Diatribe

I was one of the invitees at a house-warming ceremony. The owners performed the rites under a shamiana that extended from the gate in front of the house to the back. Under its shade the owners served dinner to the invitees who ate in batches. I finished mine and found a place near the gate to relax and watch the people milling about. A ragamuffin appeared outside the gate just behind me. I saw him ogling at the diners. He soon launched into a diatribe. Mouthing expletives, the urchin vented out his ire at the abundance of food so close, and yet so far out of his reach. Someone from inside shouted to shoo him away. Only in an unjust world can abundance and scarcity live side by side? Karma justifies it, politics sustains it and the individual goes through hell.

Catch-22

The city traffic is a snarl in more ways than one. Every day at the same time on the same road it takes a different duration from point A to point B. While talking about it over a dinner, I said that since most people don’t stick to lanes but pan out and take up all available space it leads to the traffic woes we are used to. A lady in the gathering shot back: In India if you stick to the lane rules, you would definitely end up being late, or worst, perhaps never reach your destination. She had come back from the US for a short visit. I thought that it was a sure recipe for disaster. While it certainly ensured that only a few intrepid ones got their way, most people were going to be late anyway. And the accidents that have been on the rise tell a different tale. When a river flows out of its bounds, it is definitely going to wreak havoc.

Perspective

Two powerful bombs exploded one evening killing a score of people and maimed several in the city. Investigations by the police pointed to the handiwork of a terrorist group. For days after that the townsfolk felt shell-shocked and avoided popular haunts such as eateries and parks like the plague. One day I was traveling with a grand old man of some repute, who had held an important post in public relations. Naturally, the conversation turned to the recent man-made tragedy. The venerable granddad brooded for a while and asserted that one community had from the beginning a tendency to violence and that its effects were felt worldwide. “But terror has no religion,” I protested. Are we discussing the violent human mind, I wondered, or a particular form of violence, which inevitably leads to a biased perspective?

Tragedy

A great cyclonic storm was raging along the eastern coast. Back bays overflowed with sea water and inundated the hamlets and agricultural fields along the coastline, destroying lives and livestock. As news poured in of thousands perishing in what was regarded as the worst annual hurricane that battered the sea coast, a friend remarked with great satisfaction that it was so much better for this over-populated country. To him it was an act of purgation as the earth was much lighter now and none the worse for the loss of its lives. What was the real tragedy?

Status overshadows function

Today almost everybody owns a mobile phone. I was once talking to my boss, a wealthy Realtor from the South. On his desk he kept two mobile phones – one for personal use and the other for official purpose. Each gave a different ring tone so he could identify which one to pick up when a call came. When the personal phone rang, the lines on his face creased into a smile. He spoke in low tones and he became at once a father or a husband. When the official phone rang, however, he became serious, his tone took on a rather hard note and he was instantly the boss. Once he remarked, as he put down the official phone after an unsatisfactory conversation, that “every useless fellow now owns a mobile phone”. It no doubt seemed to him that the ubiquity of the mobile phone had somehow robbed the symbolic association of his stature as a successful Realtor to the electronic gadget that served his needs. Does a thing hold a value more than its function that even its maker is unaware of? Or, is the value addition an illusion of the user, unrelated to the maker?

Incongruous

We traveled hundreds of miles by train and bus to reach the village where people thronged by thousands year after year for a glimpse of a deity in a shrine that was probably as old as the hills that surrounded it. Feeling an urge to explore the place a bit, I walked down a dusty path that led away from the village to back and beyond… I went past small patchy dwellings that housed the millions of poor in the country side. Round a bend in the path I met a man carrying a stick. He had the demeanor of a man in defence, so I asked him why he was carrying a stick. To be prepared to defend himself from jackals, he told me, and that sent a tingling of fear down my being. As I walked further, a bit diffident now, I found the path was curving and leading into woods where every kind of tree, mostly tall and spread wide out, blotted out the sky, narrowing my vision to a few yards in front. I became conscious of a loud chattering of a thousand birds hidden among the trees. As I continued hesitantly on, the birds stopped chattering all of a sudden and stillness descended on the path. It sent a chill into my bones and unable to continue further I turned back and retraced my path, when the birds began chattering again in unison. I felt I was being watched and hurried on. As I came round the bend again I began to feel safe. I spotted some children playing in the sand near a mound that had holes and patches that looked like snake pits. I wondered about the safety of the poor children exposed as they were to the hazards of the wild. My sight roamed from the children to the path in front when I spied a snake meandering up the side. I froze and watched the black sinuous creature slithering up the side and now crossing my path. It had a shiny black skin with a head that made darting movements. It paid no attention to me. It was as though I never existed, for it went unhurriedly, crossed the path and went over the other side into a patchy hovel and disappeared. In the village humans and beasts lived side by side and an outsider like me, a city dweller, felt out of place. Does the city breed humans of a different kind?

