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!

Searching for Smiles

One of the lessons which I had learned at the death of one of our friends, 13 years senior to me, is that whatever we do, and wherever we are, could we do something to unburden the others who are weighed down by worries of the world, chased by problems which make them hate life, made to believe that life on earth is not worth living! There are many around us who go through this kind of hide-n-seek game with life each day, without realizing that they are slowly pawning their lives with forces which may one day snatch their lives and hand them over to the angel of death! Just a kind act towards these people can change the way they look at life, and once they realize the beauty of the world and its people, then things can take a positive turn.

Ours is a tortured, battered, mutilated world, which yearns for some respite, and it may sound an insurmountable task for us, but if we all put our shoulders together to look at this world which is groaning with pain and agony, probably we may be able to find a way of relieving her pains. It is not an impossible task; it all depends how each one of us is convinced of his/her personal responsibility to extend healing balm to the neighbor behind or in front of him/her. It is easier to curse darkness rather than lighting the candle, and we all may resort to easy solution, instead of doing our little part to ease the situation. Luckily we do not need to do spectacular works, or need really to sacrifice our lives in order to save the dying humanity. We are not saviors of the world, but we can surely become the angels of kindness and mercy to each one around us.

I become more and more convinced that what we on earth need today are not great scientists who would make the impossible into possible, who would find solutions to all the problems the humanity had been facing down the centuries, who would unravel the mysteries of the universe and find greater avenues for harnessing the resources of the greater earth, who would make us believe that faith in God and human touch can be sacrificed at the altar of self-centeredness. Nor do we require persons who would find a way of feeding every person going hungry to bed each day. We are not looking for spiritual gurus who would make every urban dweller happy and peaceful! If we want to save the world, then all that I am convinced we are called to is : to spread a little bit of human touch.

There is one little way I am confident we can do this : I take a little trouble to go out of my own self to reach out to someone in need, in whatever way I can. It is for me to choose how I am going to reach out to the other! If at the end of the day I can make a person smile, then I can consider my work done. It is not an impossible task. Yesterday after hanging around in our college to arrange for the funeral mass today, one of our friends, offered some fruits for our community. There were mangoes (the look alone was so tempting), grapes and another kind of fruit. As I walked home with a polythene bag in hand, near the park I put the bag down, took out a mango and offered to a girl who had made outside the park her home for the past six months. There was plenty for us, and I was not going to lose much by giving one to her, she also would have the joy of tasting a mango even before it fully entered the markets.

I have realized a secret of what really makes us smile: when we are able to make someone smile, that is sure to bring a natural smile in us. Check it for yourself. I have checked it and it works like a charm. It is like an echo, or a reflection on the mirror; and this can create a ripple effect. My smile can create some one smile too, and it can go on unending. Smiles are becoming too costly in our world; even the best of make-up and ornaments sans genuine smile may be meaningless; but a gentle genuine smile even in the absence of ornaments can make a person really glitter, and that is the secret that we all can become partners in. I can only imagine a situation when the whole world is filled with smiles all around, and it would be like a garden with flowers in full bloom and that is really a joy and feast to our eyes.

The Art of Flying Kites

Makar Sankranti (which generally falls on either 14 or 15 of January according to Lunar calendar) is considered an auspicious moment for the religious Hindus; on the one side we have the Ganga Sagar mela in West Bengal, and on the other the Kumbh mela in Haryana, where devotees dip themselves into the cleansing (?) waters of the Ganges, and get themselves purified. For good many Santal tribals, the occasion is celebrated as Sakrat, the festival of 'eating and drinking', marking the end of the harvest season. For reasons unknown, Sankranti is also a season of flying kites, and across the country one comes across special kites competitions organized during these days.

Flying kites is not as simple as it looks; it is an art, just like singing, music, and dance are; or just as not every one can write great poems, or sing in accurate pitch, so also not every one can fly a kite. Some years ago, I didn't believe that flying kites can be a challenge; when I found a few kites perched on the terrace of our building, I tried to fly it, and what a disastrous attempt it was. The kite refused to soar; I tried to imitate little children so wonderfully maneuvering in order to keep the kites soaring higher and higher, but all in vain. It was a great moment of enlightenment for me: one, not all can fly kites, and two, it is easier for smaller children to learn flying kites than for adults!

