Monday, June 12, 2017

Delusions, Delusions, Delusions

The world is a delusion. Or maybe it is not. Who knows?

For me, I am increasingly fighting to keep my sanity, as I clutch my delusions close....

That I am an innovator entrepreneur and that I am building something that will see the light of the day and that it would make money, and that the world at large,including customers and self, will care.

That I am a significant human being and that I will leave some impact on something in this world.

That I matter to other people, and that they care about what happens to me.

That family consists of bonds forged by blood and togetherness, and that it is all worth it the long run.

That as a mother, I will have an impact on my childs life beyond my sojourn on this earth.

That as a wife, I have a role to play in my husbands life journey.

That as a daughter, my mother cares for me beyond her sustenance and upkeep.

That as a sister, my brothers care about the nurturing and love I offer them.

That as a member of my in-laws family, I exist, beyond the family member who got me in.

That as a friend, my friends want to see me and laugh with me often.

That I like the world, and that I like the people in it.

That I enjoy reading and music and meeting friends and travelling to see places and enjoy food.

That I matter, even to myself.

Delusions, delusions and delusions. If I let go of them, would I even know who I am and whether I should live?

But, the reality is much bigger than my delusions. Reality bites. Just no one really cares. Or matters. Not even I care about myself for too long.

Heck, not even this world will survive time. Not even this world matters. Impervious, non-caring, cold, no-impacting, useless. There is no God. There is no benign presence. There is no purpose. The world will come to its end some day. In the fullness of time, the sun will stop shining, the earth will stop spinning, and it will not matter to the universe. It will go on expanding as it always has been. Nature and existence are impervious.


Why worry about just me being worthless, of not being of consequence? So is the world, the sun, the moon and all the beautiful sensation causing sights, smells and touches. Its all delusional. It will all turn to dust. And to being non-consequential.

But ah, the last delusion of mine is not delusional. Of course, I matter to myself. Till the time I live, I matter to myself. I am of consequence to myself. I care about myself. That is all. It should be all.

But it isn't. It freaking isn't.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

The naming of the Ex'es


I am wondering - why is it that an ex-husband is called so, and the same does not apply to an ex-sister, or an ex-son?

In life, there are times when people move on beyond the blood relations that they have, and become strangers to their brothers and sisters, and sometimes to even their parents. People often times don't talk to their parents anymore, or don't meet their brother for years, or disinherit their son for some misdemeanor, and so on.

Blood will be blood, people say, but I haven't found it to be so. People can and do drift apart, sometimes they push people violently away from them, despite being bound by bonds of blood. I know of so many like that.

Just like marriages and loves, people do move beyond the ties of blood, and become ex'es, Why are they not called "ex" too?


Saturday, February 20, 2016

Uncle Vanya - By Anton Chekov



Read the play Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov, and followed that up by watching a BBC production on the same. Superlative experiences both.

The play is set in Russia, in an estate. It has a Professor, his young wife, his ex-wifes brother, who is the Uncle Vanya, his ex-mother-in-law, his daughter, a country doctor and an old nanny (not the professors). Its a story of delusion and love, of wasted time and of youth and beauty.

If I were to name the play differently, I would rename it to be 'Feet of Clay".

So many of us are deluded about people. Young love, is mostly delusional. Young devotion is also so. Young people are so impressionable, naive and so deficient in the knowledge of the ways of the world, that they tend to take the opinions and thoughts of people older and beloved to them as their own. They also take mature people to be what they say they are. Young people do not know about illusions that mature people have about themselves, and also about how crafty seemingly mature people can be. They do not know that they can be devoured by the self absorbed older people, who do not hesitate to use their aura, and the young people's vulnerability and ignorance to take advantage of them, sometimes even their entire lives.

Uncle Vanya is man who is 47 now, took his sisters and mothers opinion, both beloved to him, when he was younger, and spent his lifetime serving his brother-in-law, the Professor. It took him 20 years and some to realize that the Professor is an imposter, his erudition false and his mind petty. But of course, by then, it was already the autumn of his life. He also sees other victims of the Professor - his beloved niece (The professors and his sisters daughter), the second wife of the Professor and his own mother - and has to deal with the fact that while he may have realized his mistake, others haven't, and that he would have to make peace with that. He is horrified with the fact that he has consistently undervalued himself, and has accepted somebody else' opinion on him to be the true one.

To me, the one line where the Professor exclaims, "Ivan Petrovich, how could I know? I am not a businessman, I don't understand these things. You could have increased it (salary) anytime you wanted." is the curve where the perception of one man converts another mans life to a lifetime of servitude and ignominy. Not only does the Professor do the damage by his perception, he even washed his hands off of his own responsibility of the affair, and turns it on the victims shoulder!

