Spying Sherlock Homes

There are many in our society, who would defeat even Sherlock Homes in spying, and in attempting to resolve the mysterious riddles. Spying on innocent men and women, tapping their phones, and reading others mails are some of their trade secrets, and it is hard to stop them from doing it, either in public places or in their private circles. It is sickening if they try to do it when they are living with others. Where there are parallel phone connections, as soon as the phone rings, they would rush to the other set, and wait for the person concerned to start talking, and they would quietly pick up the other set and eavesdrop all the person speaks, so much so they do not feel even a qualm of consciousness to do such a dirty job.

I have come across quite a few people who enjoyed doing it, though a good part of these people belonged to the fairer sex, though I would not overrule the other sex as well. What is at the root of this kind of attitude which impels them to spy on others is more than obvious: it could be looked at on two levels, one is that they would like to know the ins and outs of other persons, so that they would be in a better place to blackmail them and therefore force them to do what they want; the second reason is that they have certain emotional needs and wants, which they wish to fulfil through passive pleasure. This is in straight forward language a perversion, and they take pleasure in such a perverse thing, and there is none to question them.

Unfortunately the people who do such a thing are those who have not received the kind of love and attention that the younger people receive these days, and they are all full of jealousy, and cannot tolerate this happening. But if someone were to confront them and ask why they pick up the phone when another person is talking, their answer would be more than innocent: oh, I wanted to make a phone call, and so was checking if the phone is free! Everyone knows that this is just an excuse for them to continue with their eavesdropping. But it is another matter, if someone else were to do the same when they are on the phone.

Phone tapping had been a big issue on the national level some months ago, and it had been said that it was undertaken by officials under the direction of the Ministry of Home Affairs, but when ordinary men and women spy on their brothers and sisters, what pleasure do they get. When children become unruly and disobedient, some of the parents do spy their children, to catch them red-handed with something they can accuse their ward of. But in such cases, spying is done with all good intentions, and sometimes it does good to the children too, but not in the case of adults, where it can only create bad taste in the heart of the members involved. This is a reality many struggle with silently, and there may not be a solution in the near future.

Every information that I share with another person is purely private and no other person has the right to eavesdrop; such a person can be taken to task, but we do not do this, because we do not want to create problem unnecessarily. When younger persons are victims of such vile tactics of some senior persons, the juniors are helpless victims, who cannot do anything to stop such a menace. Life has to go on, and they most often tolerate such senior persons, though the juniors have all the right to pull up the senior and teach them a lesson. In a respectable society, such a thing may not happen, but there may come a time, when such senior persons may be confronted squarely, and then people may relate to one another freely and without fear.

Cheer Leaders!

How wonderful would it be if we have a few dozens of “cheer leaders” in every locality! I am not talking about the professional cheerleaders at every sports stadium, whose duty it is to cheer up competing teams. We do not need such professional cheer leaders, often with limited fittings, so that they can cheer up the audience and the teams, not only by what they do, but also by what they are. But we need cheer leaders in every locality to cheer up every person living in there; we need others to cheer us up, and help us to realize that beyond our personal pain and agony is there a world of joy and happiness, of human communion; that we are all united by the bond of pain and sorrow, happiness and ecstasy.

Maybe it is not possible to have a group of cheer leaders who would go from house to house, spreading cheer in every person they come across. They could help people forget their worries and privation, and help them to smile for a while, make them laugh at something stupid, give them the comfort that they are not alone in their suffering. I feel the world is badly in need of cheer leaders, and I would not be surprised in a few years some people invent a system of artificial cheering up persons and families, and make a thriving business out of it. After all, with the way the world is expanding, there are all the chances that we would need artificial means of cheering us up.

I was told about a very old woman, in her late eighties, in Germany, who would sit at the entrance of the railway station of this small town, and would wish everyone who entered in there. In her old age, she had nothing to offer to the many people who entered there to catch a train to go to their offices, or to their relatives, and all of them entered in there with their load of worries, pain and anxieties. And this senior lady would greet them with a smile, and for a moment the people would forget their worries and wish her the same. This was her mission at the fag end of her journey. But I found this is a wonderful way to spend the last years of one’s journey.

How beautiful it would it would be if all those who are posted at the entrance of corporate houses were trained in the art of cheering up people, so that everyone who entered there would be charged by their cheer and smile; our offices and working places would be more joyful then. What we need today are men and women who feel certain joy deep down their hearts, and would like to transmit to other people, especially those who do not know what joy and happiness in life are. We need such people to occupy our security system. Technology is so advanced that in many places we can manage without security personnel, but no machine or technology can really replace genuine and true cheer leaders.

I have known about a few such cheer leaders, who would take time to voluntarily visit those persons languishing in sick beds, or in old age homes, or in self-imposed exile, in order to spend a few minutes with them; and what a difference their few minutes of stay with them could make. People can change their perspectives and pains within a few minutes, and look at life positively, thanks to the magic that these cheer leaders can make. But these people are those who experience deep down certain joy, and they cannot contain this within themselves, and therefore feel the urge to reach out to others. I wish their spirit spreads all over, and fill all our localities with the cheer that can make us laugh and smile, and take life with a courageous smile.

Metamorphosis of Nemesis

I know it is so easy for some people to say “sorry”, just as it is for me. For some people, it is very difficult, especially if they are diffident. I am beginning to understand that all those who say sorry need not be fully sorry for what had happened, and therefore are willing to take responsibility for them, and all those who are diffident need not be arrogant and so are unwilling to own up what had happened. It is possible that I say sorry so many times, and yet deep down am unrepentant, and still try to justify what I had done, and how I continue to be innocent. There is also another parallel tendency in me to make other people feel sorry for making me feel sorry.

There used to be times when I would be diffident and would not say sorry to people, until I read it somewhere those three beautiful words which can make a difference in my life : please, sorry, and thank you, and I began to use these as lavishly as possible. But it is time for me to pause and reflect if these words are losing their core meaning, and I am just taking them for granted. When I say please, do I really have the mental disposition to submit myself to the giver, or is it just a word of politeness? The same thing with the word, Thank you! I need to ask myself if I am truly grateful to the one who has favoured me and has shown graciousness to me!

But I realize that during those younger days when I used to be extremely allergic to using these three little words, I used to maintain certain amount of dignity. I always thought that I should not easily give scope to using these words. I should not be at the mercy of others, but should claim what is due dispassionately; not to do something for which I would regret and so have to ask the pardon from others, and to accept what is rightfully mine, and not to accept any favours which may come with a hook. But I have grown over this kind of understanding, and today I think of these in a different light. I do not hesitate to ask for favours, and recognize my own limitations, and be thankful to the people who show tremendous understanding towards me.

As I pour out myself at this moment, I think of a dark cave, where I am trying to enter in stealthily; I cannot see what is on the floor, the moss, slippery ground with water flowing all the time, stone chips which may pork into my sole, and I may just hit my head on the wall. Groping in the dark is a new experience, because it is then that I feel how helpless I am before certain kind of reality. But if I have another person who is used to this cave, and were to hold me by the hand and lead me through, how comfortable it can be. If I find him next to me, could I not plead for his help, and be grateful to him for the favour he would have done me? And is it not reasonable to ask his pardon if I had not followed his footsteps, or directions?

Whole life is not enough for us to learn, learn new tricks! It is said that old persons learn new tricks rather slowly, but I am quite vary of this kind of assumptions. There are certain persons who keep learning new tricks, not only in life, but also in their personal lives, and that is a great consolation for me. It is never too late to learn from life, and every time I realize a possibility of learning and incorporating it into my personal life, I feel that I am growing as a person, as an individual, as a responsible citizen of the universe. The world is changing at a rapid speed, and we too are called to keep pace to it, and experience that change within us, and around us.

