LIFE AS JOURNEY

Life’s Travelator

Once again I was at the swanky airport, yet again on another official outing. The alarmist that I am, as usual I was at the airport well before two hours. With no luggage other than an over-nighter, check in was a very brief affair. I picked up a coffee and walked to the waiting area near the departure gate. This is one place I love. Stepping back from life waiting and watching people or reading, I am normally detached from my surroundings and take flights on the wings of my thoughts. I also watch people posturing and sending non verbal messages to those around. It is a world of make believe, both of making oneself believe what one wants to believe in and making others believe what one wants others to believe. It is a kaleidoscopic display of egos I get to witness. Normally I come out having learnt something or the other.

This time was different. Few days ago, I had managed to spend some time with a friend of mine. She was in her late seventies and gracefully waiting to cross over on her final journey that was imminent. Anne and I had been friends with her for over eight years. The difference in age or time didn’t deter us from being very close friends. Her daughters who were very caring and attached to her had kindly allowed us the space within their close circle and we had become like one extended family. This time sitting at the lounge she was in my thoughts. I was thinking of how we had become friends and how our friendship evolved. I was looking at life and people in the perspective of a time traveler. I too am a time traveler, engrossed in a journey that is actually lonely but made full by people and stuff that I chose to surround myself with. These choices are personal and the outcome of my life actually revolved around the choices I had made all these years. I was actually looking at life, my journey so far and was wondering what lies ahead. I was on a different plane altogether.

It is then that the child on the ‘moving walkway’ (travelator) grabbed my attention. He could have been at best six or seven. I could not see his parents anywhere near him, but he seemed to be happy exploring the area around. I perceived that the child was confident and independent. The parents, having allowed him on an independent mission, I am convinced, were also confident about their son’s capability to handle life on the fast track. The boy was running on the ‘conveyor belt’ that took him from one place to another. While some passengers just stood on the belt and were happy to be carried by the belt at its pace, some walked on it but this child was running on it. Thus those who stood on the belt reached the other end faster than those who chose to skip the belt and preferred to walk outside. Those who walked on the belt reached faster than those who chose to stand on the belt. The boy beat them all as he ran the whole length. It looked as if he was floating ahead of his times. 

As soon as he reached the other end, he got on the return conveyor, ran to the initial place and the cycle continued. Each time he was on the belt he left people behind. He was clearly enjoying it. Then I spotted the proud parents, standing to a side enjoying their son’s achievement. They clearly had given birth to a winner, on their hands, who would fulfil not only his own dreams but even theirs which they could not.  

There was still long for the flight to be announced. The wait was long and we all had time. The child kept improving his skills on the belt and each time he ran faster. It is then he spotted the elevator. He ran for it and as soon as the doors opened automatically, he got in, punched some buttons, down he went and soon he was back in the same elevator that set him free to run the travelator to resume his pursuit of beating people to their destinations. The game had become complex, he was enjoying it. He was a winner. 

I could sense the pride of ownership on the child’s father’s face. His son was leaving people, much elder and bigger than him, far behind. He was enjoying it. All those who were watching must have had their own emotions. Some nodded in appreciation while others expressed apprehension but most of those sitting there were oblivious to what was happening and busy in their own worlds. 

Then the inevitable happened.

As the child came running from the elevator, he ran on to the returning travelator. The initial momentum of his run carried him 5 10 steps on to the belt, but laws of physics can’t be denied its right and might. He was thrown back head first and delivered flat out at the end. The passenger, on the belt coming out, tripped over him and fell on him- all in a hopeless helpless human heap. Some of those who were watching got up to see what happened. Some said, ‘it had to happen’. Some had smiles on their faces and could not hide their happiness over his fall. Some blamed the parents and few blamed the child. Hardly anybody moved to pick up the child. I was the first to reach, helped the man to his feet and then having been freed of the burden of heavy human flesh on him, the child got up. He looked around and seeing many staring at him, began to cry. He was not injured but visibly shaken. The father of the child reached the scene, caught the child by his hand and slapped him hard across the face and dragged him away. I could hear him cry along. Soon the cry became sobs and then it ebbed into silence.

Few minutes later I heard a murmur from the crowd. Looking up I spotted him back on the travelator – as if nothing had happened. He was back at play and the travellers back to what they were doing.

