Chagrin of change

Change in any field is wrought with its own share of problems and challenges, because to let a stream run its course is easy, non-demanding, but attempting to turn its course to an altogether different direction is going to cost both the stream and the one who attempts it (if there is a human agent involved in it)! However it is change which gives life and vitality to the otherwise monotonous human existence. If there is no change around us, then too soon, we all would be mad, and turn the world topsy-turvy. Everyone desires change, but it is hard for those who are to execute change in the otherwise smooth-flowing stream of activities.

A friend today wrote to me in the email saying that she for the first time lost her temper, and shouted at the teachers for their irresponsible behavior. When the principal had reminded the teachers to keep the students ready for a function, so that time is not wasted, the teachers were all too cool in the faculty room, lost in their own world. That was the time the principal stormed into the staff room, and gave the teachers a piece of her mind. The teachers jumped to their heels and things were as desired within minutes. But if the principal had not given that shock treatment, it would have taken quite some time to get the children organized, and the program would have begun late.

We are all good people, and we hate displeasing others, especially the familiar and friendly people; the people who are cordial and loving towards us. We would think twice or thrice before we tell them anything unpleasant. To pull them up is the last thing that we can think of. On the other side of the spectrum, we realize that the people we are friendly with are the ones who would take the maximum advantage of our dizzy situation. It is easy to let these people continue the way they are used to, and we would not like to dirty our hands, and create havoc to the relationship. But such an approach is sure to cause dearly to the work assigned to them.

Why should I dirty my hands unnecessarily? That is the question that many people tend to ask; after all, it is not only my responsibility! I am only the principal who is appointed for just a few years; it is the duty of the people who decide our fate, to take serious steps against people who falter and err in their duties and responsibilities. We cannot get something good unless someone is prepared to dirty his/her hands, but the moot question is: who is prepared to dirty the hands, and live with the dirty for years to come? As soon as one tries to put an order in the midst of chaos and disorder, the people who created it and love living in the midst of it, are not going to let anything be changed; it is a fierce battle that the one who is at the helm of affairs has to be prepared to face.

Fearlessness is one of the great virtues of servant leadership model, and those who are afraid of dirtying their hands and bear all sorts of criticism and calumny cannot be true leaders. To put it in reverse, one who has not received severe criticism from his/her companions, cannot be a leader worth his/her salt. But to dirty one’s hands can be a powerful exercise to bring in the much needed change and it has to well up from the inner freedom and openness the leader experiences towards the people at his/her service. Such fearlessness, free from any personal agenda, is also a saintly virtue, the hallmark of sincere saintly persons.

His-tory

I would like to tell a story, one that is a miniscule fragment of the story of the universe. My story, you will soon realize, is part of the story of every human being, past or present or future. In fact, there is only one story that can be told, and every other story is either an adaptation of that one story, or a re-telling of the same. How can there be more than one story, wherein every human beings appear and disappear at their appointed time and space. You may be surprised to know that my story has no beginning and has no end; it begins abruptly and ends so. Are you wondering why it is so? You may ask the universe, which is the story-teller, and every creature on earth is just a character. If I look at my particular role in the story, I may not get either the head or the tail, because I am part of the whole, and have no existence on my own.

You should pardon me if my role in some way coincides with yours or some one else’s; know that I am not to be blamed for that. You cannot think that is an oversight by the dramatist or the playwright; it is not so. It is intended to be so. You may hear the same songs, same characters, and you may even see the same scenes enacted, re-enacted time and again. You may even be bored to death, and may wish to run away from the hall. But hang on a minute. What you think is a frozen moment at the play is in fact a progressive moment. It may benefit you if you were to drop down you wrist watch at the dustbin over there, and forget for a while the concept of time and space as you are known. Because we are in a different kind of plain, where time is not linear, but cyclical. Here you will see that characters go round in concentric circles, and their movement may be imperceptible to your naked eyes, but remember that they do move ahead. Where do they go? You may never find a satisfactory answer to this question, even as your life comes to an end. That is how the universe moves.

I am the ever old and I am the ever new; how would you define the water of a stream or a river? Is the water fresh or old? Is the water of the sea old or new? We are all flowing with the current of the stream, and we know not with which stream we may join hands. We take along all those whom we may find on the way, the simple, the weak, the selfish, the arrogant, the haughty, the cruel – everyone will have a place in our stream, and that is what gives fresh vigor and strength to the current. Do they spoil and pollute the stream? They have no power to do so, because it is beyond their power to contaminate the waters, because they can only contaminate themselves with the waters, and cannot do so to the waters. There are some who recognize me, and there are many who do not recognize me, and I have no regret towards them. I am no one to condemn or judge them. They will be their own judges in the days to come.