But what does the art of flying kites refer to, and what is it all about? Put simply, it is all about the art of maneuvering; it is very similar to the maneuvers that a fighter pilot would make, in order to escape the target of the enemies. Sadly a killer instinct is also made to thrive while flying kites; it is no longer a game to let the kite kiss the blue sky, and wander freely amidst the clouds, but it is also targeted to knock down other kites, and the thread is given a coating with glass paste, which is capable of severing other vulnerable thread. But this is human ingenuity going beyond reason and good sense.

To maneuver a kite in the midst of strong winds is not an easy task; just as a boat which is supported by a mast is left to the whims and fancies of the winds and the tides, so also is the kite is left to the winds; but it is only a master kite-flyer who can turn the kite to face the winds and bring it back home. But there is yet another easy option left to him/her, to let the kite follow the winds, but then one s/he has to make sure there is enough stock of the thread, if one still wants to have an hold on the kite. There is the third option, to let the kite go free by leaving the thread, and just enjoy gazing at the kite freely and gently glide through the winds and going beyond the sight. There is a pleasure in watching your dreams, fantasies take wings of poesy!

It is only the small children who would have the inner freedom and generosity to let the kites go free in the sky, and not make a hue and cry if the thread is snapped and the kite takes freedom to go where it wills. The freedom to let things go free from our hands demands we have the generosity to let things go out of our control, out of our hands. We cannot have the threads of the kite held tightly in our hands, and at the same time let it go free; we cannot keep the cake and eat it. But there is no greater joy and satisfaction than to let the kite glide through the winds in the blue sky, and gazing at it with the contentment that it is in the good hands of the sky and the winds! For like all arts, flying kites can bring us joy, and letting it go free can bring greater joy!

On Hurting Others

Is it ever possible that a person deliberately and voluntarily hurts another person? Those who have read the previous blog "On being hurt" would naturally say that it is not possible, because whether one is hurt or not, largely depends on how one responds to the external forces. But is there any other right answer to this question? Probably there is certain amount of truth, though we may have to rephrase the question. Is it possible that a person deliberately causes pain to another? Naturally hurting and causing pain are not one and the same thing. Hurt is something related to the mind, but pain is something related to the body, naturally provoked by the mind.

It would be wrong to equate every pain to hurt feelings, and every hurt feelings to pain. There is no other creature on earth which is as sadistic as the human beings. It is unfortunately only the human beings who love to see others suffer. Imagine the number of persons who love boxing, men and women being tossed in the ring (though we are told that all is not real, but feigned); the number of people who love violent scenes of killing and cannibalistic movies. We take pleasure in not only causing pain in others, but also in seeing others suffer. This is a fact which no one can really deny.

For the sake of clarity, we shall not consider those people who deliberately and consciously cause pain in others, by their words and actions. We know that this is objectively bad, and no decent person will every tolerate such a behavior. But we shall now consider those persons who unconsciously cause pain in others, and feel bad themselves when they come to know that they had been the cause of others' pain and suffering. All may not accept the excuses of these persons. I had gone for a dinner and was talking to a long-time friend of mine, and so did not bother to take note of other guests. The next day I get a phone call from another close friend of mine who also had been to the dinner, and she tells me that she is hurt because I did not bother about her! How do I respond to her complaint?

All my explanations to this friend of mine might sound unreasonable, and would think that I had been deliberately avoiding her, and that she feels deeply hurt by my behavior. What could I do in such a situation? There is hardly a way how I can repair the so-called damage done to her. She would not be pleased with any kind of reparation from my part. But I have found a way to handle such a situation, and is quite simple. I would not try to explain to her anything more than the objective fact. She would not accept my reasons, and I would not insist on it either. She might leave me the next time I meet with bitter tears, or may sob over the phone.

But the remedy starts after a day or two. I give a call to her under some excuse or other, and this time she would be surprised, or I might suddenly drop in at her house and tell her that on my way to some place I felt like dropping in. That is enough to break the ice. The hurt feeling is sure to melt at that very gesture, when she realizes that after all, I am not all that bad! This however does not give me freedom to be insensitive to the feelings of others. I need to keep my eyes and ears open, so that I don't cause pain in others, even involuntarily, because when I cause pain in others, I too am indirectly affected by it. When I am the cause of joy in another, that contagious joy affects me too, though positively!