Penny wise, Pound foolish

This senior man was known as an austere man, who would spend hours on end in order to save a few pennies, and would glory in it. He would walk for more than an hour, and would not take public transport, because he had to pay for the travel, and ultimately come back home exhausted. He has a very strict sense of poverty (as a religious man who has vowed poverty, this is very much fitting), and would swear by it. If one were to look at his shoes, it would be worse than that of a beggar, and he has only one pair of dress, which he would wash at night and wear it during the day. Well, that is his style of practising poverty, and no one can really argue with him about it.

It is true, he is fully convinced of what he does, and if it is his personal conviction, no one has the right to question him about it. But what I am concerned about is, not about his personal conviction, but about how his personal conviction comes in conflict with the interests of others living with him. I have realized that it is not easy to live with people who have strong personal convictions; it is rightly said that it is hell to live with saints! But the saving grace is that this gentleman would not demand the same standard from others, leave alone impose it on others. At the same time, he would not like to be questioned about his standards.

He had been coming to our office for three days to complete his annual ritual – entering the marks of a subject he was teaching in the college. This is the moral education, and it is doubtful if any of the students took his classes seriously, but he takes the examinations and marks so seriously that he would spend more time tabulating than in correcting them. He would tabulate them in MS Excel and then would check it, double check the marks, so that there is no error, and then would go one by one marking all those who had failed in Red. Then he would need to take a print out of this for the file. I had been asking him if it is all worth the trouble, and he would want it that way, and no one can argue with him about it.

It was said that this gentleman had one of the finest brains in the campus, but after his completion of the doctorate in physics, he began to teach in the college, but it was found that what he taught went over the heads of students and so he had to be stopped. In the meantime he took up certain topics as his areas of interest, which in the long run, became his obsession, and he would fight with people tooth and nail in order to show that everyone who did not subscribe to his views were wrong and that only he could give answer to some of the moral and religious problems which haunted the human society.

I have no regrets about the man, because there is a fair amount of genuineness in him; he is excessively obsessed with poverty, and it would be a futile effort to argue with him about the notion that poverty does not tantamount to privation and even beggary. We need certain essential things in order to live a decent and dignified life; if one thinks that these things are redundant, and would not like to avail them, then the person is sure to place himself on a separate ground, morally condemning everyone for not following his own standards and precepts. I would not dare to call his way of doing things as ‘penny wise and pound foolish’, but it would be very close to it. If only he could put to good use his wisdom, then he would be richer than the richest. But it may take him another birth to look at the other side of the spectrum.

Ma(i)nly Mechanical

Who does not want a little easy-going? We all of us desire comfort, be it in a bus or a train, or even in a saloon. Quite often we so accustomed to comfort that even the slightest of discomfort becomes hell, and we begin to make a hue and cry about it. One should see the plight of those who are used to air-conditioners, when the electricity fails, and to add incense to injury, if the generator too fails. They might be driven to take multiple showers to bear the humidity and heat, and they may curse every person on earth for the curse they had thrown on them. But if we have to look at a person who does not even have an electric fan, life is as cool as ever; he does not even realize that there was an electricity failure.

If a choice is given between a comfortable job and a challenging job, less than one out of a hundred might choose the challenging job; invariably everyone would go for the easy and comfortable one. No one wants hardship in life, they all want readymade solutions for all the problems of humanity. That is why there are service providers for everything imaginable, from tourism to catering, event management to travel agents, religious ceremonies to private parties. People would do everything one wants, if only one has enough money to pay for the services. Money can get anything one wants, and everything is offered on a platter.

Our lives have become so very easy going that we cannot think of putting up with a minimum amount of inconvenience. We had used in our younger days, pencils which had lead inside, and we had to sharpen the pencil using either a shaving blade (and my father offered on turns to our siblings), or those who could afford pencil sharpeners. In those days the sharpeners were already a luxury, and very few could afford it, and naturally we could not buy them. But now we live in an age, where one does not need to sharpen pencils, and all they need to do is to insert the ready-made lead in, press it, and use it. We don’t need blades or sharpeners, and no wasting time sharpening the pencils. Purchase the lead and use it as and when you need.

There was certain joy and thrill in sharpening the pencils, when the pencils are new, and we would inhale the smell of the fresh soft wood, and may get annoyed when the lead broke, and we had to make another try. We did not complain then that we had to go through the hard process of sharpening them. Quite often I had better sharpeners and bad pencils, and so the pencil lead would break each time I was on the verge of getting the pencil sharp. And suddenly the lead would snap, and I had to do it all over again. Though it was a bit annoying, we did not hate it, and even now I do the sharpening pencils all by myself, and am happy to do it, instead of rushing to get the readymade “mechanical pencils”.

One reason why most of our lives become so very mechanical is because we are used to too many mechanical objects. We love to have short-cuts in as many instances as possible, and do not wish to take a little long routes which may give us the joy and satisfaction of running the full course. I used to enjoy doing my initial writings – poems, short stories – on a paper, before I would type them out on a manual typewriter. But nowadays I do not do much writing using pen; I prefer to sit in front of the laptop or computer and try to do the writing directly. It is for this reason a few days ago, I had pulled up my writing pad, and had begun to write on paper. I hope to complete the long article on paper, before I would type it on computer. There is a special joy in doing it through the hard and tough way, and the trouble is worth it!

Pants-Down Syndrome

The youth of the cities across the globe are struck by what I would like to call as “pants-down syndrome”. The young boys, especially the school and college going students, take pleasure in pulling down their pants, as the latest fad in the fashion world. It is sickening to see boys easily falling prey to this kind of subversive and ugly trends, without ever thinking if that makes them better human beings. To follow the current seems to be in vogue in today’s world, and those who do not fall in line with the trends are looked at suspiciously, and are even branded as traditionalists and conformists. These people are considered archaic and old-fashioned, who do not know how to appreciate the modern trends.

To flow with the current of the world seems to be the norm today, and everyone is so convinced of this that they would not dare to go away from the set norms of the society. Every fad and fashion which takes place in the United States of America or in the Europe seems to be catching the attention of the Indian youth, as much as other youth of different other growing nations. The implications which these have on the social and cultural lives of the people at large are not considered, and slowly these fads are sure to affect the native cultural fabric in some way or the other. But why would the youth bother about how their changing trends affect the native culture?

We are too quick to change things, which have been sustaining us for centuries and decades; we feel that variety is the spice of life, but we would love to swallow only the spice and may not like to have anything staple for sustenance. Many of the societies which are pioneers in ushering changes in society do it slowly and steadily, and they do not propose changes overnight, but study the present scenario of the socio-cultural setup and gradually infuse change. But that is not the case with our youth; anything they see on the television or on cinema, has to become their norm too.

Unfortunately our young people do not thinks sufficiently why they have to follow the fads and fashion started by somebody in the States or in the Europe. Blind following had been one of the greatest enemies of development in our country. We had an era, when the ordinary people deified the film actors and actresses, so much so some of the actresses had temple dedicated to their name. Cult worship is still strong in the country, and the fads and fashions often strengthen the fabrics of cult worship, which can later manipulated in order to win political mileage. But it is too complicated for the young people to consider all these angles before they plunge into a new style.

Dignity is something very personal to each one, and if there are attempts to waterdown the personal honor and dignity, they should be resisted by society; unfortunately that does not happen with the pants-down syndrome. Imagine parents allowing their children to follow this sort of meaningless and ugly fads, and if there are parents who take time to explain to them on the dangers of following this sort of fads, then probably many will think twice before borrowing anything blindly. However there is one big consolation, this fad is not going to stay for ever and ever; it is sure to disappear into thin air as quickly as it entered the cultural arena.

Through the Rough Weather

At one moment of the interview, I myself felt embarassed for asking the boy something so very touchy, that he was almost in tears. From his early childhood he had lived with his mother, after his father divorced his mother and began to live with his elder brother. He had never met his brother nor his father, until one day in the school library he happened to meet his brother, but did not know that he was his own elder brother. After putting together what he had heard from his mother, he knew that he was his own brother, now living with his father. He had the guts to tell his brother that they were related by blood.