But where is my story? Why have I not begun my story? If you look attentively, you may realize that my story has begun already, though I might sound beating around the bush, without coming to the core of the story. You may wonder, where is the plot - the beginning, the middle and the end! Where are the Aristotelian conflict and the dénouement. I would not be surprised if you find the language of this story complex to you, and the language alien. We are used to stories, which are told from the point of view of the human persons, but here is the story told from the perspective of the universe, and the whole of human race. It is no harm if you do not get the core of the story, and are left in the middle, unable to guess what is happening to the characters. There will be a time, when you will be called to play your part, and then you may leave.

Many are the streams that have joined me over the years, and I bear all of them in my heart; there are the weak and the fragile, the haughty and the proud, the simple and the humble, I bear all of them in my heart, and they will be with me so long there is breath in me. Every time I touch someone, he or she becomes part of me, an extension of myself; I flow into that person, and that person flows into me. There is a mutual flow, enriching each other. Life flows that way; it is never one way. As it moves forward, it also retracts to take along the people she had given birth to. That is why life may seem never progressing, but if you look at from the concentric circles she encircles, you will know that she is on the move. After centuries, you may realize that she is still on the circles, because the circle never comes to an end. Life too may never see an end! (Rome)

The ‘Golden’ Silence

One of the first things that I noticed while sitting for about three hours at the Germany’s Munich airport was the quietness all around. It was not that there were no people at the airport, but it seemed they had nothing so much to talk to. There might be an occasional self-talk of the children playfully running here and there, but the adults were in their own world. Even when families when sitting one after another waiting to board a flight were immersed in quiet ruminations, or lost in their own concerns. There were many who wished to kill the apparent silence by reading novels, news papers and magazines. I was telling my companion, what a difference it made between the airport in Kolkata or Delhi and Munich. They were worlds apart, and in fact it is futile to even make a comparison, because we are talking about two different worlds.

Two worlds! Two worldviews and it is hard to wed them. Am I trying to make a futile comparison? To be frank, the point of comparison is only a starting point to note, how two groups of people consider silence. For the Indians, or as extension for all the Asians, silence is not golden; the spoken words are golden. For the Europeans, the reverse is true. They would not like to pour themselves out in needless spoken words, and therefore for them silence is golden. It would be quite stupidity on my part to propose one to another, for there is something wanting in both the views, and very seldom have I come across people who could strike a balance between killing silence, and deafening mutterings.

We do need silence to quieten our hearts and minds, and look inward, and each day should have a share of silence, at least at one point of day, either early in the morning or before retiring to bed. I would prefer to have at least 15 minutes of silence for me – all by myself, without any disturbance from any one! I would not like to be distracted by anyone, for whatsoever reason – no cell phones, no urgent message, no knocking on the door, no ringing of the door bell! This 15 minutes is precious to me, to delve deep into myself, to align the loose ends of myself, and become aware of the different currents that flow in and out of myself, and take stock of my life for that day (what I would like to call, to take personal audit for the day). If I am not able to give myself the gift of this ‘sacred’ time, then my words may be just meaningless and may mean just nothing, both to me and to others. We may call this time prayer, meditation, yoga, contemplation… but the purpose is the same. To take an inward journey into myself to re-assess my inner resources and to prepare them to meet the demands of the day.

The other side of the picture too is equally valid. The ability to speak out and to pour myself out to someone else does not come naturally. Too much of silence may lead to depression and later to mental imbalance. It is not enough to become aware of the inner currents within me, but I also need to share what is going on within me with someone who either shares certain of my inner resources, or with someone who would reflect my moorings like a mirror, so that I may be able to see my thoughts, words and deeds as objectively as possible. It is often too easy to keep ourselves engaged in useless talk; we do not engage in serious talk with strangers we meet at the railway station or in the bus or at the market place. Our words there are calculated and measure, so that even by mistake we don’t enter into the personal and private lives of the people we converse with. If only I engage myself with some meaningful conversation with someone I have great confidence in for at least a few minutes, then my life may begin to flower forth, and spread its fragrance all around me.

Today I would like to take a few minutes from the daily routine for myself, to enter into the inner recesses of myself, to discover the streams of silence running in and through me. Let me stay at her shores, look at her beauty and charm, allow my feelings and emotions drown in these streams, and be transformed. I would like to stay with these steams for a while, without in anyway trying to run away from her. Let me enjoy the silence spreading to all over my body, into all my veins. I would like to feel the graciousness of silence relaxing my entire body. I would also like to consider the different persons with whom I was able to engage in some meaningful conversation, the persons who have touched me and helped me to see beauty within me and outside of me, who make life still meaningful and beautiful. In the silence of my heart, I would like to thank all such people, who make my life worth living, and when I get an opportunity to open myself to them, I would like to articulate such sentiments to them, for silence when wedded to meaningful words can make my life truly significant! (Bruxelles)