Thinking in categories

It seems to me that we are always thinking in terms of categories of a thing, but not about the thing itself. Whenever there is a talk about something, the usual approach seems to be to talk about its categories, classifications, groups, types, kinds and so on. I am referring to the psychological matters here, the things that make up one’s psyche.

I shall give a few examples. Take habit for instance. The very word brings to mind good habits and bad habits. And the discussion usually revolves round what is a good habit and what is not. Going further, we want to know how to overcome bad habits and imbibe and sustain good habits. If we still go further, we talk about how to discipline oneself in order to get rid of the so-called bad habits. It is rarely the case when the discussion centers on habit per se and not on its various expressions which are laudable or condemnatory based on the social standards of the time.

To take another example, a religious discourse on the psychological attributes of the human mind talks about Gunas, the qualities that make up a personality. Immediately there follows a description of the various Gunas like Rajas, Tamas and Sattvik, and a method to overcome or transmute one into the other. But the question of Guna itself, the quality per se and not its expressions and classifications, is rarely addressed, if at all.

Take desire, goal, and even thought itself. The list is endless, but the treatment is the same. The question – what is thought? – is never addressed directly. Probably this is the most fundamental of all psychological issues and maybe the basis for understanding the psyche. Instead, the discussion degenerates into low thoughts, high thoughts, and transcendent thoughts and so on. Going further, there are usually recipes for controlling thoughts and going beyond thought is usually the lofty goal.

What is this urge to categorize? Is it the inability to address the issue directly? There is no doubt that categories do exist, but why is it that the discussion almost invariably is about them and not about the thing itself? Is it that the mind cannot comprehend anything except by breaking it down into categories?

Science builds knowledge through categorization. Whatever it studies must be classified, grouped, and typed and so on. Perhaps this tendency is carried over into the psychological realm?

It is said that the mind is a measure of all things. Its capacity to measure, compare, contrast, classify is perhaps at the root of all thinking? While this capacity has lifted mankind from the bullock cart to the jet plane, the psychological problems have remained much the same since the ancient times. Perhaps this approach through categorization is inadequate or even inappropriate in dealing with the issues of the psyche.

Sunshine

It was a sunny morning with a pleasant October breeze. I came out of the house, fresh and neatly dressed, and looked forward to the picnic that was arranged by friends. I strolled down the street breathing in the morning freshness when suddenly, within a couple of feet from where I was, I chanced upon a girl, maybe in her teens, who was coming up in the opposite direction. As we crossed each other, we smiled broadly and unreservedly in a spontaneous greeting. The sun, the smile and the morning freshness was intoxicating. Then we passed each other by. A few feet down the street a friend accosted me and inquired: “Who was that girl? Do you know her?” “No”, I said and shrugged my shoulders. “I never saw her before.” And I never saw her again. Spontaneity cannot be arranged; it just happens and that brings the sun into our life.

That notorious fallacy about human memory being short

It is short on the surface and long underneath. Every experience and event in our lives, whether in the neighborhood or abroad, leaves a mark on our psyche. We may not be aware of it, but the brain lives by association and it records everything as a matter of routine. It may not be possible for us to recollect the details exactly, but our reactions to people, places and events are all based on these recordings, which we call memories. We may exhort to rise above our prejudices of race, caste and culture; but when we meet a stranger, a foreigner or a person whom we hate or love, we react in a certain way. That very reaction occurs from deep-seated memories from the forgotten past. The brain, having taken millennia to evolve into what it is today, is not restricted to memories of this life alone. The memories of ancient past control our behavior as much as our experiences in the daily life. Human memory is quite long indeed.