But what he shared after this piece of information was chilling for me. His elder brother had invited him to the house where the former lived with his father. When his father asked his elder brother, who he was, it seems his elder brother told him that he was his friend. Even now, his father does not know anything about him. He lost his mother about ten years ago, and had been living at the mercy of some priests who had adopted him, and brought him up. I felt very sad for the man, whose eyes watered as he narrated bits and pieces of his life story. Even my seeming innocent questions looked very strange to him, and he struggled to answer me.

He is a fine young man, who had a lots of will power to fight against all odds to go ahead with life; he said he had taken special interest in psychology, not so much to help others, but to know about his own background, the psychological limitations he had grown with and how he could find some sort of remedy for them. This is something beautiful in him – the strong determination with which he pursued his studies and completed his undergraduation with first class, and thought of something greater for humanity, a life of commitment and dedication to the service of the wider society. I know he has many other riddles to unravel as he moves forward in life.

If I were in his situation, I wonder if I would have reached as much as he had done; embittered with life, many people attempt to find short cuts to remedy the agonizing situations; it is easy to give up hope in these situations, and luckily there had been some good-hearted priests who had helped him to recover from the loss of his only hope, his mother, who died of cancer at a time when he needed her the most. His lift support had been removed, and he would have felt that he was a lone boat in the midst of the endless sea, unable to find a way. Thank God, now he seems to be aware of where he wants to go, and how he wants to organize his life.

If there is one reason why many of the youth these days are disoriented early in life, it is because they have not seen the hardships of life, and they do not know what it means to find their own way. The families these days do not want the children to get into the waters, because they are afraid that their children might get drowned, and as a result most of them never learn swimming, and when they have to get into waters, it is too late for them to learn swimming, and that is when the fatal accidents might take place. I am happy that this young man has learned swimming through the hard way, and now he is prepared to teach other young men how to swim. And he knows he would be able to teach them better than others, because he knows the nittygritties of this new art.

Sweet Silence!

It is only the youngsters who know how hard it is to keep quiet; almost all the students in a school at some time or other get whacked for making noise, or talking to someone else. This has been accepted as one of the symptoms of growth process, and we do not make much noise about it either. But this symptom continues well beyond their adolescence, and runs sometimes even upto their old age. The noise which keeps them busy in their adolescence slowly transforms itself into an inner noise.Most of us reach our graves making huge noise, and very seldom may we recognize that we are a noisy lot.

We love noise, and that is the reason why noise pollution is not a problem for us; it appears that it is the problem only of the neighbors and civic bodies and not we who live in the midst of high decibels. There are people who cannot sleep unless there is some loud noise. I had the good fortune of living in a room just adjuscent to one of the main streets of the city, and every day early in the morning I can hear the rattling noise of the trams and then the vehicles, but after a few months of stay there in that room, I had so got used to the noise that it would not disturb my peaceful sleep. We all of us get used to the noises and that becomes our way of life.

One of the greatest tragedies of human existence is that most of us do not even know that we live in the midst of noise, and we do not taste the beauty and wonder of silence. We think that there is nothing beyond noise, and that it was the end of all. We are born into a noisy world and we are given grand farewell with so much of noise. All that we know is the silence of the graves, but not that of the deep oceans. I am told that there is absolute stillness at the deep waters of the ocean. Maybe we will never feel what it means to be in stillness, and that is why we so much love noise and feel we cannot part with it. The very moment when we are separated from noise, we feel certain amount of emptyness creeping in, and we are afraid of facing the vacuum.

I understand it is a terrible experience to face stillness and silence. I would be too frightened to be left in a room, all by myself, with silence all around. I may be more comfortable with even eerie noise, but not silence, which may be more frightening and threatening. But if only I begin to enjoy silence and the stillness of silence, then it may open up several sweet vistas for me. But to take a bold step to drown myself in stillness, calls for great guts and courage, and unfortunately not many of us have that much guts. If ever we had that courage to face silence, we might be madly in love with silence, which can give a foretaste of the blissful sweetness of stillness.

I know that if I have to take a close look at silence and taste of the stillness of the heart, I have to cross two layers of noise: one, the bodily noise, the physical one, and two, the mental noise, one which is created and maintained by the mind. If I can cross these two boundaries, then I might have access to true silence. One of the greatest consolations is that I am never alone in life's journey; there are people wherever I go, and there are very few chances for me to really fall out of track. I am still looking for the way to reach stillness of the heart, where alone I can drink the sweet nector of the soul.

Noisy Silent Zone

Perhaps the place which is notorious for being the most noisy place on earth is very close to each one of us, and we may not even be aware that we are so easily getting used to this horrendous noise. The noise of course does not hurt us, because we have got used to it, and have even begun to like it. It is the noise of the inner self. Very seldom does this “chatter box” pause during our existence. The only exceptions are the following : children who have not reached the stage of self-realization, people who have no control over what they think and do, the so-called crazy people, the senior citizens who return to their second childhood and forget to listen to the noise.

During the life time, it is impossible for us to really escape from it; even if we do not want it to haunt us, it would still be there around. The noise of the mind is perhaps the most dangerous noise which can hurt not only our bodies, but also our spirits. It can dampen and discourage our spirits, and ultimately we may be turned into mere machines. Very few people on earth really care to take note of this noise, which is fully active even when we are asleep. The greatest of people are those who are able to control these noises, and through them and with them are able to enter into the inner silence of the heart, and that may be the moment of enlightenment.

All of us are easily lost in the noise, and the noises often take advantage of our situation and make us weak and vulnerable. The mind knows our Achilles’ heal, and it strikes just there, and in order to escape from its attack, one needs to go through a sadhana, studying the noisy zone, how it cripples the human spirit, what its real function is, and how one can flee from the crippling effects of the noisy silent zone. Far beyond this noisy zone is the still waters of silence, and anyone who drinks of this waters can hear the sweet melody of the stream, the passing of a gust of wind, and be lost in its wondrous medley of choruses.

Many spiritual gurus and enlightened masters have given us simple ways how we could peer through the noisy zone, and get a peek at the silence zone. Anyone who has tasted even a moment of silence, far beyond the noisy rattles of the mind, would venture to do anything in order to enter into a full communion with silence. We live in a world, where living with noise is considered a perfect way of life. Party floors blast noise, which is often dubbed as music, the person who can make the noisiest sound is considered a master craftsman. Has the world ever produced any master who has tried to make music out of silence?

Now let me come to the point… In the previous blog I had complained that I am not able to listen to others, not only to their words, but also to their pain and suffering, agony and anguish because my ears are stuffed with noises of all sorts, and I can hardly hear them, leave alone listen to them with attention. I wish to listen to them with all my heart, and that would be possible only when I am able to listen to the silent music of my heart; I might like to dance to the music, and invite the whole world to dance with me in the cosmic dance of the gods and goddesses. Then even the whimper of my brother or sister would arouse my feelings and sentiments. I would be so attuned to every movement of the hearts of others, that I would be able to enter into their hearts easily.

How to name it?

Often I hear a complaint that I don’t know how to talk, but very seldom does anyone tell me how I should talk; I have taken for granted that I know how to respond to people, especially when their temper runs high, or when their spirits are low, or when they find it hard to contain themselves, but of late I have heard the complaint that I really don’t know how to talk. Unfortunately often in life we depend on words to express our innermost feelings and sentiments, and this is all the more true if we are to use external media to convey our feelings. Often when talking over telephone, I become so insensitive to the feelings of others that I leave them more pained and hurt than before.

It is possible I have learned the art of meaningful responding, or that I have learnt it all wrong, and it may be hard for me to learn everything from the scratch. I don’t know if this old horse can learn new tricks, but I am ready to give it a try. The problem now is, who will bell the cat. My friends all these years have taken for granted not to hurt me by telling me how I should respond to people when they are in pain, and how my words at those moments were hurting them. It is not that I am entirely blind to the pain my friends go through, but I find helpless to find a way of consoling them. Anything I tell them sound as if I am indifferent to their pain.