I was disturbed. Why did the child choose the wrong travelator? He had mastered the art of beating people in one direction. He should have continued to do what he was doing. He chose to leave the travelator for the escalator. He succeeded there too. Then why did he on his way back choose the wrong direction? Was it an error in judgement? Was it a deliberate decision to go against the forces to try something new? Why did his father who was happy in his son’s capabilities and stood with pride, slap the child when he fell?

In a flash I saw the connections. I realised that a profound truth of life was dramatically played out for me. In fact it was played out for all of us. I don’t know who saw what. But I saw a great truth.

God gives us a path and with it, the resources to reach where we want. The choice of using the resource depends on us. It is for us to decide whether we want to go forward or not, up or down. If we decide to move forward in life, we can choose the travelators and elevators or skip using it. It is our choice. We cannot blame anyone for using a legally provided resource to get ahead of us in the journey of life. Such choice has its risks too. It is a decision that we have to take. We should know when the doors to an elevator would open and close, where and to which levels it would take us to.

If we decide to choose the travelator we have a choice to stand around, walk on it or run towards our goals. If the decision taken is to stand around, many would walk past us. But it is our decision to stand around, leaving us with no choice but accept the time frame in which destiny delivers us to our goal. If we choose to run to the goal or take an elevator, we reach faster than others. Our kith and kin would stand by admiring us with pride. Others who take note of our achievement will have their own emotions, which they may or may not voice. But most will be oblivious to us and our achievements. Yet there will be many claiming ownership to our achievements.

But when, ego and error in judgement takes the better of us and we choose the wrong direction to seek our goal then we are sure to fall headlong sooner or later. As soon as we fall, we are likely to hear the scorns and mocks that always accompany failure. Most will stand and watch. Rarely few would rush to help. It is likely that, the ones who rush to help may have nothing to do with us. The ones we think will rush to help may deliver crushing blows. That is life. When the going is good, home is full and when going gets tough, even shadows disown. It necessarily does not mean that we must always go with the tide. It also does not mean that we never go against the tide. It just meant that there is a right direction, there is right pace and with every success there is an accompanying element of failure. The fall may not be hurt as much as broken egos. Worse is the slap from someone, who took pride in our achievements turning against us when we fail. But the good news is that there is still another chance each time we fall, to pick up, mend our hurt egos and run, but in the right direction.

GOD ME AND THE VERSES

Reading the Bible and understanding what it means to us in our daily lives, gives us an insight into how the Bible truly impacts our outlook to life.

Most of us read the Bible as a daily ritual that we are likely to have grown up with.I was also brought up on a daily dose of compulsory Bible reading.  As a child, when at home from hostel, I always woke up to a dreaded “morning session” of prayers forced upon me by my father. Evening sessions that I had to go through were elongated and tormented versions of the morning experience, with sleep painfully weighing down my eyelids. Each session typically commenced with a reading, selected through the principle of “random opening” of the Holy book. A hymn selected, based on the prevailing mood, followed the reading. My father then led us in prayers and my siblings and I chorused. The entire process was painfully slow in its progress and intense in discomfort for me. My focus, while reading and singing, was on getting over with it at the earliest possible.I was either sleepy or hungry and in the evenings, certainly both.

The real de-motivator besides sleep was something else. Prayers invariably preceded my cross examination on daily activities which was anyway an unpleasant experience. I like every child wanted to avoid it. Prayers, as time passed by, naturally, became synonymous with discomfort. I was happy to be away in the hostel since I was spared of all these uncomfortable compulsions and daily dose of cross examinations.

Spirituality was the least of my interests. It was not even on the distant horizon.I don’t think, even once, I bothered to ponder over what Bible meant to me or how relevant the verses within, were to me. I was not the only one who was suffering this unpleasant ritual. Few of my friends tasted similar predicament every day. But a few others were lucky. (So I thought). They did not have to bear the daily dose of torture that I had to bear. They didn’t have family prayers at home! I wished we also did away with prayers.