Can we teach morals?

Teachers, elders, philosophers, storytellers, poets and preachers - all have been teaching morals for centuries. But we humans continue to be violent, competitive, aggressive, envious and greedy; there have been exceptions of course, who merely serve to prove the rule. There are, in fact, social sanctions to support these things - violence is justified when we go to war; competition is encouraged, which is to do better than the other and so leads to aggression (how can you love thy neighbour when you want to 'kill' him through competition?); envy is glorified (neighbour's envy is owner's pride) and greed is ennobled when you justify ‘the more…’. Morality, like virtue, cannot be practiced, nor can it be cultivated through teaching or following a set of principles. It cannot be a habit. You can't be moral or virtuous on one occasion and be the complete opposite on another. Morality is not what the world approves or disapproves. It must be something that goes with the very nature of all things and all life around us. It is perhaps having the right relationship to things, people and ideas. We can understand the consequences of our own actions and those of others vicariously and keep out of mischief and that alone perhaps leads to morality which expresses itself in acts of virtue.

Why I want to write

It is a question I have often asked myself but the urge to write remained a vague yearning until now. I decided to confront this question head-on and allow it to unfold itself little by little until I am sufficiently sure about why I want to write.

I have been a reader since I was a teenager and like most people began with action thrillers, detective fiction, classics and then finally graduated to non-fiction that touched upon many subjects as diverse as environment and spirituality. However, throughout all this period which covered something under two score years, the yearning to write remained like an undercurrent, never coming out in full blast, nor dying out like a burning candle. The urge to write gnawed at my being and now after having lived with it for so long, I want it out. I want to be a writer as well, not just to be content with reading other people’s writings.

Through writing I hope to say things that I cannot do so by speaking. When I speak about something I strongly feel about, very few people allow me talk freely. I am often interrupted and my thoughts lose the thread of what I am talking about. While speaking, I seem to rush with my thoughts for fear of being interrupted and I don’t get a chance to develop my ideas slowly and progressively. It so happens that whenever I speak about something I state conclusions first which perhaps puts people off and I don’t get to defend my conclusions. When I write, I have complete control over what I have to say and in a manner appropriate to the idea I want to put forward. I can take time over it and present my ideas more clearly, cogently and make my point thoroughly.

I want to write perhaps more for being known as a writer than because I have a great many things to say. This is not to affirm that I have very little to say, but once when I start saying about something the words come out on paper better and more easily than from the mouth. It is important to me that I am regarded as a writer for two reasons: It makes me feel that people give more attention to a writer than to someone who has ideas but has not been acknowledged as someone who knows more than the others. I myself regard writers as people with a lot of knowledge about the world and know a lot about people in general. I give more importance to the written word, as most people do, than to something that has been said or overheard casually. Even people who have the knack of talking do not impress me so much as writers do. My aspiration to be a writer is precisely for this reason. That said, I must confess that I have very few things to write about. But that does not deter me from wanting to write and wishing to be known as a writer.

I do have some ideas that I want to write about. I want to write about things that have been generally accepted, which don’t really justify our inordinate acceptance of them. Some myths we live by are among the things I would like to write about. We have accepted symbols of all kinds, from religion to science. This is another idea that I want to pursue and show how they affect us in daily life. I also want to continue this idea into writing itself and reveal through examples the power of the written word. These ideas are beginning to take shape in my mind and the research into them is strengthening my point of view. I am looking forward to writing all these ideas down. I am keeping some notes, writing a little and reading a lot to bring the subjects into focus. So I do have things to say and I am going to write about them.

I am prepared to take the rough road ahead for becoming a writer. In my case, it means taking a path that is entirely different from my current occupation. Most writers have passed through some rigorous writing course, have struggled hard to put pen to paper and have become successful in the end. Very few are gifted and I don’t belong there; nevertheless, I am willing to persevere and not lose any opportunities for writing through hard work. I have set myself some targets like writing every day, writing a thousand words on any topic of interest to me and browsing the books or the web that deal with writing. I may not be able to meet the target every day, but I have determined to undertake this task without fail. I know that I learn things the hard way; they don’t come easy, not for me at least. To change over from my current occupation as a software developer to a full time career in writing demands a great deal of study and work and I am willing to put in as much effort as I must to make the transition a success.