When I am hurt by the words of my friends, I do not hesitate to tell them to think twice before they tell something to me, and I may have to take the same advice for myself and put it into practice. At a couple of times, I have tried to practice it, and realized that if I think seriously before speaking, I do not get proper words, and recently one of my friends suggested that if I do not get proper words, it would be better to keep mum, instead of saying something which may only add fuel to the fire. I realize that one of the most dangerous words that I have been using rather casually, not only with my friends, but with all, is “OK”; the irony of my usage is that I use the word OK, even when things are not OK.

Sadly it had taken several years for me to come to this realization, that a so-called innocent word can infuse so much of pain and suffering in others. The expression in itself is harmless and innocuous, but when I began to use it out of context, it had become a dangerous one. It would take me quite a while to find a less dangerous expression to replace OK. If I were to watch carefully how others respond to my pouring out, my sharing and exchange, I would find more meaningful and helpful words and expressions. This brings me to yet another broader area of my interaction with people around. Do I listen sufficiently to others? Especially if they are pouring out their pain and agony to me?

There is yet another important area I need to spend time on; I am so preoccupied with my own feelings and sentiments that I do not pay attention to what others wish to convey to me, or what they want me to take note of. Due to this lack of listening to others, I fail to respond to them positively; though I hear their words, they do not enter into my inner self, and remains only at the level of my head. If only I begin to listen with my heart, then probably I would be in a better position to respond to them meaningfully, without uttering the meaningless OK for each and every sentence of theirs and thus annoy them more and more. But there is something I have to do, in order to listen meaningfully to what others communicate to me.

Needless Network

He was known among familiar circles as a champion of the underdog; if there was one person who dared to speak in support of the domestic support staff and the casual laborers, it is undoubtedly he. However he had a soft spot for two of the families, with whom he had an intimate relationship; the little girl he had seen some years ago, is today a young lady, and the fondness he had for her when she was seven or eight years old, continues to draw him close to her, to support her, be affectionate to her, and this unholy alliance had caused him more than enough trouble for him, and yet he would plough through all of these, and continue to express his allegiance to this family.

In terms of the social status, this family could boast about nothing; the two children, the elder girl and the younger boy, together with their parents formed the happy family. But my friend became the voice of the voiceless family when they were in trouble, and had to fight their way through with the management. Though he was part of the management, and yet he dared to distance himself from the authority and stood at the other side to support them. This betrayal had been frowned upon on several occasions by all the persons concerned, but he was adamant not to give in to the pressure from his peers to forsake the family and show his allegiance to the management.

What had been the cause of his unusual affection to the girl, and through her to the family? It is not easy to answer this question. He should be close to 50, and she should be about 20. Surely it is not a love relationship; one said that the relationship was that of a parent and a child, but such a relationship generally bloom in the midst of orphans, who look for their father or mother figure in others. But when her parents are both hale and hearty, what was she looking for in him? Or to look at the other side of the spectrum, what was he looking for in this girl, apart from her affectionate words, beautiful look? It might remain a mystery all the days to come, and yet it is a reality many are aware of.

One thing was sure, he would not dare to neglect his responsibility and duty in order to express his fondness to the girl, or his support to the family. His precious personal time had been often given to them, and he was happy about it, even when he had been pointed out that he refused to be in company with his peers and friends, who formed part of his family. In his own way, he was adamant and obstinate, and no one could really make him understand that he had to let the girl’s family steer their lives, independent of his support and assistance. It was a needless support that he rendered to the family, many were sure of, and yet he would not bite their arguments.

What would happen when he is shifted from this place, I was asking one of his very close associates, and he had no answer. His contact and affection for the girl and love for the family will have to come to a close at some time or other; he cannot afford to support them endlessly. It might happen very soon, and he may be left to wonder how he could support them. The family which had been milking his support, without realizing that he had been jeopardizing his own relationship with other members of his peer group, may have to realize that they may have to stand on their own feet without feeling the need of his support. It is only when both the parties realize the need to distance themselves from the other party, that real growth can take place in both of them.

Swing of the Pendulum

In less than 24 hours, the pendulum had swung from one end to the other; it was quite surprising for me to listen to the very people who had found more than half a dozen unholy tendencies, today ventured to assure me with more than that many virtues. Were they consciously trying to undo the damage they had collectively done to my personality? The swift was too sudden, and I struggled to understand how these men, all of them so mature and aged, could do this? When all is said and done, they were helpless to find people whom they could rely on; they might find me so weak and vulnerable, but they did not seem to find a better person around, and I would think they themselves might not fit into the bill.

I would not have liked to stage a drama, trying to hold on to my guns, as it were, and trying to lash them for the heap of personal feedback they had levied on me. I could have very easily told them how they could not see these many virtues yesterday in me, and today all of a sudden all of them were unanimous to undertake a job which was vital and there was not a single soul who fitted into their expectations. Maybe they felt it quite humiliating to accept their own fault, and therefore had to send me out to discuss among themselves how they would push the pendulum to the other side and make me accept their proposal. When I had come, they did repeat all that they had faithfully prepared. This time they depended on me.

It was possible for me to refuse their offer, and make them regret for what they had done to me barely 24 hours ago; but still then I am not sure if that would have made them realize it. They were in a situation which was more than pathetic. They needed someone to salvage the situation, and suddenly it dawned to them after discussing for more than two hours that I would just fit in, and the boss who used the most sugar coated words did not stop to observe that he felt a kind of peace within when he considered my name to hold this important assignment. It is not going to be easy, but they said that I was credible and a role-model to hold this post. Was I carried away by their sweet words? I was careful not to swallow their words, but was available for whatever was the need of the hour.

I did not expect this to happen; this was something I could not believe would happen to me; it is not that it was something impossible for me to handle, but I always considered myself as a misfit for this assignment. But the four men considered me an ideal person to fit into the assignment, and each of them ventured to justify their proposal. I could understand that they all had a point to make, but they also were in a situation which demanded me to step in. They could not think of another person, more suitable than I. They were more than pleased when I agreed to their proposal and accepted to embrace this tough task.

It is impossible for me to assess if they were rethinking about their comments about me on the previous day, but surely they would have been happy about my availability, which I considered was one of my strong assets. Though they had strong reservations about the way how I presented myself, yet today they thought that I had an exemplary demeanor which could challenge young men. I had a feeling that during the two days battle, I had won over, though at the end of the day yesterday, I had a lump of sadness lurking in my stomach, and the loving and tender words of my dear friend soothed much of the pain, and today here I am to narrate the other side of the narration at the battlefront. But I know for sure I am to be prepared for more battlefields to face and embrace.

The Phantom within

There was a little fear within me as I readied to receive feedback about me, and how I came across to my companions, especially with whom I sat for “business” discussions every month. I had been quite conscious about many of the things which were going on in me for quite some time, and were working on some areas too. Now the fear was not about some unknown phantoms coming out of my cupboard, but about naming and accepting the one’s which had been living with me for quite many years, so much so I might have taken them for granted. Now is the time for me to take a good look at them again, and recognize them for what they truly are in my life.

Known devils are better than unknown angels, so goes a popular adage, and how true it is. The unknown phantoms living within me frightens me, and I have to make all effort not to let them get out at a moment when I least expected them. There were some other phantoms which were hiding behind myself, and I was least aware of them – when my companions gave feedback about me, these phantoms came across to me as unacceptable vices on my part. Two of my companions said that others may find it hard to work with me, because of my domineering attitude, and one said that I might find it hard to work with others.

I realize that all of my companions had a little bit of truth, and it would be a great danger if they asserted that they were absolutely sure about what they said about me; I am aware that even my own understanding of my limitations were conditioned by my awareness and consciousness. I felt that my friends were giving too much importance to the feedback given by others, and undermining my own realization of my limitations. The views and feedback of each one is conditioned by their own limitations and perspectives, and it would be next to impossible to separate these views from the personal bias.