Now running into my fifty fourth year of existence and looking back I realise, pray I did, each day of my childhood and adolescence. It was not structured the way my father did. It was not melodious like the songs my sisters sang. Pray I did, asking “Him” to be at my service, without knowing who this “He” was. It had to be “Him” because super powers,for a little boy, had to be like “Phantom”- the Ghost who walks, Mandrake The magician, Superman or Spider man.

Since Phantom, Mandrake, Superman and Spider man had other jobs to do, God had to be a superhero “custom built” for my needs. So all through my childhood I called “Him” at will. He was on call. I asked “Him” to accompany me every time I walked into the examination hall without reading my books. Books, I didn't have the inclination to read any. Exams, I didn't have the patience to go through three hour session of torture. With each difficult question I saw printed on paper, I wanted “Him” to pull answers out of my head and help me scribble. I forced “Him”along to my class when the results were announced. I wanted “Him” with me when my father had my report card in his hand for that was trouble time. I called “Him” for everything good, bad and ugly. I needed Him almost incessantly because I was mostly amidst problems which I wove for myself without much effort.

Poor God! He must have had a real tough time with a demanding client like me. He was always there to get me past ordeals and troubles even if it meant, just scraping through. I was just about satisfied with “Him” because “He” got me out of most challenges I gave him. But there were times when I felt he let me down, leaving me tending to my broken heart, bruised ego, frightening solitude and devouring melancholy. That was uncertain adolescence.

I still remember His greatest failure. By the time I was eighteen, I had, had enough. I certified myself as a failure. I had lost my will to trudge on. I decided to put an end to all my sufferings. I walked straight to the railway tracks. As I sat for the train to approach, I called him to take me away for good. He pretended to be deaf. The train got late and my impatience got the better of me. He certainly failed that day. I had no choice but continue soliciting His support till I found better ways for myself as I continued with my rudderless life.

At the age of 20 I joined the army. Finally, I was on my own. I could do without such discomforts like prayer. Promptly I did away with the ritual. It actually did not matter. I had other things to do or spend my time on. Anyway I didn't hold much opinion on anything that didn't convince me. A ritual called “Prayer” was just one, out of a long list of stuffs I didn't like or want. I never sat down to the “ritual” of prayer. I could do as I pleased myself. I was neither called upon to answer any spiritual questions nor had I the inclination thereto.

Few years later, I got married to an educated young lady who was more logical and rational in her thoughts and actions than I ever was. Soft spoken, loving and caring she brightened my life. I rarely had the need to call “Him”. Finally I had someone to call my own, to love and to be loved. I found my heaven. Whether it was change of, heart or ways, I gave that much desired rest to “Him”. I was hardly calling “Him”. I didn’t need him. There was a lady in soul and body waiting for me, tending to me with delicate love that I had never ever experienced. We were happy amidst our material inadequacies.

Everything was fine now. Fine, till the day after my daughter was born, I saw myself staring into the eyes of an impending catastrophe. I saw my little angel all wired up lying in a helpless bundle. I saw the stream my wife’s tears made and felt my heart tear apart. The earth was all but giving way under my feet. My citadel was just about crumbling. My dreams of days ahead were just about to be shattered.

My helpless cry, somehow, seems to have reached my childhood saviour. I saw “His” work yet again. I promised not to let go of “Him”. I never let Him go. I was scared to let Him go. “He” was there when my kids grew up. I asked “Him’ to mediate when I wanted to patch up with my wife after the rare squabbles we had. “He” was there always on call. He saw us through thick and thin. We rarely read the Bible. We hardly sat down to pray as a family. Gradually we grew up as individuals and as a family loving and caring for each other. We understood the needs of each other without being told or asked. Sharing whatever one got with each other became a habit with us. We genuinely loved humanity. My children, I am proud, grew up to be good human beings. Hugging and saying ‘thanks’ and ‘love you’ became a second habit amongst us.

Discussions on ethics and duties became common on our dinner table and it did not take us long to recognize ourselves as “practicing” Christians.During these discussions, I realised, I could recall some of the verses I had read as a child. I started reaching for the Bible for reference, more often. The strength of the Holy book became clearer. Realisation that my loved ones and I were carried all these years by a benevolent God finally dawned on me. Blessings have been countless all these years. I truly do not deserve all that I got. I saw my peers being left behind in the path called life as I was piggy backing “Him”. My children have taken to the skies soaring. Success found them without much toil. Parenting them was pure bliss. We remember good and tough days with gratitude. I am the luckiest father, the luckiest husband and the luckiest friend. My wife and I tried our best to soften the old age woes of my parents. They breathed their last in our hands, cared for and pampered. My children took pride in serving and caring for them.

