Our daughters call up while
travelling to work in the morning and on their journey home. It is a daily
ritual. In the morning, I always ask, “Child, how is the day coming up?” In the
evening, I ask, “How was the day?” Between the two questions and their answers,
we quickly cover the essentials. My wife gets longer talk time with the girls.
At times they call at the same time. Then, my wife and I either switch phones
or use the conference facility. Technology has made staying connected easy. We
catch up on each other’s day through our daily calls. Sometimes, the discussion
can turn serious.
“Dad, is it because I was
raised as an Army child or the nomadic imprint in my DNA, I feel restless
staying in one place for long. I yearn to move places?” That kickstarted the
day.
“Child, maybe both,” I
replied. “Deep within us, there must be remnant imprints of early mankind’s
nomadic DNA. Although Homo Sapiens emerged 300,000 years ago as nomads in
Africa it has been just about 10,000 years since we gave up nomadism and opted
for the sedentary way of life. I believe wheat and rice enslaved and tethered
us to the fertile plains near the Great Rivers.”
I gave her time to soak in
what I was saying. I also wanted to collect and organise my thoughts. I was
sure she had more questions lined up.
“I believe, it is the
compelling presence of that nomadic trait in our DNA that keeps Tourism afloat.
The same trait must be triggering us to move places for better avenues. Isn’t
immigration an evolved form of nomadism?” she did not answer, but I knew she
was listening. “You are an army child and grew up travelling, moving, and
living in many places. Nomadism cannot be dormant in your case. It is okay to
feel restless.” I gave her time to absorb what I had said and continued.
“Just like imbalance spurs
continuity in a chemical equation, the uncertainty and restlessness we
experience spur movement, growth, and progress. Consider your restlessness as
an internal trigger. Keep adding knowledge, skill sets and competencies to expand
the horizon that envelops you.”
The silence at the other end
now was louder than the sound of the autorickshaw she was travelling in and
even the blaring horns of the vehicle passing by. I knew something else
was brewing.
“Dad, what is the purpose of
our lives? I just cannot figure out mine,” she said. “What was yours?” she
asked.
I laughed aloud and said,
“Terrible ways genes get passed on.” I knew I could not laugh her question
away. My mind was fast at work. I had to come up with an answer. Even as
children they asked many questions, even uncomfortable ones. I took pains to
answer them. There were times when I sat with them and went through the
encyclopaedia. My own life held the answer to her latest question.
I had grappled with the same
question at various stages in my life. Each time I had come up with different
answers. As a youngster who was, not doing very well at school, I wanted to be
an achiever someday. Achievers had good jobs, were financially independent,
owned cars and were respected. I secured a good job early in life but the
euphoria vanished soon. Circumstances can be compelling if not overwhelming. I
had willingly shouldered a lot of responsibilities. Ironically, my life’s sole
purpose was to fulfil those first and thereafter live a carefree life and die
with a song on my lips. Driven by the desire to be relevant I made a decision
that landed me in serious trouble. In the gravest situation, I found myself
disowned. When I rescued myself and found the will to live on, I changed
course, married a lovely girl and promptly forgot about the purpose of life.
A medical emergency forced me
to see life differently. As a young husband and father of two girls, I wrote
down ten things to do before I die. Most of them were to ensure a safe
future for my wife and children. Over the next few years, I achieved nine out
of those ten. I gave up on the tenth one. As time flew, I crossed fifty and
rose in the hierarchy to become a one-star general. I wanted to leave behind “footprints
on the sands of time” and worked hard towards it. I was officially chosen
as the mentor for the department and I was convinced I had a strong trail of
footprints behind me. People called up to know my views on professional matters
when I was in service. Many called seeking my intervention in their private
matters and I could help. It continued for a while even after I retired. Soon,
the numbers fell and then stopped altogether. Some good-hearted folks still
call up on my birthday or anniversary. The footprints I thought I had left had
been washed away. I do not grudge contemporary footprints over mine, for that
should be the norm. With plenty of time to stare at my empty nest, one day I
sat down to restate my life’s purpose. Past 65, what should be the purpose of
my life?