But to be aware of the phantoms is one thing, and it is another thing to recognize the phantoms as residing inside of me. There is always a tendency in me to disown the phantoms, or attributing them to someone else, or to find excuses for their presence in my life. I know the same is also true with all my other friends and companions. There is not a single individual who from the very start embraces the phantoms without any reservation. All of them have their own excuses and limitations, but to name the nameless and faceless phantoms and giving them a space in the reality of our existence can make a lot of difference, and that is what I am struggling with just now.

I hesitate to accept everything that my companions tell me as gospel truth; there are more than enough evidences which say that many of my friends impose on me phantoms of their own making, and in psychology this could be just a matter of projection, and they may not even be realizing that they are doing this, either consciously or unconsciously. Not all phantoms are horrifying, and some of them could even be so very gentle and cool that even an angel may fail in comparison with them. Not all phantoms are evil and blood-mongers, some of them may even love to disappear into thin air, if that would help me to come to terms with the hardcore realities of life and embrace them wholeheartedly. This is time I welcome the phantoms and hug them lovingly.

Tit for Tat

There are some men and women who still believe in tit for tat; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, even though they know only too well that Jesus taught them a formula different from this one. Leave alone following the new formula of Jesus, that they should give even the garments to the one who likes to take the shawl, these people know how to strip people of the little dignity and honor they have, and love to place them on a pedestal stark naked, and call all the people around and declare that their opponents are stark naked. Such is the kind of thing that one would hate to come across, but when such a thing happens one is helpless.

The man had asked for a genuine feedback about him and his operations in public, and we took it seriously and opened our hearts to tell him how we feel about him, some of his bias and prejudices, some of his lopsided orientations, and least did we realize that he was going to fire us back for airing our opinions about him in public. No wonder, he made it a point to justify our feedback and the so-called remarks, and showed that he was more innocent than innocence itself. His duty and responsibility of asking for a feedback from the people who worked with him in decision making process is done, and now he is scot free to pounce on others.

He had acknowledged a day before that he had inherited a tendency to be judgmental from his cultural background, and was recognizing this trait in him in the recent years; but a day after again he came across vociferously to brand and judge me for what he does not have sufficient proof and evidence. I would not claim that I was altogether innocent, but when he said that I was suffering from “compulsiveness” to certain human error, I was wondering if he realized what he was telling about me in public. It is not that I was overly concerned about my image in public, but I realized he wanted to “humiliate” me in public and had pleasure out of it.

Just because you have learned a couple of words from psychology and psychiatry, you are not permitted to brand people with such labels, and I had heard him brand so many of fairly innocent men, and was feeling sad for it. At one or two occasions I had stood up and had cautioned him from branding others, especially on the basis of the personal prejudice he might have had with them. After our feedback on him, I thought he would begin to recognize the log lying in his eye, and instead he had gone to tell me to remove the spec from my eye. I did feel bad about this calumny, but was helpless; I remained silent, in order not to embarrass other companions.

I had felt that this gentleman is known for vindictiveness; if anyone stood against him, he would not hesitate to destroy their dignity and honor, and some of my close friends had narrated to me how he was trying to do that with them, and of late, I had tried to tell him directly how I felt in the past months about him, and how he was dealing with me. He would not accept many of the factual presentations and observations of mine, and instead he would jump to justify his reactions and judgments. I feel sad for him, because he had failed to read the Gospel he always swears by, and if only he could open his eyes, he would realize what the Gospel was calling him to. That is when his salvation may dawn.

Spotting Shadows

What I am and how I relate to others, is a matter of concern for those who rub shoulders with me on a regular basis, and there are times when they find it hard to put up with me, and I can make out how hard it is for them to really accept what I really am. When they think that I am a free man, they could make out a thin shadow following me everywhere I go, and it is hard for me to really free myself from the shadows. The fact is that most often I have been blissfully unaware of the shadow which had become a constant companion in life, and today I had made an attempt to unravel the mystery of this shadow and to incorporate it with my true self.

It is not easy to embrace the shadow, because the shadow contains part of myself which I had been trying to hide all the time from others; the bitter past experiences, persons who had left an indelible mark in my memory, more often negatively than positively, phantoms which had become part of my second nature and would not depart from me, and today I have decided to name the shadows and call them one by one to have an intimate time with them. I know this may not be the last time I would meet them; though I would very much like them to leave me for good, and yet I know for sure that they may take some time to leave me in peace.

It might be wrong to assume that all the shadows I have inherited are the works of my own creation or imagination; some of them have been inherited from my parents, my identity in society, the socio-cultural milieu in which I was born and grew into adulthood; some of the shadows have been imposed onto me by others in society, and I had been collecting them like a little child innocently collecting shells from the beach, and I had been giving shape to some of them as I grew into adulthood, and began to realize my dreams and aspirations; when my attempts to realize my dreams failed to take shape, I had taken shelter under the watchful care of my shadows.

I know that I had to recognize the shadows which accompany me, and give them a fitting farewell from my life at some time or other, but it is not that easy to do it. There are still certain areas in life, where I feel weak and fragile, and if I were to face failure or humiliation, challenges too big for me to face, where could I take shelter. It would be hard for me to say how long I would have to need them, but I can live an authentic life only when the shadows are gone. So long the shadows protect me from facing real problems and challenges, I am not living an authentic life, I always find a pseudo self which bears all the blame and excuses.

The false selfhood in each one of us expresses itself in defense mechanism, areas where I feel incompetent but am challenged to prove myself, where I find it hard to accept the so-called ugliness of my true self, and this is a process which begins at the moment when we are first challenged by society, which expects from us, something different from what we enter the world with. The shadows will be prepared to part with me, but it is I who feel reluctant to say goodbye to them. Today I wish to take a good look at my true, authentic self, and accept me as I am, so that I would have the courage to bid farewell to my assumed self. I believe after some days I would be able to smile at my shadows and tell them to part from me for good.

Making of a White Elephant

When we refer to a white elephant, all our friends know exactly what we are referring to. This had become the talk of the town sometime ago, and it is there for all to see. Originally visualized as an architectural marvel, this elephant was designed by a former student of one of our prestigious schools in the city, but we have to tighten our shoe strings in order to complete the building of the elephant, which had cost us a lot. But those who were instrumental in adorning this elephant, still claim that it is all worth it, because it is sure to stay as an architectural wonder to all who would visit the place. However I beg to differ from them, and had been doing so from the beginning of the making of it.

A place of prayer has to be beautiful, no wonder; but more than being beautiful what a place of prayer should be primarily is, providing a conducive ambiance to silent communication of the soul with its maker. The beauty can come only after the ambiance. The ambiance, spiritual masters might call this a spiritual vibration, cannot be created out of nothing; every place may have its own vibration, and if care is taken to discern a place with spiritual vibration, it would benefit all those who sit there to open their hearts to the Maker. Mere external beauty of the building cannot provide the ambiance to pray and commune with God.

I would think that the making of a place of worship and prayer should be left to those people who are spiritually oriented. I have seen several churches and temples, which have been squeezed between several buildings, and there might be too little vibration to pray; however those who design these might argue that if they seek after a place with proper vibe, they might not get one, and therefore should make use of what is at their disposal. I feel that this might be one of the main reasons why many people do not feel at home to pray in many churches. The architectural wonders may become a tourist attraction, but not a spiritual destination. This might be the contradiction that the improper white elephants may cause.

Spending a fortune to build and adorn it with the best of possible décor may not make a place of worship achieve the purpose for which it has been made. There are hundred and one ways to adorn even the ugliest of things, and to make them appear beautiful. Beauticians have a magic wand which can transform anything into an object of beauty; however no beautician can really assure beauty which seeps through the skin of the object or thing, or person. It would be better to bring out the beauty of the benevolent God through the structure and décor of a place of prayer, rather than making them imposing, even strangling the very presence of God.