My parents have left for their heavenly abode. My children have left the nest in pursuit of their own lives. My wife and I are proud parents and dutiful children. We have found more time for ourselves. It did not take us long to recognise the synergy that we had attained in our lives through mutual respect and intense love. We also discovered something strange! We discovered that our life was far beyond the arithmetical total of our sweat and toil. It was as if someone had miraculously led us. We weretwo gullible individuals filed with idealism and our own baggage of follies. But the Almighty had led us, by our hands, through a maze of seemingly non-negotiable hurdles. Looking back we could not fathom how we could have got where we got to. Our only strength was genuine compassion for our fellow beings but that could not have led us to the locale where we reached. We soon realised that some great power somewhere had moved the world for us as we wandered about. It was gift from the Almighty to the four of us for nothing but being truly compassionate. We realised we had received more than our share of attention.

Now it is time for gratitude.

We have turned to Bible seeking answers to our questions. The treasure trove that it turned out to be, I plan to share with you.What I write is not a work of research. I am penning down what I thought and understand as I read the Bible.

May it be led by Thee - Thee who led me by my hand from my mother’s womb till today – through thick and thin, a steadfast friend not leaving me even when I continued to err, patiently standing by me even when I repeatedly crucified “Him”, reassuring me each time when I was scared, soothing my pains, filling my loneliness and giving me hope. 

NOW I UNDERSTAND

Dad, me, you just don’t try to understand

Desperate my daughter, as the situation, I try to understand

Against me in my way, why I find you, I don’t understand

World’s ways at least now, you need to understand

Those little frowns and smiles, I could understand

Without words, your needs I could always understand

Fleeting time I feel, I failed to understand

My little girl, a charming lady, I didn’t understand

Your little eyes, once I could always read and understand

Angels and demons, your dreams, then I could understand

Clinging to my chest, your sleep I could easily understand

Your need to be cuddled, by looks I could then understand

You were trying to walk, I could easily understand

Why I had to hold you always, never fully I could understand

You were just teething, from books I could understand

Why night long your mom and I cried, I still don’t understand

It was just a passing fever, from the doc, I could understand

Why your mom and I couldn’t sleep, I still don’t understand

You, with your friends were out just to play, I could understand

Your absence short, why our concern grave, I still don’t understand

You, our dream come true, I do understand

Why you cloud all our thoughts, I don’t understand

Why we interfere so much, I don’t understand

May be, it’s our love that you don’t understand

Your curls and perms, in my own way I do understand

Your slang and tastes, though weird I do understand

Your distance from me, now I don’t understand

Your silence, once crystal clear, now I just don’t understand

Clinging to me you always stood, why, I then could understand

Holding you, my swelling pride I then could understand

Why you hold your friends so dear, now I don’t understand

May be, it’s the generation gap that I fail to understand

Once my parents, me, I felt never did understand

My needs and deeds, they just couldn’t understand

Their reasons and logic, I just couldn’t understand

Ways of the world, I felt, they just couldn’t understand

For once, my girl, now I truly understand

Them and their love, now I truly understand

Thanks to my daughter, now I truly understand

Life’s cycle, my girl, now I truly understand

PRISONERS OF PERCEPTION

That is how I define mankind. 
May be I can qualify it a bit.

Insecurity Driven. 

I am convinced that we are driven more, by our insecurity than by the secure existence we enjoy, both resultant of individual perceptions. Our perception driven insecurities propel us to do what we do and plan to do. More often than not, we dissect our yesterdays, fantasize our tomorrows and miss out our todays.

  Each human being perceives life differently. Sitting in their safe cocoons unfettered by perceptions of insecurity, most see life with their own pair of perception spectacles. Otherwise, why do people think and behave differently? There has to be an answer somewhere! 