Called to be Fully Human

One of the blessings of modern times is that we have become numb to all existential reality; our hearts have turned solid that it is hard to say it is made up of flesh and blood. Our sensitivity to human feelings and sentiments has gone awry, and what we are today is just a passing phenomena, which does not affect anyone whatsoever. Is it not this reality that we witness each day in our surroundings? It is not rarely that we come come across incidents when crowds had stood around a dying person, not one of them moving his/her finger to help the dying person. We all want to be safe, and do not want to soil our hands. We cannot think of running to the police station, after trying to save a person; we all want to say, it is none of my business.

I find it hard to accept that the modern men and women have forgotten to have a hearty laughter, a hearty meal, a enjoyable evening. The golden rays of the morning sun is too harsh for their sensitive eyes, that they have to protect their eyes with Ray-ban, or dark glasses. The soothing drops of the first rains are too hard for them to bear that they cannot think of getting drenched in the rain on purpose. Sometimes I would like to ask myself, when is the last time that I listened to the song of a bird, or gazed at the sky and counted the stars; or when is it that I chased the flight of a bird in the evening sky. When is it last that I fixed my eyes on the laughter of a new born child!

These are nature's great gifts to humanity, these are magical moments which can touch even the hardest of hearts. If we do not want to be touched by the Midas touch in nature, then what is life on earth worth? Our lives are so full of artificial, look-alike machines, which have replaced nature's role in our lives. Our contact with nature's world (natural world!) has become so minimal that we can be within the four walls of a room for days on end, without ever bothering to venture into the open fields to realize the vastness of the sky, and the music of the waters or birds.

Our lives have become so very artificial and monotonous that we do everything routine like, without even feeling, sensing. Our eyes have lost their vision, and today we don't see reality as it is, but see only what we want to see; our ears today hear only selectively, and our bodies feel the touch of only the persons we want to. The gruesome murder or the bloodshed of a neighbor does not make us to shed a tear or two; we stand like stones, without seeing, without hearing, without feeling, and maybe when we die, we may die like a stone. Humanity has become immune to pain and pleasure, and what sells today is artificiality. There is no scope for survival for real, and that is where human civilization has taken a U-turn.

I realize that I cannot be insensitive or immune to what is happening all around me. I want to be active and alive to the reality, of which I am an integral part of. I want to enter into the world I belong to, and give myself fully. I want to see the beauty around, I want to hear the music of the birds, or the insects, or the whistling of the breeze; i want to soothe my ears with the roaring of the ocean. I wish to feel the gentle breeze passing through by skin, I want to smell the soil after the first rain, smell the rains, smell the skin of my spouse. I pause for a while today, and close my eyes and reactivate all my senses. I would like to take time to be fully alive to the world that beckons me to be part of itself. Let me see myself transformed into the universe!

What’s in a name?

It does not require great intelligence to observe that our names mean so much to us that we are most often associated with our names. Sometimes our names may not much correspond to our personality or our characteristic behavior, but it will invariably have something to say about us. The name is also very closely linked to our identity; we carry this identity until we die. But this is an identity that has been superimposed on us by the society we live; unfortunately very seldom are given an opportunity to choose our names. We are given names by our parents or relatives at the time of our birth, and as is the case generally, when we grow older, we may not like the name, and even wish to change, but might feel helplessly that we cannot do that. So we carry our names till we reach our graves. I wish we choose our names, but that would mean that we have to wait for several years, and what is the guarantee that we might not like to change the name yet again in the later years!

It gives me a lot of joy to observe tiny tots in the first year of school, quite oblivious of their names being called. They cannot even associate themselves with a set of sounds, which we call them their name. If we are to enter into their selves, we will realize that they are blissfully unaware of the fact that they have a specific identity in the society, and they have to carry it wherever they go. It is for this sake that in many countries schools have begun to tie a name tag around the kids, lest they forget who they are, or rather who the society calls them as. Many of us do not know what our names stand for, and what their origins are. Some names have a specific background, which may be quite revealing. When one of my brothers begot a son after about 15 years of his marriage, and after going through a series of complications, he named his son Gift of God! One day, Alen will come to know that he was truly a gift of God to his parents and to the world.