Unfortunately there is a trend among the Church builders to make them as posh and imposing as possible, and not taking into consideration the sentiments and feelings of the people who would frequent the place to pour out their pain and suffering. If only the people who would use the place of worship were to make their own structure, then they might do it quite differently, saving so much of time, money, and even resources. Ultimately what matters is that the people feel at home, and I wonder how many people will really feel comfortable to pray inside the ‘white elephant’, and it would be a sad sight if it does not take people to God. It might just remain as a relic of someone’s obstinacy and high-handedness, and not a place of prayer and worship.

Showers of Blessing

It is quite interesting to observe how it rains in some places and not in some other; a few minutes before we began our journey, the sky was dark, and we were sure it would pour quite heavily. Therefore we preponed our journey, so that we might not be caught by the rain. But some half an hour later, the rain was nowhere to be seen. As we got out of the city, we came across dry ground, and not a drop of water was there. Where has the rain gone, and why did it not rain here? I was asking myself. How is it nature is so insensitive to the suffering and pain of the people? We cannot force the rain to come down on a particular place and not another. Maybe that is a grace in disguise.

Fortunately rain is something that one cannot make claim over, and no one can hoard it in the godowns, storerooms and warehouses. Luckily rain cannot be bought and sold in the open market; it is not yet a commodity which can be auctioned, and handed over to the highest bidder. Is it not something beautiful that some of the most beautiful things on earth are beyond the reach and control of the human beings – the rain, the shine, the moonlight, the movement of the winds and pressures, the movement of the sun and the moon, the growth of plants, the inner dynamics of the human body and mind. Thank God, no one can put a copyright to the monsoon rains.

Though much of the natural resources had been at the disposal of humanity, God had not given control over these resources, which are far more significant and noteworthy, than the minerals, water, and the natural resources, such as the flora and fauna. I cannot imagine what the situation on earth would be if someone had a copyright over rain and the air we breathe, and we would have been paying through our nose to even to breathe and to get wet in the first rains of the season. Now we know that God is a wise person, who knew that if the human beings were to have control over these, they would have made a mess of them, and therefore he decided not to let them mess with his great gifts.

The many attempts of scientists and technicians to bring down artificial rain have met with utter failure; human beings have learned that there are at least a few things in the universe, where they do not have the last word, and have to turn to the great power. Sometimes it may appear that the poor peasants and farmers get far too little rain than the people who are responsible for desertification and deforestation; but if we look at the phenomenon carefully, we would realize that it is not the case always. There might be rare exceptions, but by and large, nature is far more generous to the poor than to those who can afford to go without it.

Rain has been one of the signs of God’s blessing from time immemorial, and even today simple people consider it a special blessing of God, and without his mercy, we may not have rain for months and even years. This is one of the prerogatives of God, and we can get it only from him, and there is no shortcut to receiving this gift. The first drops of rain are considered to contain the sweetness of the heavens, and they are believed to contain healing power – scientifically, the first rains contain minerals which have the capacity to bring healing and wholeness to persons. Today I pray for this rain to the Lord of the rains, to shower his blessings on the people who yearn for it.

Partying on Poverty

The menu was not all that appetizing, and the smell of the dishes was not all that inviting, and yet the partying lot were huddled together to make the best dishes possible out of the least that was available. The menu list did not run in to pages, but just a few in number, but that did not matter to the family which had gathered, big and small, young and old, to celebrate their togetherness. It was like a stillness dawning after a stormy night, and they were sure that every stormy weather had brought them together and strengthened their bond and fellowship, and the "party" was merely an excuse.

The family which had been struggling to get out of the poverty which had been imposed on it, could hardly take a few steps before they are drawn back to the very spot they had been languishing for years. If they begin to blame others, there would be no end. The first and the most important culprit would be God, who had imposed such a privation that they had to struggle to have even one square meal; who had taken away the breadwinner at a very young age, and the young mother had to struggle to bring up her children, educate them, and get them married, and support them even after their marriage, when the marriage did not go too well.

The best image that comes to my mind when I think of this family partying on their poverty, is the story of the "stone soup". These poor senior members of the family brought their mite, the best from their privation, but they were full of joy to contribute their best to make this party memorable one. They are not going to think about their poverty, what they do not have, but are going to capitalize on what they do possess, the comfort and strength of the company of one another, and this was their greatest asset, and they had come to feel this beneath their bones.

When families are well off, they do not feel the need to get together occasionally to strengthen their bonding; they believe that the money and comfort they enjoy were good enough to assure them of a better days to come; the bonding with other family members, relations, and friends is not so essential for them to get going. That is the tragedy of the neo-riche, and there would come a time in their lives too, when they would be forced to seek after their lost family roots and find succor in them. For the poor and have-not it is a joy and way of life to come together and share their lot, but for the rich and the haves, it may become a socio-cultural necessity.

I feel partying on poverty can be one of the greatest moments of celebration in the life of a family, who have nothing to share, but their pain and suffering. They have nothing to offer to one another, than their shoulders to lean on. They have nothing to contribute to the party, but their own share of sob stories and painful memories. This party is sure to strengthen the bonding of the family, and no storm and cyclone can ever take the little pleasures and joy they enjoy. Today I take my hats off to this family partying on their poverty, and I only hope more and more families may bring in their poverty and party on them, so that their bonding may be strengthened day after day.

Life's Bitter Joke

Humor is of several kinds; I won’t be able to enumerate all of them, but I know for sure there is genuine humor which help widen our face-lines, and there is wry humor which would only arouse uneasy feelings in the listeners/audience, and there is yet another kind of humor which is cruel. There are similarly jokes, which instead of make us laugh, may only prompt us to shed tears, bitter tears. This is what can be termed as life’s bitter jokes, and today I am going to share about one such bitter joke one of my friends narrated to me. It is immaterial who had narrated to me, but the fact is that it happened today to people known to me. And believe me, jokes have no color or creed or nationality, and can apply to all people in all situations.

People do make mistakes, but if we fail to look at the people who make mistakes, and only blow the mistakes out of proportions, we are bound to lose the touch of humanness, and that may be dangerous. This senior lady, who had lost her husband some three decades ago, had brought all her children up single-handedly, courageously, crossing several barriers, hills and valleys. She worked hard to make a living, and even as she nears her seventies, she stitches religious habits for a group of nuns, and that keeps her going. She is assisted by her eldest daughter, mother of six children, and wife of a drunkard, who is the sole bread-winner of the family. The mother and daughter duo had received an order to make a religious habit for a nun, and today was the deadline.

The senior lady had not eaten during the day, struggling to keep the deadline, and rushed to hand it over to the nun, who on seeing the outfit, shouted at the lady at the top of her voice. There had been a lack of communication, but that was not the reason for her to lose her temper and shout at the lady, who had made this outfit with great care and love. Her daughter younger daughter, who stood close-by was stunned to see how her mother was being humiliated, and was deeply hurt by the rude and rough behavior of the nun. The senior lady and her daughter depended on the nuns to make a living, and they valued the orders of the nuns greatly, but they could not believe their eyes when the nuns began to pour out all their anger on the lady.

The mother and her younger daughter were both greatly hurt, but they are helpless; the ruthless and cruel way the nun had treated them was more than they could bear. If the duo was well off, they could just say goodbye to the nuns, but they cannot afford to do that. They have to repair the habit, by replacing it with another set, and the senior lady was ready to travel for three hours to purchase cloth to replace the one they had made with wrong measurements. When I think of this situation, I feel sad, and at one moment there were a couple of tears at the corner of my eyes. How could life be so cruel to the have-nots? Is not there a way out for them to live with the honor and dignity they were created with? Should they continue to live on the mercy of the people who could hire and fire them at will?

The one image which comes to my mind when I think of the bitter jokes of life, is that of clowns of ancient day plays; these were men from the lowest strata of society, who struggled to make both ends meet, and opted to make a living by making people laugh on stage. While they laughed and made others laugh on stage, the reality at back-stage and at home was just the opposite. They laughed while their hearts cried bitterly, and such is the laughter the mother and daughter would have been indulging in today, and when I heard this incident narrated to me, I was helpless as to how I could console the daughter, leave alone her aging mother. It is one thing to listen to others narrating to us as it happened to them, and it is another thing to experience it for ourselves.

