beyond them all, there was nothing unusual,and yet I found something strange with me! There was a sense of restlessness deep within me and that made me show my anger at a friend who even after trying for four times on her mobile phone, continued to chat with her friend. I was annoyed and irritated, though I would not think she had done an heinous crime! But I do not really know what was responsible for this restlessness!

From the way I feel just now, I know somewhere something has been switched on, which could make my moods swing. It is possible that I had carried the uneasy feeling I felt as when I went to sleep last night; it was prompted by one of my friends, and she began the day speaking to me on a matter-of-fact tone, which really disturbed me. I might have disturbed her last night, and she was angry with me for that, and today she showed her indifference and anger through different ways. Maybe that is what has made me feel down all the day long. But I would be wrong to make her responsible for my feeling!

At least for today, I would like to own up my own feelings and mistakes, and am not going to look for any scapegoats! Often I find great pleasure in dumping my mistakes, blunders and weaknesses onto others, and claim innocence for me; the blame game is one of the first games we learn to play in our childhood days, and we are taught to play it well. But we are not children anymore (though many of us may behave so), and it is time we behave like adults. Until I own up myself as I am, I am building a big fat ego, which is like a bubble, that can be blown by a slight gust of wind! Then, why should I blow my trumpet, when I know for sure it will be submerged by mighty thunders?

If I can find so much of smoke all around me, is it not possible to find where all the smoke is coming from? I need to find the spark of fire, slowly and steadily eating up something which can be consumed. I sit quietly and venture to delve deep into the heart of my being, to the center of my body-mind-spirit complex! It is not an easy task to bring these three elements to a sync (short for syncronization). I look for the spark of fire at every nook and cranny of this complex, and I can find nothing which can be held responsible for the smoke. Maybe it is the smoke from the unresolved agenda of the past, but I am not prepared to pursue the past!

One question suddenly pops up in my mind: why should be down, whatever be the reason? Is there anything on earth, which can really make me sad? No one can make me sad, I alone can deliberately and willingly allow myself to be sad; in the same way, no one on earth can make me happy; I alone can decide to be happy, and no one can snatch it from me. It does not take much for me to cheer up - I can cheer up even without a mug of beer, or whiskey! All I need is to turn on the music CD that I love, and let myself be drowned by the music and melody, and at the end of the song, I would know there is a new current flowing over me, and I can look at the blue sky through the window, and smile!

Daring to be Different

I remember watching the hilarious 'My Fair Lady' for the first time; I was no better than Eliza, whom Mr Higgins turns into a well-groomed English lady! Eliza was expected to act and behave like all educated, genteel English, and not exhibit her raw intonations and pronounciations! Higgins in today's idiom would have expected Eliza to fall in line, or to get lost! His was a laborious task of bringing Eliza in perfect alignment with the rest of the crowd, whom he considered enjoying a social standing and appreciation, which was worth all the trouble! Today we would question the noble intentions of Higgins, and ask him, Why can't Eliza be as she is?

If there is one dinstinctive feature of God's creation, it is the variety. Is it not wonderful to realize that there are no two plants the same; no grasses are identical; no two human persons are ditto! Not even the so-called identical twins are not the same; they have their own distinctive features; not even the Siamese twins! This is what makes the universe so very wonderful. Remove the variety, then the world will soon lose its color and vitality! I would love to look at a flower garden, decked with dozens of varieties of flowers. It is a feast to the eyes and the senses. You also look at a garden with just one variety of flowers, however enchanting it may be; it may not be as captivating as the former!

Unfortunately the society recommends uniformity, because that is how it is easy to bring an order and discipline. Variety and differences bring a seeming confusion and chaos. Let me illustrate it with an example. In a family, if all the children eat chicken, it is easy for the mother to cook one dish; but if there are three children, one fond of chicken, one pork, and another mutton, what would be the plight of the poor mother; she cannot be cooking three dishes each day to satisfy the three children! That is why uniformity is considered a great virtue to impose discipline. But where there is uniformity, you cannot expect variety, color and a flowing dynamism.

It is so very easy to flow with the currents; to be like the rest is no big challenge. In a democratic society, most people do not raise their voice against injustice and corruption, and it is safe to be so. But if one dares to raise one's voice against the injustice, one is asking for trouble; it would not take much time for him/her to realize that his/her last hour has come. So, is it proper that we try to align ourselves in line with the rest of humanity? True happiness is not in this kind of passive alignment, but in active dynamism, which propels me to contribute my distinctive feature for the betterment of society. If I can add just one different color to the existing rainbow, the beauty of this array of colors is only enhanced.

But daring to be different has its own share of troubles and challenges. A fish which tries to swim against the current has to fight against the forceful current which keeps pushing her towards the sea. Moral determination and personal commitment are the pre-requisites for any venture that involves this daring. Criticism and branding are the usual consequences of daring to be different, criticism which can at times try to smother the fire that burns deep within, but if one is determined, no criticism can really put off the fire. The world today beckons humanity to open up her heart, to let the million hues and shades criss-cross the skies, and celebrate the wonderful array of colors, of being unique and different!

