An Unlikely Waiting Room
It was not like any other day!
I was just one amongst others seated,
keenly watching the digital screen indicating the progress of operations in the
theatre[1]. It was not a waiting room by
any standards but a landing on the second-floor doubling up as space for
sitting and for people to board or alight from the lift. Rows of metal chairs
were the only comfort there. Each one was occupied. If at all anyone got up,
there was someone ready to take it. Hardly anyone got up.
The chairs were inseparably
welded together, three of them to a set. Each of us sitting on them,
though together in anxiety, were on our own, individually struggling to fend
off our own demons! I too sat, with nothing but worry on
my mind.
All those sitting there also
had someone dear, either being operated upon, in one of the eight OTs or
waiting for their chance to be wheeled in. There were a few, whose loved ones
had been shifted to the post-operative room. Obviously, they seemed to look better!
Many people passed by us climbing the flight of stairs up or down while dozens pushed themselves into the lifts even before those inside came out. Burdened with their own worries, they were engrossed in their mission, oblivious to our plight. Many would have even wondered why we were waiting in front of the lifts without even attempting to board it.
The green wrist bands on our hands declared that we were all covid free. We were not tension free. The N-95 masks we wore, hid our faces well. It couldn’t hide our eyes, dead giveaways. Each one seemed to have settled on the means to manage their own fears. Two kept wiping their tears and the equally burdened neighbours attempted to console them. Most immersed themselves in solitude, eyes fixed on the screen, hung above, as if they were witnessing the operation live. Few sought divine support, fervently pushing beads or just mummering prayers to their Gods. Few like me, chose to whisper to the person sitting next. The air was thick with anxiety.
The Lifts
With hours to push and unbearable anxiety
to unload, the middle-aged man sitting next to me, like me, wanted to talk. We spoke of everything under
the sun. In the course of our conversation, I told him that I used to be a
two-star general in the army.
There was no response from him for a while.
I understood that he was struggling to digest my claim. In an age where everyone is seeking to be a VIP flaunting designations, past glory, connections or references to demand and obtain preferential treatment, how could a real general be one in the crowd? To him, it would have seemed that I was pulling a fast one.
I am now used to such silences and the questions that follow in different forms. “If you are a retired general, why aren't you getting VIP treatment?” It was a straightforward response.
I smiled and pointed to the two lifts in front of us, impersonally loading and unloading people, few walking, others on wheel chairs or in stretchers pushed by attendants.
“Is anyone even looking at us?” I asked. "No”, he replied.
"Do we know who they are and why they are here?" I asked. "No”, he replied.
Then I told him the story of
the ‘invisible’ violinist and the ‘fused bulb’.
The Invisible Violinist
12
January 2007, another busy day in Washington, D.C.
A man stood in the L’Enfant Plaza subway station playing his violin, its case laid open so that passers-by could throw in money. In the 40 odd minutes, over a thousand people passed by. Very few took note of him. Few, tossed coins without even looking at him. He collected $32.17 dollars, of which $20 is said to have been given by one who recognised him.
Joshua Bell played, on his handcrafted 1713 Stradivarius violin, reportedly costing $3.5
million, six classical pieces, two
of which were by Bach. The week before, he had performed to a sold-out audience.
How did Joshua Bell become invisible?
Despite being famous, why did people not recognise him?
Why didn’t people stop and listen to him?
The answer lies in understanding
the ‘relevance - reference’ window.
Relevance the Visibility Factor
To a commuter, burdened with daily life complexities, rushing to catch the metro, how relevant is a violinist, playing in a corner of the platform?
However famous the violist maybe, he is
irrelevant. He might be playing the best of compositions on the most exquisite
violin; it doesn’t matter. The more relevant someone or something is to an
individual, more liked, feared or visible it becomes to him. Joshua Bell could
have certainly missed the applause, if not adulation, but the commuters certainly had
other priorities. Joshua Bell was invisible.
Charity?
Why did people toss coins into an invisible Mr Bell's violin case?
People give alms as a matter
of practice. It’s an acquired habit, a religious practice, or even presumably an
inner call of good, to help a needy fellow being. It’s more of a compulsive act
than genuine concern or involvement. One doesn’t need to identify the person or
his problem to help. Rarely anyone stops to find lasting solutions. The street
performer’s ‘relevance’ to the passers-by was restricted purely to meet this
point of reference. To those who tossed coins, his relevance was only in terms
of fulfilling the charity call, definitely not music.