Though I don’t really like the idea, there is something very special in the religious nuns take a new name when they finally profess in a religious congregation. They gain a new identity, but again this new identity may not match their true nature or character. It used to be said of a particular women’s congregation when the head of the Order would take a list of names, line up the sisters, and give them one after another, and each one got a name according to their luck. Some had the fortune of getting even what is often considered men’s names. Is it possible for them to identify closely with the new name they have gained? Of course in the religious profession, the change of name is a symbol of changing a way of life; they have gained a new identity, quite different from the one the world has given them. They have gained a new identity which will hopefully point them towards a new goal and a new orientation.

Sometimes we do not like our names, and start fiddling with it, as I too have done. It is possible that within a cultural context a name had a lot of significance, but when we move on to a different cultural milieu the name becomes quite complicated, and even becomes cause of confusion. A Chinese name may become unutterable for an Indian, and similarly an Indian name may be too complicated for a Chinese. Luckily we find ways of shortening or abbreviating our names to make them more presentable, and even palatable to others, but we remain what we are. One thing for sure, we all love to be called by our first names. In religious circles we are called by the honorary titles, and that is often done out of respect, but when someone senior were to call us by our first names, our hearts throb, and leaps for joy, because we find that that name evokes sensations that rise from the bottom of our hearts. Is it not for this reason that lovers love to call each other by their names!

Today I would like to pause for a moment and savor the sweetness of my name, and all that it implies; let me call me by name several times, until I can hear my heart vibrate with feelings so tender and gentle that I feel enlivened. We live in a society, where people who wish to be polite and formal, like to call me by my second name, which is far removed from what I would very much like to hear, but I know the people I love and care, do call me by name. Today I would like to reflect how God calls me; perhaps he has the best name, hearing which my heart would throb, and the sound of the name would always ring in my ears. What is that name, the special name, which has been reserved for me, and only for me in the whole of the universe. I sit in the secret corner of my world, waiting to hear God call me by that name, as I look longingly to his countenance in everyone I see and encounter. If only I can hear his voice, my heart would be full, and I may find no words to utter. Name is the other name for my deepest desires. (Rome)

Be My Friend!

The weather in the city had been considerate towards this foreigner, who had come to have a first-hand experience of the country. The mercury soared from -10 to 0, making some allowance for me to venture into the street, to witness the snow-capped vehicles, trees and terraces. It was a beautiful sight for the eyes, but I would not think it was the same to the residents. Yesterday one of my senior friends confided that the temperature we had been experiencing in the past few days was the lowest in the last 10 years. While we hoped that the temperature may come to a normal state, allowing normal works and life to resume. It was cold, and going out in such cold weather was not something that one might enjoy; everyone rather would like to stay indoors. But there are some who have no other alternative; whether it is rain or shine, snow or dry, they have to get down to the streets. I look at them with so much of kindness, and feel they too make life worth living for quite a few.

Looking through the glass window of my room onto the road, often I see people on the road; most of the time, people walk alone. Seldom have I come across people going in a group. Sometimes there are parents with two or three of their children. Today I saw three children throwing snow at one another, while their mother coolly walking ahead of them. But often I see people who walking alone had a minor companion: puppies. While the men or women who take them alone are well-protected from the cool wind and the nail-biting cold, these creatures have nothing to complain. Rather they have neither the voice nor the audacity to complain. They have no choice to choose from, whether to accompany their masters or mistresses, or to remain indoors. They have not been taught the art of saying no gracefully, and so according to the whims and fancies of their guardians, they have to accompany them wherever they go. I would not say that these tiny creatures are often ill-treated by their custodians, but they have absolutely no freedom to be all by themselves. Many of them receive royal treatment at home, and sometimes are the centre of attraction in the family. But they are there always at the disposal of their guardians.

I really wonder what these puppies would tell their guardians were they given the gift of human speech; would they protest or joyfully go wherever their guardians take them? It is hard for us to imagine what they would feel, though sometimes it is possible to make out how they react from their movements, but that is not the case always. I have heard of cinestars having specially bred and brought-up puppies as their pets, and they would shower all their love and concern for these puppies, sometimes going to the extent of spending a large per cent of their earning towards them. I have also heard of some rich ladies, who organized to have a decent (and expensive) burial for her pet, spending a huge part of her fortune. At the other side of the spectrum, we have people who would pay undue importance to their pet animals rather than the human persons they live with. I would not like to say that the pet animals should not be given love and care, but can showering more love and care to these pets rather than the persons we live with be ever justified? Here is something for us to think about!