Dressed to Dazzle!

You look gorgeous! You look splendid! You are the most beautiful lady on earth! These are the common conversation-starters during dinners, parties, social gatherings! We, of course, know what people appreciate: not so much the people, but the clothes they have worn, the necklaces, bangles, ear-rings, or rings! What better way to win the attention of a lady than to flatter her on her clothes, choice of colors, ornaments, and men know very well how to make women float in the clouds! But that is not the whole truth: there are some who know how to present themselves as wholly as possible, without mixing the natural and the artificial! It is not an easy task; it might take several years before we understand the right proportion!

Dressing in general and for an occasion is an art, which very few people master; very seldom lessons are given on proper dressing, except if one is being initiated into the fashion world! But we often come across persons who would look beautiful with whatever they wear; at the sametime we also know people who would look clownish and misfit whatever they wear! We often hear people making comments that we have no taste for colors! I am proud to have a few of my friends who are aces in dressing themselves, and in dressing up others, so much so that they are often in much demand to dress up for special occasions.

The clothes we wear, and the ornaments we adorn ourselves with often have two functions : either to enhance the inner beauty of the person who is wearing it, or to kill the inner beauty and project the artificiality of the clothes and ornaments! The fashion industry is meant to research on the first function and help us realize the ways of enhancing our inner beauty, but reality is far from it. In any fashion parade (which is often dubbed passion parade), the natural grammers are reversed; instead of going along with nature, attempts are made to make a stark distinction between what is natural and the unnatural, which often goes in the name of creativity.

I have realized that the people who dress up best are the people from the villages, who have no sophisticated formula of dressing themselves. There are no special make-ups, and yet when we look at them, we know they are beautiful! The simple clothes and natural beauty present them as far more beautiful than the city-bred artificially decked beauty queens. Clothes and fabrics industry has become one of the most profitable and important business today; fashion designers are much in demand for anyone who is part of the who-is-who of the film industry and political arena.

Any well dressed person is a joy to the eyes of the people who would have a glance at them; the personality of the person is heightened immediately. No wonder people take extra care about their dressing before going for job interviews and examinations. But they may just forget that dress alone does not matter; how you dress is more important than what you wear. I for one, is a poor dresser, who does not pay sufficient attention to what I wear and how I do! I may have to take lessons from my friend, who would only be too delighted to offer me tips on how to dress (she often does, though I am quite used to not listening to her tips)! Maybe next time, I will listen to her tips and see if they make a difference!

Streams of Sympathy

It may be hard to believe, but I think sympathy is directly related to selfishness, and to a large extent self-centeredness. I have several examples to illustrate this point. When I am drawn to sympathy towards the urchin begging at the road-side, and I dolling out a five rupees coin, I am not so much giving him anything, rather than giving something to myself. I would have the psychological satisfaction that I was able to share (and it may never dawn to me that what I had done is far from sharing) the little I had! The truck-load of inner satisfaction is worth the five rupees coin! But that is where my sympathy stops!

My friend still feels that she was partially right in expressing her sympathy towards a friend of hers, by allowing him to pour out all his pain and agony to her! It is true that the gentleman needed someone to whom he could disclose his ins and outs, without being careful to edit out the more sensitive episodes, but I feel he was seeking something more than a patient pair of ears! Nor was he seeking mere sympathy, though his self-pity could have mady any one to be sympathetic towards him. It may not be easy for women to read through the thin lines of men, who project something, while meaning something else! That was what I was cautioning my friend to be careful about!

But there is something else about sympathy. I was asking myself, is there any place for sympathy between friends? Where does sympathy really fit in? Friendship, by its very definition, is a relationship which is established based on mutual trust. If there is already trust between two persons, then how can sympathy pop up? Will a friend seek sympathy from his/her friend? We approach friends, only because we trust that person would get into our shoes, and feel with us. Probably even the word 'empathy' may not adequately express what happens between two good, genuine friends. But it is far from self-centered sympathy!

There is yet another angle to the entire story: the young man expected something which my friend refused to offer, and the man was greatly offended and even hurt! A person who wished to pour out his soul to a confidante generally would not expect anything more than unburdening of oneself; what would put a period to his long winding stories could be a sigh of relief that he was able to "throw off" all that had been causing his psychological indigestion! If a person comes with a calculated agenda, and looks for it, and even taking the liberty to demand it, on the basis of friendship, can such a relationship be trusted (however long it had taken to groom it!)?

I am careful if I feel sympathetic towards someone; the chances of making use of those who are in a vulnerable position are heightened, if my psychological need to satisfy my ego is equally blown. It is possible, when we relate to persons, we really do not think about all these, the notions of self-centeredness and sympathy, satisfying the ego, etc. But we will be able to trace the path and find on hind sight that we were not as holy as we thought to be. Ultimately it is not to blame anyone, but to see each one as one really is, without labels and attributes. I have realized that signs of 'sympathy' can switch on the danger light in me, and I am cautioned to go beyond it, towards entering into another's shoes by empathising, and at the same time careful not to breach friendship!