 Scriptures tell me that even Adam and Eve were propelled by insecurity imprisoned by their perception. Why else should anybody, sane and cocooned in the most pristine surroundings, amongst the august company of divinity, with nothing to worry about, do that silly thing of eating a damned fruit, the only thing that was forbidden? Did Eve perceive that she could eat that fruit and become like God and be more secure? Did insecurity consume her because she was forbidden from having something as insignificant as a fruit from one particular tree? She could not have been tricked by that wizard of a crook called Satan if he had not sensed her halo of insecurity. 

 Did Adam perceive that he could make himself and his cohabitant secure by that senseless act of vanity? Did he perceive gains in agreeing to go along with the plot that Eve and Satan hatched? (Notice the similarity between ‘greed’ and ‘agreed?) Both Adam and Eve perceived that nobody would know what they did. They stole the forbidden fruit, shared it and for the first time perceived nudity. Remember they were seeing each other every day without ever feeling naked. Having perceived nudity, they ran for cover, found leaves to cloth themselves in and in the ensuing chaotic cauldron perceived the need for each other and secured themselves falling in love. Rest is both history and future. 

 Why did God forbid Adam and Eve from eating that fruit? Did he perceive any threat from them? Was he insecure about man’s intentions and capabilities? Was He too prisoner of his own perception? Difference in perception between creator and his creation 

 Closer home it was not much different. Poor insecure Kunti wanted to be sure of the boon she had secured. Perceived she could experiment with Sun and ended up in divine conception. She got what she wanted but couldn’t keep what she got. She perceived that she could cast away her insecurity but ended up with an insecure future for her sons to be. Rest is both history and future. The story continues… 

 If perception be the omnipresent driver, where is truth? Does absolute truth exist? If what we see, what we do and what we feel is perception coloured can truth exist devoid of perception? 

The importance of the need to manage perception clearly emerges. Smart management of perception leads to believable truth. Civilizations clashed because of the conflicting sides of the same truth differently perceived and managed. One who manages perception better and mobilizes better emerges the victor. The focus therefore for a leader is to perceive ‘truth’ the way he wants to and manage others perception of his truth. Ethics may or may not be an ingredient of his perception. Good of the society may or may not be the outcome. Goal is the focus perception management the most potent ingredient to achieving that goal.

DROWNED IN A SEA OF QUESTIONS

One can only stand in awe when one analyses the way one is brought to this world.  Mystery shrouds the way one fades away from it.  One doesn’t even bother to look as to how one traverses life’s winding paths. It is, as if, one just gets dropped, sneaks around and then is just flushed out. Something like a drop and pick arrangement. Most of us find this ‘drop and pick arrangement’ as our life’s journey in its entirety and find nothing wrong or strange in it. (What the hell can we do about it attitude!). One can truly exist blissfully unaware of one’s own future, divinely happy at being able to forget the past and mostly insensitive to life’s present tense! Blissful ignorant existence!

For some, life’s sole mission becomes a quest for answers to few questions. Who am I?  Why am I here? What am I supposed to do? Who will give me the answer or help me find them? How do I know what should my life’s mission be? What is the purpose of my life? Seemingly simple questions! The first lot, the blissfully ignorant ones, to which most of us belong, make up the commoners. The second lot, the few uncommon ones, take time off from living, plunge themselves into a passionate search of answers.

Most of these uncommon people, in the normal course however, never find mention anywhere! In fact most of these poor things are disowned by their own kith and kin since the quest these folks undertake evoke no material benefits! It just doesn’t fill stomachs leave alone coffers. These seekers therefore, are often dubbed as lotus-eaters. (May be some do eventually become lotus-eaters and it is also true that most lotus eaters find this garb easy to wear. All thinkers are not necessarily lotus-eaters and all lotus-eaters necessarily need not be thinkers). The lucky ones, of these few, do manage to find the method in the existing madness and fewer out of the few muster enough courage to tell the world of their success. They become instant toasts as “Gurus”. The cash registers start ringing. They find the means. The same folks who wrote them off then try and find methods to own the guru and patent his knowledge.

I am, not by any chance or stretch of imagination, in any of these leagues. - I can’t bring myself to it. May be, I am in transition. I suppose that is the best way to say it. Yet, I need to find answers to some of these questions.  Before it is too late! Before I lose this chance forever – as I understand now! Time is at a premium. How much, more time do I have?

