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!

Work out for Workaholics

Some of my friends often tell me that they have no time to think about their near and dear ones, no time to say hello to a dear friend, or no time to scribble a few lines to the one who is deprived of the pleasure of email... No time. I am busy! I get annoyed when people say they are too busy, that they cannot spare a few minutes. We have conveniently given such people a honourific title, 'workaholics', and many are happy to be branded so. The logical conclusion of these people is they end up burn outs. They get absorbed so much with what they do, that they forget their true identity; they think they are what they do! This identification is dangerous and in fact if one starts to identify oneself with what one does, that is the starting point of burnt out...

Maybe it is only the human beings who are endowed with that fifth sense (rationality) or the sixth sense (intuition) to dissociate ourselves from what we do. Being and doing are two completely two different states of existence. The workaholics live the existence of "doing" and they hardly ever "be". Can there be a unsurmountable work which will block a person completely from being what he/she truly is? In reality it cannot be; but then where is the problem? It is in the human mind which wishes to project itself as the busiest person in the world, a thing that he/she can be proud of. People may think that the person was really enterprising, and hardworking... faking is so easy for them.

But there is another way of being while doing the job I am involved with... If I begin to enjoy the job I am busy with, then I am truly being to myself; my whole person is involved with the work; it is pleasure for me to be involved in that job, and no more a burden. But take the case of workaholics, they seldom enjoy their jobs, and that is evident from the fact that they may spend more time complaining how difficult their job is, rather than doing something about it. That is what makes me to think that most of the people who say they are busy are basically faking. In order to hide their idleness, they have to pose as if they are busy with some work or other.

Am I then telling that there cannot be situations where a person has so much of work than he/she can digest? Such a situations are always possible. One can either be or do in the way one approaches the work. You may look at the job as something that needs to be done, and you may do it passively without allowing yourself enter into the work, and you count the hours passed, and look at the clock at every five minutes. On the other hand one may like the job so much that he/she has not realised how the time has passed, and there is no grudge on their part. The latter are not workaholics, they are normal, healthy human persons.

There are times when my work takes precedence over people, and I may become so inhuman to the very people who care for me; such are dangerous symptoms of becoming addicts to the job. What happens when their job comes to an end, and where do they turn to? We need to do our work to the best of our ability, but our work cannot come in the way of our being... however important that work be, it is only next to our being. Today I will pause for a few times during my work, and ask myself, am I a passive workaholic, or do I draw immense pleasure in doing the work I am assigned to. Maybe when I begin to enjoy the job, I may begin to see the world with different eyes, different vision... I may see there is beauty in the work too, and such a realization is sure to take me to the beauty that is within me; that maybe the beginning of my encounter with the Antaryamin, the Lord of my heart!