Openness to Life

The young couple from Orissa, who travelled with me from Chennai in the train, looked happy and cheerful; they seemed to care for each other, and listened to songs from one mobile phone. They had too much of luggage, two cardboard cartons, and three other big bags, and was wondering what they were carrying. On the top of the cartons, it read sweets, pastries, but I was not sure if there were something inside. The man should be about thirty, and the lady in her late twenties. It was quite late that I overheard the lady sharing with another senior lady about one thing which had been a matter of concern for her and her husband: two years since their marriage, they were childless.

With expert look and demeanor, the senior lady seemed to have understood the gravity of their problem, and soon jumped in to help them. As I listened to their conversation in Hindi quietly, I came to realize the pathos that was bothering the young couple. While the young man seemed quite indifferent to the topic with the senior lady, his wife was quite enthusiastic to get the help of this senior lady, who hailed from Bihar. The ladies found something common that they went on chirping for quite some time, and at the end of their conversation, the senior lady was kind enough to give the young lady her contact number, and from where they could get medicine to “purify her blood”.

It is hard to tell if the senior lady was really trying to help the young couple, or just trying to show off that she was smarter than the young lady. Something in the appearance of the senior lady looked a little suspicious to me, and I would not trust each of her words as Gospel truth. But for persons who are frantically looking for solutions to the problems which are haunting them night and day, any person who gives them hope of a remedy is a God-sent, and they would believe them blindly, and be prepared to do whatever they may ask, even spending thousands of rupees, just for nothing. The problem is more severe in the case of educated couple, who would do anything possible within their capacity to get the malady reverted.

In the recent past, I had come across another young couple, who also had the same problem, and were meeting every doctor someone said is good. They tried alopathy, ayurvedic, homeopathy, herbal medicine, and yet were not satisfied with the remedies. The problem was with the man, it was found out, low sperm count, and therefore the doctors had to give him medicine to increase the count. Luckily the lady is expecting, and the doctors had informed them that their child would be born sometime in early August. But then they are too careful not to do anything which will deprive them of the child God had given to them.

Every child is a gift of God, and a popular adage says that every time a child is born, it is a proof that God still loves the world. If there are young people who are not able to be open to receive this great gift of God, the problem is not with God, but with our times, which is making us closed to receive children in life. The kind of life style we lead in the present days, does not allow conducive atmosphere physically, mentally and psychologically to receive this gift. We should have a proper disposition to receive any gift, otherwise it would be tantamount to insulting the giver of the gifts. Unfortunately the modern generation has to learn this bitter truth through the hard way.

Mama Mia!

Ever since I began my long journey from Chennai to Kolkata, my mother had been faithfully carrying out one ritual. The day I board the train, she would wake up early in the morning, some days it is as early as half past three, and would prepare food packets for my journey. I do not like the food available at the pantry car in the train, but love to have home-cooked food, and I do not need to remind my mother about this, even before I could tell her, she is prepared to get things ready for me. I really wonder how many people would be prepared to sacrifice sleep and do this for me; I know a couple of others may also do this for me without my asking, but I feel sad to ask my mother to do this for me any longer, due to her health conditions.

I know my mother gets the best of what is available for me, and sometimes my niece had been telling me that more special dishes are prepared at home when I am there, and that she was envious of it. Most often we take for granted the goodness of people around us, who slog to make our lives a little more enjoyable; the hardship, pain and suffering that the parents go through is most often not recognized. I wonder if there is any other way of life or profession which is more unrecognized, unrewarded than that of being parents. In the case of my mother, after sending me with food that she had cooked for my journey, she would make it a point to know if the food was alright on the way… Such is the care that my mother shows towards me.

I have seen the worst happening to my mother, and there were several occasions when she single-handedly shielded the five of us siblings from the onslaught of my uncle, who under the influence of alcohol chased us out of our home. My father being in military service was not available close at hand to take good care of us, but my mother was to play many roles during our young formative years. Herself almost illiterate, she did not know how to express her love for the children, and there were several occasions during my younger days when I had felt that she did not love me sufficiently, and had even shared this with my elder brother once. It took me many years to understand that her love for me was no less.

It is true that I never got a letter written by my mother, because she could not write; she managed to learn to sign her name, and just a few years ago was learning the read the Bible, and therefore it would be unfair to expect a letter written by her. She would dictate a letter to either my brothers or sister and they would write the same. There was not a single time that my mother visited me in the boarding house I spent four years in, and my father visited only at the time of admission. When I would see all the other friends receiving parents and relatives from home on Sundays, I could not think this would happen in my case. I knew for sure I could not expect my mother to find the place, the route for which was quite complicated. And yet I have no regrets for not visiting me even once.

During the holidays this time, on several occasions I had noticed that when my father and I would be resting, she would be in the kitchen preparing some special snacks for me. Given that she has high blood pressure, and sugar, she needed sufficient rest, and yet she was happy to give her best for me. In fact she would do the same for all my other brothers and sister too. Some years ago, I had felt that she was partial towards two of my siblings, but now I know she loves and cares for all of us equally. There is great joy in my mother when offering her best for me and my other brothers and sister, and she would go all the way to do it, if she could. Her own comfort and priorities were only secondary to our well-being. I am thankful to God for such a wonderful mother.

Operation Clean-up

When I put my soiled linen for washing in the Washing Machine, least did I know that the machine will do mischief in the middle of the night. There were not too many clothes for washing, and I thought I would put them in the machine before I went to bed, and so I did. When I got up at about 4 O clock in the morning, I felt water under my feet, and I felt fishy. That is not possible, I was sure. I switched on the light and saw that the floor of my room was flooded with water. I knew it should be the washing machine; it had happened earlier too. The outlet of the washing machine had come out of the pipe and it had flooded the floor then. But this time it is a different story.

When I rushed to see what was happening to the washing machine, I saw the machine lying on the floor, and the broken water pipe was splashing water on the floor. It was pouring water forcefully, and I found it hard to stop it. After a little while, I realized that the tap for this pipe was on the other side of the wall, and so I rushed in to stop it, and it did stop. But what do I do with the already flooded floor. The water had been flooding all through the night, and none of the three of us took note of it. I went to sleep again, but soon realized that it was becoming bright, and the day was breaking. I got up from bed and began to sweep the floor, but I knew that a Herculean task was awaiting us.

It was about five o clock, and my provincial after getting up realized that the floor was flooded, enquired from outside what it was, and I briefly reminded him that it was the washing machine. Soon he came with his short pants, and so I, and two of us began to sweep the water through the kitchen, where the washing machine was placed, but it was an impossible task for two of us to drain so much of water. First I tried to push the water with a broom, but nothing much was happening, and so I began to collect the water in a bucket and was throwing it in the sink. But in about ten minutes I was sweating profusely, and my vest and short pants were wet with water and sweat; we both continued to push the water from both ends of the corridor.

The water had spared only two rooms towards the end, where the floor was somewhat raised, and so water could not go in; but in all other eight rooms, the water had occupied almost all the place. As we were draining the water, one of our other companions was having his sound sleep; his sound sleep could not be disturbed by our noise-making operation. But we did not bother about him, and continued our operation clean-up. After a full one hour of cleaning and clearing, the provincial was exhausted and sat on the chair, while I too was exhausted and wanted to relax for a while in my room. Before I wanted to sit down, I cleared the floor of all the clothes, bags and notebooks so that I could dry the floor with fan.