Who am I? Am I, just what my name sounds? Am I, just the bones and flesh that I carry?  Why are we born? Why did I become what I’ve become?

Why do I think the way I think?

Why did I find myself in the surroundings that I find myself in?

These questions have never ever disturbed me as it does now. May be I was busy living, busy striving to meet expectations of people who gave birth to me, shaped me and my thought process, shaped my dreams and controlled my thoughts and everything about me and my existence.

That is another sad part of life.

I had no control on where I was born. Nobody gave me a choice to decide which family I must be born into.  I have siblings too. I never chose them and I don’t think even they know why we are together. Why were we bundled into the place we were? My memory doesn’t take me to a place or time or incident in this life or even the ones before where I had made this choice. (Thank God for small mercies, for if the choice had been given, the world would have been monotonous and we would have been inbreeding ourselves to extinction)

My dad’s economic and social standing decided what I ate, what I wore, what I saw, where I went and finally where I slept. Consequently my dreams and aspirations were directly or indirectly influenced. My very being was shaped by circumstances that I had no control over. My life’s ambitions, the way I thought, the way I perceived things around me and beyond me, the way I took happiness, sadness, the way I shared everything and even the horizons of my dreams were discreetly and indiscreetly influenced. So, I am, what I am with no control over myself or on what I have become.

What a pity! A living being with no control of his past, present or his future! The poor mighty man who rules the earth!!

Why do I have to work and feed others?  - Just because they are fellow travellers in this long journey? We don’t know when it started, and well, we don’t know where and when it will all end. Did they choose to travel with me? I am called a guardian to these fellow beings because one happens to be a lady who agreed to bring forth my children. Why that lovely lady agreed to be my mate is another matter of research, since for her I was a matter of conscious choice. What binds me to them and them to me? Each question, I ask begets an endless string of questions, which in turn begets a few more chains!!

Why do we meet people we meet- Just because they are born in a given place and time? Why do people behave the way they do? Why did I meet you? Who brought us together? Who decided that we must meet? Who decided we should travel together for a miniscule of time in this endless expanse of time and space? What is our business with each other?

Why do we like people we like? Why do we love people we love? What is the difference between “love” and “like”? What differentiates love and lust?

Is the entire process of living defined by the urge to have ones progeny roaming the earth in better surroundings happier healthier and safer? What is happiness? What is it that makes one feel safe? How do I decide what makes my children happy? If I don’t know that how do I know what I must do to make them happy? If wealth and cars and places made people happy no rich man would be unhappy!! In fact many of them need some kind of therapy to keep them even going. (The poor, may be, can’t afford it, so don’t feel the need).

So I didn’t know what my needs were. What I got, was given to me by my father’s wish, ignorant of my own wishes! I don’t know what my kids actually need and I give what I think will make them happy. May be they will like it, love it or just hate it. Is what I give them in their best interests? What are those things that are in their best interest? Confusing concentric circles!!

What happened to people who came before me and have gone from here? Where have they gone? Is there anyway I can contact them? If we can establish the path before birth to the scrotum of a male and the ovum of a female and study the entire process of foetal formation why can’t we study the entire path of death or life after life?

Who decides our fate?? (What is fate anyway??) Is there actually something called fate?

These are a few questions that have been haunting me for sometime. My quest to find answers would get me labelled mad or irresponsible since a full time pursuit of answers to these questions would involve relentless tireless endless search with nothing else in mind. If I immerse myself in that search, I stand the risk of starving, being stoned or being taken to a psychiatric asylum for the rest of my life. Since I am not unstable enough to merit clinical assistance, let me start my search slowly as it evolves without fear of starvation, without fear of being stoned and without being exiled.

I love this life a lot. I want to live. I want to live answering my questions. I want to live even after that

I will take each question as it comes, analyse it and try and find answers to the very best of my ability though, I know for sure it is limited in depth, range and hue. The questions are mine. The search is mine and naturally the answers are for me too. Yet if you too were faced with a similar situation, my fellow traveller, do find your way already travelled. You may find it easier. If you find something new do let me know too.

In a sea of questions I find myself drowned.

For answers to each within myself I searched

In a whirlpool of choices I find myself drowned

For elusive enlightenment within myself I searched