Granted that I am not so much in favor of having a pet for me, I know that these pets can be truly sources of comfort and solace, especially when the human spirit dips. When human relations break, when the pendulum of fortune swings, when expectations do not materialize, when hopes crumble like a pack of cards, when the trusted ones betray, when family ties snap, these pets may stand by. They may offer or we may find a shoulder (if we think they have one) to lean on and shed tears! They may not share our suffering and pain, but they may stay with us, without wishing to run away. That is something beautiful about these pets, and that is something we can be grateful to them. But at the same time, we also need to think of them as independent creatures, having the same kind of freedom and independence that I desire for. Within the narrow limits of my existence and life at large, can I find ways of allowing these pets to live a life of their own? Can we allow a human person to take the place of these pets, so that we may experience greater intimacy and concern exchanged between?

Today I would like to pause for a while to think of all the pets that we grow with and love and care; they may have different names, shapes and forms, and they may receive different kinds of treat from their masters and mistresses. I would like to express our heartfelt gratitude to them, for their share of moral responsibility, and lightening up our burdens, when we are drowned needlessly by the cares of daily life. I would like to think of them, not so much as objects for me to use at my own whims and fancies, but to consider them as creatures with their own freedom and independence to be as they wish, without any external control imposed on them. We too may have a lot to learn from them, in submitting ourselves entirely at the hands of the one who leads our lives. Maybe it is then that we may realize a different kind of freedom that takes us to a different realm, far from the human. (Brussels)

Memories sans Morality

We are back to our memories - one of the most powerful tools that nature has either to revitalise a drooping spirit, or maim an energetic soul. It is a reality that often we have very little control, and memories can be the most precious treasure or the worst enemy of my life, depending on what past has stored for me. We have acknowledged that often in life we are imprisoned by our memories, and feel quite helpless unable to get out of them, however hard we may try. Memories are the last resort one may in order to keep alive something that is lost for ever, and even such memories may slowly fade into oblivion as time passes. In fact, according to psychology, memory is an organism's mental ability to store, retain and recall information, and they would often divide memory into short term and long term memories.

Short-term memory allows one to recall something from several seconds to as long as a minute without rehearsal. Its capacity is also very limited and may even be faulty. By contrast, long-term memory can store much larger quantities of information for potentially unlimited duration (sometimes a whole life span). Here we deal with long-term memories, which last a whole life, and have greater impact on us. We shall not enter into a theoretical analysis of how information or data is transferred from short-term to long-term memory, and how they are slowly solidified and stores, so that we could have access to them at will. But we understand that it is a process that takes place each day, without out being conscious of it, and thank God it is automated, much of our energy is saved for other things.

But let us face it! We cherish every moment of pleasant memories, and wish to run away from the painful memories; we are all too frightened of the painful memories, especially those of the loss of the dear one or that which has caused something very grave in life. Think of a moment when a person was on the jaws of death; or a moment when a young lady has been assaulted physically by a group of strange people; or an instance when one witnessed the gruesome killing of the closest family member by some one known. The very moment we think of the incident or memory, we begin to sweat, and our body immediately reacts naturally and automatically. Our heart beats faster. Sometimes people who have gone through such moments are provided psychological help, basically through counselling to break open the prison walls of the memory.

It is a joy to spend hours together recollecting the joyful moments of the past, but not so with the painful memories. One may gain a lot of strength from re-living the past joyful moments, while one may feel agitated and shaken by the painful memories; one may even be impelled to do something socially unacceptable due to these memories. The consequences at times could be quite tragic and destructive. It is like a room that is full of these moments stacked up deep within me, and at particular moments I hear some strange noise from this room and am frightened. And this may happen over a long stretch of time, and I may be frightened each time to open the room and confront what that noise mean to me.

Memories in themselves are neutral and indifferent, it is I who attribute a certain quality to these memories, as joyful and painful ones. Today I look at the most important memories that strike my mind more often, and look at them objectively without attributing any quality to them. It is only when we attribute qualities as joyful or painful memory that they will have a corresponding reaction on the body. But that is not what we desire for now. Let us look at them as objective reality that I was subjected to. No judgement or no moralization. Just the memory sans morality. Stay with it for as long as I can, even if I have the urge to get out of them and find back my escape routes to find my comfort zones. Let me also realise the unseen, invisible presence of the entire humanity standing by my side to hold me, support me. That is where I may find my way back home!