As happens with great stories and writers, Uncle Vanya touched a chord. Its easy to recognize phases of my own life where I was Vanya, the hero worshipper, the looking-to-worship kind of soul, the kind who took peoples words to be the true, not realizing that behind those words are insecurities and vanities, and sometimes even predatory emotions. I also remember the utter chaos of the moment, when one realizes that the idol one has worshipped, decked out in ones heart and given years of life to, has feet of clay. The frustration that one then battles with oneself, the loss of faith in ones own judgement, and the regret of the years gone by, along with the desperate taking of courage of accepting ones mistake, and deciding to move on. And the sheer anger of watching the false idol, the emotional vampire, still being strong and capable of claiming its next victim.

As I take stock, I can still sense some of those people around. Worse, I can sense the falsies in me, as I have grown older, and I recognize that I could be tempted to play the same trick on some young people. May I never find myself desperate to do that, and may the young people around me never fall for that trick, if I do play it.

Here is the link to watch the play. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfH14h2-1Mg


Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Its kickin' in again!



It has started again. The kicking in of restlessness and wanderlust. I feel as if I am under house arrest, confined in the walls that I have constructed to live in. It seems as if I am in a jail.

I thought I had finally put down roots. Maybe there are no roots for me.

I yearn for another place, another set of faces, another set of skies, another set of thoughts to sustain me. I need to go and run outta here. Its not that I have nothing that interests me - everything interests me, but I am impatient to my interests. They don't hold me anymore.

No reason. I am just done here.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Cause and Effect


And then there are times when you meet people and they tell you about the impact you have had on their lives. And it strikes you about how you were completely unaware of this impact.

And you think about the long lasting effects of the impact. Then it becomes scary.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Identity Cr(ie)sis

I am a Jain. By birth.

By choice, I am a agnostic. By the way, as Jainism is based on the philosophy of Anekantvad - which essentially means "Each to his own", being a agnostic is not being non-jain. I am also a vegetarian by choice, though I do not differentiate between types of plant food or dairy products. I am aware and mindful of the violence humanity inflicts on the earth and its co-dwellers - and on my part try to minimize it as much as possible, without being fanatic about it. Which essentially means I am a happy middle-of-the-road person. My way of life will be frowned upon by ritualistic Jains, and will be frowned upon by hedonistic friends. So be it.

This past week has been one of Paryushan, the Jain festival of fasting and spiritual practice.

For my family, paryushan is business as usual. There are no changes in our routine, except that we sometimes go to Jain temple on the Samvatsari day, the day that most Jains fast, without partaking any food or water. I do not fast. For most Jains, paryushan is a period of spiritual practices, of fasting, of pratikaman, going to Vyakhan, and doing samayik. I do not do any of that. Nor does anyone else in my family.

This was not true with my parents. My father used to recite Bhaktamar every day of his normal life - all 48 shlokas, taking about one hour of his time, and would do it with joy and abandon. One of my favorite memories of him is him chanting the Bhaktamar with sheer joy and bliss. My mother, in my growing up years, used to do a full fast on every Panchami, and every paryushan was a time of spiritual activities. She knew the pratikaman by-heart, and used to lead several jain ladies in the practice. My husbands family are also passionate jains - with my mother-in-law visiting the Jain temple every day, before her meals, doing ekasana for the entire paryushan, and being a stoic jain in spirit and principle. My father in law, though did not follow Jainism's ritualistic ways of living, and though he was also a vegetarian by choice, there was little else he did by way of being a Jain.

This long explanation is just to make it known that whatever we follow in our family, has got nothing to do with my or my husbands parents. This is our way of life by choice. That being said, it is not that our family is a rebel. Most Jains my age are like us.

Till this time, this week, I have never had to think about the fact that I was born into a Jain family, or about Paryushan, and never had to defend it to myself or friends of mine.

The events in the last week, however, have changed that. Ban on sale of meat in several states in India, including Maharashtra, the state I call as my second home, along with a ban at Rajasthan, my birth state, presumably to respect the religious sentiments of jains, during our festival, Paryushan. Telling people that they should turn vegetarians because we Jains are observing days of spiritual practice is conceptually abhorrent and too invasive to me, even though I firmly believe that being vegetarian is a more humane way of life.

The social network and TV has been full of people condemning Jains. Some political leaders have spoken badly about Jains and asked them to leave "their" state. Jains, even Jain sadhus, have reiterated, some with disdain and some with harsh words towards the people who do not want to follow the meat ban. Celebrities have come out to oppose the ban and so on - the circus continues.

For the first time, I have had people ask me - Oh, so you are a Jain too, right? You do not want me to eat meat, right? And when I have responded that I really think that the decision of what anyone wants to eat today and any other day is theirs to take, I am asked again with an amused smile - Oh, so you are not a "real" jain....

All this has made me think about my identity. Yes, I am a Jain, as I was born as one. But I am not a meat-banning-and-forcing-peoples-choices kind of Jain. Yes, I believe is being compassionate towards animals and towards all humanity, but I don't think its any of my business to ask anyone else to also be the same. Its an individual choice, and a good one, in my considered view. However, I don't think this is the only way to be non-violent. There are other violent ways - avarice, dishonesty, laziness, materialism etc. Maybe I am violent in some other ways, which could be considered wrong by several other people of different faiths, but I don't accept anyone's right to force me to be how to be any other way than just what I am. I am willing to be persuaded, reasoned, but forced, no!