An honest evaluation of the
situation revealed that my wife could, live well without me, once she gets the
hang of the mundane things I now claim I do. My children, well placed, need
neither my advice nor support. I found myself saddled with a sense of purposelessness.
It dawned on me that all through my life, I had only been setting goals, and
proudly calling the long-term ones, my life’s purpose. They helped me chart a
course moored to the value systems I had internalised. It also ensured I
retracted when I strayed. Yet they were merely the desired destinations in
time. They also gave my existence a sense of exclusivity. It mattered only to
me. No one else saw and felt the halo around me. It took me 65 years to realise
that, shorn of that self-ordained exclusivity, life’s purpose had no
meaning.
Has anyone ever heard of the
mighty lion setting goals, or living to fulfill his life’s purpose? Has anyone
ever heard the Redwood tree (Sequoia sempervirens) or the Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga
menziesii) broadcasting, from the skies above, how much of their life’s
purpose has been achieved? Imagine, left alone both the species easily live very long. There are known cases where some redwood trees reached the age of 2000 and some Douglas Firs lived more than 1000 years!
We are just one of the billions of species on the earth. We have self-assigned a special place amongst other inhabitants and think we are at the top of the food chain. While that notion may provide a sense of superiority, we are hopelessly dependent on all the other species for survival. Pitted one-on-one against other species, we are utterly defenceless and fare badly in survival capabilities. Yes, our ability to fantasise, imagine, record them, and pursue our dreams to fulfilment sets us apart. Setting goals does help but evaluating one’s life on the number of goals achieved may turn detrimental to happiness. Focussed on destinations and committed to quantifying life’s journey we deprive ourselves of the beauty of the journey called life. We must set goals to pursue but not at the cost of living happily.
Knowing that time is not on my side anymore, and with no pressure to prove anything to anyone including me, I try to make every moment full and happy. I have learned to be patient, and forgiving. Call it age-gifted wisdom, now I let things be and have trained myself to draw positives even from toxic people and situations. I have lived the last seven years without any purpose in life. Yet, I authored two books, wrote for newspapers, published many articles, trained corporate executives, spoke at events, and even became a director in a technology start-up. I love travelling. I deploy my savings and earnings to enjoy life. I stretch every minute and every penny to soak in the maximum. If I had to pen down my life's achievements, I could do it in one sentence. "My wife and I brought into this world, two children whom we groomed to be independent, capable, compassionate and contributing members of the society." Everything else was incidental. I summed up my 65 years to her.
“Dad, does that mean doing
good, bad, and evil make no difference in life? If short-term gains define our
happiness, what incentivises being good to others? Are we not back to the ways
of the jungle? What is life without a purpose?”
She had been listening to
every word I spoke. I wanted to ask her if something was wrong, but I desisted.
She demanded an answer, and I had to give it, to the best of my abilities and
without counterquestions.
“Child, we are getting mixed
up between the means and the end. Imagine eating from a dirty plate with dirty
hands when we have the option of eating with clean hands and from a clean
plate. The choice rests with us.”
We live with the mistaken
notion that having travelled far from the jungle, we have become civilised.
Animals kill for the right to eat and mate and nothing more than that. The
hierarchy within a pride or herd revolves around these two elements. Animals also
kill to foreclose competition. Humans kill for different reasons and with
far-reaching consequences. Most pogroms across the globe started as someone’s
life’s purpose. The ‘by any means’ school of thought justifies means
with the ends. I hold a different belief system. My happiness and growth have
not been at the cost of someone else’s right to life or opportunity. I feel I
am more content than many of my competitors.
Success and failures are part
of life. Whatever we may accumulate or achieve accompanies us for a short time.
The euphoria of success wears out very fast. Even our name and fame do not last
long. In the long run, we all are dead and forgotten for sure. Public memory is
infamously short and easily manipulated. When regimes change, history gets
rewritten, heroes are branded villains and villains get glorified as heroes.
Nothing is static. Absolutely nothing should be taken for granted. We must be
led by our moral compass and how that compass adapts to our immediate
surroundings is a choice we must make. Happiness is something we must find
within us. We do it by the choices we make and choices differentiate
people.
“Something to ponder over,”
she said.
“Yes; something for all of us
to ponder over,” I replied.