I had sent two lines about our early morning operation to one of my friends, and soon came a reply from her, saying that the operation was a proof of Jesuit team-spirit. I knew for sure that my friend really didn’t laud our team work, though in the case of operation cleaning it really was, in other cases, we are far from desirable team-spirit. Often we have been accused of upholding individualistic tendencies, and excelling in individual work, and struggling with common works. This point had come up for discussion on several occasions, but nothing seemed to be happening in this front. Maybe many more washing machines should collapse in each of our houses in order to bring all the members of communities to take up join operations, to strengthen our team-spirit.

Authoring Ambition

At my age, probably it is not easy for me to vibe with a young girl of 16; times have changed and so also are people and their thinking. My niece today thinks about herself, her future much more than I did when I was at her age. Her concerns today are quite different from mine some three decades ago. Though it is not a good idea to compare people from two different epochs, and yet I feel certain things in life cannot be ignored or taken lightly. Ambition is the hallmark of this generation, and every young man and woman today may swear by it. But it is for us to realize that the very word ‘ambition’ has been much maligned after Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, and therefore it needs some qualification.

Unfortunately ambition is considered something that we should not give in to, because the fruit of ambition could be the fate of Caesar or Brutus. The modern generation, however, is not going to accept the theory of Shakespeare, which is some five hundred years old; modern thinkers and sages might just propose a contrary theory, saying that anyone who does not have ambitions may not succeed in life. The concept of thinking big is in reality an offshoot of this kind of thinking, which is fast catching up among the youth. It has not spared my niece either, though her ambitions are most often toned and molded by family members and friends. But there is fear that this ambition might go out of control if it is not kept under certain tension.

Choosing between two schools is indeed an important factor to realize the dreams and ambitions students nurture deep within; however the schools are merely the media which provide the proper ambience for nurturing of the dreams. The schools are only instruments in shaping the destiny of the youth, but they do not determine the destiny. It would be fatal if we were to consider that the schools are ultimately responsible for our future orientation. For a student who is serious about his/her dreams and ambitions, any school maybe good enough to flower forth, and for a frivolous one even the best of schools may not help much to reach the dreams.

I realized how the peer pressure could throttle the steady growth and nurturing of these dreams in the youth, when a few phone calls threw my niece haywire; it is true that friends would love to stay together and support one another during their school days; however they would soon realize that they cannot stick together all the way; sometime or other their ways will part, and each one will have to find his/her own way. Her friends had informed her that they were joining a “good school” as opposed to the “bad school” that my niece was joining. This thought that she was not admitted into a good school had caused enough of tears, and it took quite a while to make her understand that what makes real difference is self-determination and hard work, and not merely the schools.

The dreams and ambitions of the youth cannot be shaped by peer pressure or convenience; sometimes we hear young people wishing to be what their friends wish; this is a temporary arrangement, and it will soon fail, because the interests and orientations of each youth vary considerably. There are a lot more calculations and reading the signs of the times, which help the parents and other family members to arrive at a particular path to help the youth to reach the goal they have set for themselves. Trust in the guidance of the family, especially of parents, will be a great asset in this lonesome journey of the youth, and it is sure to bear rich dividends at the end. The youth will need to fall back on the resources of this trust and confidence in the near ones, especially when the going is tough. I believe this has been a tough moment for my niece, but I know she understands the dynamics of this process.

First Among Equals

At first I thought she was just kidding, but it took me quite a while to realize that she really meant it. She was quite upset because she was not the first one I attended to, and she was very sad because someone else had taken that first place. While I took the issue casually, because that was not a matter of life and death, she could not digest it easily, until she had a knock from another angle, forcing her to put this issue in abeyance for a while. I relationships we all desire to be the first one to be attended to, and we feel so proud when people give us priority over others; we consider it a matter of pride and prestige, and when this does not happen with the people who matter much to us, we feel terribly bad.

Humanly speaking it is quite impossible to be impartial in relationships; we tend to attend to different people based on the unsaid and unwritten priority list, though there is nothing sacrosanct about this list. We keep changing the order, depending on our wishes, demands, fulfillments and desires. If the British have the notion of ‘first among equals’ (primus inter pares) to refer to the very special place that the Prime Minister holds in a parliamentary democracy, the same may also hold true in the case of relationships. Even with the parents and other family members, her desire to supersede all of them is what pains and bothers me. It is not that I had given her the secondary place, but she has assumed it for herself, and there is very little I can do about it.

It is possible for me to assert her unique place in my life, but until she is convinced of this, all my efforts may go in vain. Children when they are small exhibit such a kind of behavior. I remember sometimes we used to fight among ourselves as to whom our dearest friend would wish first or shake hands first. That used to be a matter of prestige for us, and we would always wish that we be the first one to receive such an honor. This is based on the external behavior from the part of the other side, but such a thing can also be asserted from deep within. If I consciously acknowledge that I am the first one among equals, even if here are no concrete evidence to prove it, that would bring me peace and harmony deep within.

Unfortunately we live in a world which looks for concrete evidence to prove our feelings and sentiments. People cannot trust what we feel and think, but they want us to see everything translated into action, and unfortunately many of the feelings and sentiments cannot be translated into concrete action, and we may even make mistakes in the act of translation, but then can they be construed as lack of commitment towards the other? I find it hard to believe that everything has to be properly translated into action, just because it is not always possible. I would love to believe, not merely concrete action showing my love and affection, but more the feelings and sentiments the other person has for me.

On the one hand, it is possible that sometimes I fail to convey to the very persons I love and care, how much they mean to me, and the unique place they hold in my life; on the other side of the spectrum, it is also possible that I give wrong signals to others on the so-called “secondary” place I give to them. I believe it all depends on the proper sync of the hearts; if the hearts are in perfect balance and synchronization, there is bound to be better vibration and understanding. Disturbance from either of the party is sure to create psychological noise, which may make the noise prominent and project it so. While I feel the need to bring my heart to proper sync, I also hope to make efforts to check on my concrete actions, to strengthen the unique place each one has in my heart.

Painful Parting

It was hard for me to leave home this time; I had been going home for brief stay over the past 25 years, each time spending just a few days to one full month, but have not felt so emotional and sentimental while leaving as during this time. I know there were more reasons for me to feel emotional this time. My sister had not been keeping too well two days before I left the place, and I felt sad about her situation; aging parents and her too young daughter. When she is sick, it is painful to see her, helplessness writ large on her face; this is a reality she has to get used to, and that has been affecting me.

It is of late that I have come close to my family, especially my sister, niece and my parents; the others - three families of brothers, all of them well settled, and earning fat salaries - had not been my concern. After the sudden death of my brother-in-law, I felt it part of my responsibility to stand by my sister and niece, and help her cope with life. What I could do to her is mighty little, however that had been bringing cheer in her and her daughter. I was happy to see that she is able to face life now fearlessly, and support parents in their old age too.

Over the past 25 years, ever since I left home, I have realized that the poor and the needy do not expect money or riches from us sannyasis, what they do look up to us is, our compassion, our love and time. On more than one occasion, my sister had made the same appeal to me, that I stand by her side, and she would be able to face life boldly. I may not be able to realize how hard it is to face life in real life situation; we live in artificial surroundings, where everything is taken care of; it is not so easy to battle with the odds of life and still retain one's sanity.

Though she knows for sure she has to put up with so much of inconvenience in order to bring up her daughter, and to support the aging parents, and adjusting to their idiosyncrasies, one thing is sure, she is not the one who would easily give up hope. The strong determination to keep striving has brought her up to this point, and I feel happy and proud for her. First it was the deadly cancer which bounced on her, some 10 years ago, and when she came out of it victorious, life could not bear her victory, and thus came a bigger shock, the loss of her husband. Now she has shown that she is a victor in every way.

My way of life does not permit me to keep close contact with her, or in that case with anyone else. However I know the little I do to support and stand by her side will not go in vain. I felt sad while leaving the house, because my presence at home could bring smile in her face, and she could rely on me for any kind of emergency. As an elder brother, this is my responsibility and privilege, and I feel I am not able to fulfill this, and that was bothering me. But deep within I know for sure that my invisible presence will help her to lean on me when needed, and gain that encouragement and support, which can keep her going.