Why would anyone in their
right senses give alms to Joshua Bell?
Reference the Visibility
Assistant
If the event was promoted or advertised and if commuters knew that Mr Bell was performing free, there could have been a stampede. If a stage had been set up on the platform or beamers and posters promoting Bell’s concert was around, many would have stayed on to watch him. If students from the local violin school were at the station, they would have stayed on to study him.
For an everyday commuter, without any such reference there is no difference between a celebrity and a man trying to make ends meet. Recognition needs reference.
Relevance - Reference Combo
Each one of us has a ‘moving
reference frame’ that helps us focus on what is existentially important. It
helps our brain declutter and focus. Our likes, dislikes, aspirations, anxieties and emotions play significant role in developing and deploying our ‘frame’ depending on the situation. Relevance of a person or thing in
relation to the ‘frame of reference’ in context dictates its importance.
The public display of respect
shown by people to senior government functionaries stems from this relevance
- reference frame. In most cases it lasts only till the individual holds the
appointment. People deliberately flaunt connections and drop names in
conversations with the aim of establishing or reinforcing their
position in the relevance-reference frame. For many, devoid of stuff of their
own, such act serves as lifelines.
A veteran, doesn’t naturally
occupy compelling presence in the relevance- reference frame of the hospital. If I had the recognised potential to be of detriment
or promote the hospital’s existence or growth, I would have easily been a
relevant pixel in its frame. In that case, without my asking, they might have
found me and offered me preferential treatment. Otherwise, I should have
secured the required reference to be of importance.
Electric bulbs[2] have a lesson or two!
Glorious Days
Contemporary lives are
incomplete without electric bulbs! They come in different shapes and sizes. Bulbs have
even turned smart, switching on and off on their own! Switched on, they light
up in glory. It’s the bulb that brings out the beauty of its shade. It dispels
darkness and reassures everyone. But all that happens, only if it is
functional. Safe in the shade, bulb is valuable only
if it can light up. All bulbs eventually burn out. The owner is free to replace the existing one, even if it is functional. Even relationships are like that.
Entrusted or Entitled
Designations and positions in organisations are responsibilities entrusted and not entitlements. They are the shades we associate ourselves with. Importance enjoyed holding these positions belongs to one, only by association. Authority, power and indispensability one experiences as well as eternal continuance one hopes for, are illusions of grandeur, fleeting myth. They have to be given up some time in life. We can glorify positions we hold by our actions. Those very designations may even shield us from our shortcomings and flaws. Sadly, it’s not an eternal relationship.
Sometime in life, however high
or mighty one might be, one has to make way. However well we are doing or have
done, there comes a day when either we can’t do it anymore or we are not
required to and therefore make way for somebody else. It is a natural process. For every waxing
phase there is a waning one. Earlier this truth is accepted and internalised, better
it is. Life becomes that much more peaceful.
Without the authority and
position, as reference depletes, the number of people recognising and finding
relevance in the person, who once held sway, depletes. Unfortunately, it’s a
reinforcing cycle where depletion increases geometrically as time progresses arithmetically.
Shifting Spotlights
Who doesn’t like preferential treatment?
Who doesn’t want to be eternally revered?
But it doesn’t happen so.
While in office or at the helm of affairs, the spotlight could be on us. People know us. In that environment, we may continue to be recognised for some time. Little later, we might need to introduce ourselves. The spotlight has to shift.
Both, Alexander the great and King Porus, rest between the same book's cover. History is continually being made. "Old order changeth yielding place to new"[3] Accept the truth with dignity that, the 'one- and-only - one' soon becomes just 'one amongst many'. Earlier one realises, better it is.
I saw the screen change. The status read, "Operation Completed". Then I heard someone shout, "Who is with 'xxxx' ? "Please come here".
I picked up my bag and got up to leave.
As an afterthought, I opened my wallet, took out my calling card and gave him one. As he was scanning my card, I said, "Thank you for the company. Do keep in touch".
The mask hid his face as he shook his head. I didn't miss the change in his eyes. Was it belief or disbelief?