I am completely ok with people deciding to eat meat or any other thing during paryushan, indeed on any other day, if they are not persuaded that being vegetarian is not a good thing for them. I also believe and know that most Jains are like me. Each one to his own, is a most prevalent way of thinking, for most professional educated Jains.

I must speak up and say so. If I don't, then others who do not know what I think, will think I too want to force them as I am a Jain. My saying this publicly will make my Jain relatives and friends doubt me. It will make my non-Jain friends doubt me. Let them.

Wait - let me think some more. Am I sufficiently Jain? Am I willing to stand on the podium and support people who are opposing the meat ban?

Yes, I am.

Yes, I am a believer in live-and-let-live.

Yes, I need to let people know that there are tolerant, not-forcing-upon-other-people types of Jains too.

Yes, I will stand up and make my opinion known.

But wait - would I be ostracized by my extended family if I did that? My extended family knows what type of practicing Jain I am. Indeed, many of my cousins and their children are like me. However, what would be looked at askance would be about how I did not stand up for the jain point of view of vegetarianism at this time of so called crisis on the Jain community. How could I agree with the people who did not want the meat ban?

And, what about my mother, what would she say? my masi? my chacha? my mama? My mother would definitely be disappointed in my public tolerance of all things not jain, though not disapprove. My mother-in-law would chastise me and my husband and links with my husbands family would become even more tenuous. And my mama would definitely definitely disapprove. Next time when I meet these elders, I would be given a thorough talking to. I would be subjected to a lot of "Oh, how could you...?" - even by people who are like me in practicing jainism. And oh, does that mean no jain would marry my daughter? Oh My God......

Standing up for my convictions, I realize, will not be easy. Let me think again. Does this matter really matter? Would it really matter if I keep my opinion to myself and not subject myself to the necessary doubts?

Ok. decision time. I will keep quiet. Yes, given everything else, this is a sensible choice. And this is what I will do. Let the political parties and the gurus and the samaj ke thekedars sort this thing out. I have to live my life, take care of my business and take care of my daughter. These are things that are more important. Yes.

Anycase, maybe this will simply die its own death. The paryushan will get over in 2 days, and then we will be the same set of people who always were. The wealthy, unobtrusive, look-similar-to-Hindus types. Decision taken, dilemma resolved, I am at peace.

But I am not really. I am now worried more than ever on reflection. This is exactly how most middle-of-the-road minority people think when the fringe extreme elements of their religion start making extravagant, intolerant demands upon the others in name of religious identity. Most people simply choose to keep quiet, just like I am wont to. Most minorities consequently stand the risk of being identified by the religious intolerant actions, and several times, the price is high. Muslims have faced this for years and years, not just in India but at other places also. Recently, a muslim youngster in the US was accused of creating a bomb when all he was did was creating a home made clock.

Do I want my daughter to be forced to defend her identity like this innocent curious young boy? No. A thousand times No.

For the first time, I think about my identity, and how it affects me and others around me. Till now, I was always a part of the majority, and I never needed to think about it, but this time, I have walked in the minority shoes and realized how it exactly feels. It is not nice. Not nice at all.

I need to think again. And so do millions of other moderate Jains need to, too. Not just moderate Jains, all moderate muslims, all moderate human beings, who just want to let people be, to let people make their own choices. Moderate people who do not want their identities to become contaminated by the people who want to force other people to be like them.

Just what can we do to keep our identities intact and let them not be hijacked by others of our faith?


Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Losing of self

Every loss of mine has robbed me of a critical essence of mine. That part of me has gone with the loss and never come back. I have managed to live, but not whole. Its a shot-through-with-holes kind of life. I look around and find people around me struggling through the same deprecation of self. I am not the only one struggling.

I remember that when my losses were recent, I would stare at others and wonder if they knew how I was bleeding and lacerated inside. I would wonder about how they would react if they knew. I would think - maybe there are others who are equally adept at hiding their losses and wounds, and would take solace in the grim silent companionship that provided. I am not the only person in the world who had had losses, I would tell myself, and reassure myself, the world with its thousands of people has coped with losses, and has continued to smile. I would cope too, I would tell myself - it just needs more time. Time being a great healer and all that.

But time really isn't a healer. It hasn't healed, and I doubt it has healed others. We have just become better with time in faking our wholeness- made easier by the fact that our bodies show no scars of our losses. Our body appears whole, shiny and well fed.

Eyes give the game away at times. Eyes that lingers at new born babies, father and daughter walking together, young lovers, friends smiling at each other coffee, and then look away, unable to deal with the images of the previous self that it conjures up. Yes, I have caught memories of losses in eyes, mine and of others.

There are days that I am unable to live with the diminished self I have become. And it is those days that I yell, I criticize, I lash out, I rant and then after having gone through every coping mechanism, just hide myself in a room and ululate.