I don’t know much about writing styles, save some vague ideas I picked up from my extensive, though discursive, reading over many years. I wonder what style I must adopt for the kind of things I want to write about. It is becoming clear to me that my temperament and outlook determines the style. I ask myself several questions and found myself wanting in some areas. Am I a serious person? Can I tell a joke? Am I capable of drawing and sustaining another’s attention when I am talking? Do I care about the listener’s sensibility? Am I observant of my surroundings? Am I sensitive to the feelings of another and my own? Can I describe a scene clearly and sufficiently to evoke a response from the reader? I think it is not a matter of copying a style from a book or devising one of my own; but I think style is something that comes out as I write things in my own words and not rely on clichés. The style I think then becomes an expression of my personality. Surely, I couldn’t write a hilarious piece of comedy when I am by temperament a serious person; nor could I present a balanced view of things if my outlook on life were laced with frustration and grouse. So I leave style to express itself through my writing.

I must of course attempt different forms of writing if I want to make a business out of it. There are, I gather, different forms of writing such as the narration, the description and the exposition. A narrative relies heavily on the ability to tell a tale. I don’t know if I can tell a story, though I attempted a couple of short stories. The dialogue presentation is a problem for me; though I think and speak in English most of the time, when it comes to writing a dialogue I get stymied, for getting the right conversational tone is to me extremely difficult. The descriptive form of writing requires a clear depiction of scenes which the user can relate through his or her senses. The writer describes from his observation the many details in the scene which the reader is therefore able to re-construct in his mind: the vividness of a scene described is directly proportional to the visual images evoked in the reader. Am I so observant as to be able to describe something with lucidity? The third form of writing, namely the exposition, demands illustrating my point of view with several examples until the reader is convinced that what I am saying has a value that is worth his or her consideration. It is this last form that I am attempting in my writings now.

I want to make writing as my profession not only because I have some things to say, but also because I want to earn money and live by it. Now there are two things to consider: the things I want to say are not unique in themselves; and writing for money does not mean I will write anything to please the publisher or the casual reader. I cannot write about a thing unless I feel strongly for or against it. I feel I can write only when I feel so. Therefore, I can’t be a mere peddler of words, playing to the gallery, so to speak, just because I need money to live. I want to become a serious professional and write with two things in mind: write creatively and write passionately, giving my point of view unabashedly even if it goes against the current.

I am perhaps somewhat ambitious too, for I think my real worth will be established if I am accepted as a writer. I am terribly concerned about my own worth and I am constantly looking for it in the way people greet me or talk to me. I have perhaps somewhat low esteem of myself and I think it will be a tremendous boost to my ego that I will be after all a writer and nobody will have any business to disparage me or question my worth.

I suppose the topic question has been sufficiently addressed and the raison d’etre for wanting to write has come out the way I wanted to. I pat my back and say to myself: Onward-ho!

Living in the shadow of specialists

Specialists rule our lives and we submit to them completely. We regard them as beacon lights. They are our saviors, our torch bearers, our leaders. We have specialists in every walk of life; from the cradle to the grave they are around to tell us what to do and what not to do. For example, you are tired and need to relax. You ask, 'How do I relax? I feel so bored.' And along comes the specialist in fun and entertainment. You give yourself over to the monkeys on the screen; they tickle your fancies, whet your appetites, live your dreams and fantasies and at the end of a couple of hours in which you forgot yourself, your boredom and your tiredness, they leave you none the wiser or more spirited than you were before it. And then there are counselors for your job, your career; if you have trouble with your spouse you have those who will tell you what to do and how you must live your life with your partner, with your babies, and with your bosses. We have specialists of all kinds; we are told what soap to buy, what perfume to splash on our body, what rouge to apply on the face and what color of hair you must have.

Why are we so dependent on the specialists? "The specialist knows; I don't know." Yes, of course. The scientist tells me about the nature of the earth; the doctor cures me of my illness; the barber cuts my hair; the banker keeps my money safe; the builder knows how to construct a house for me. True. All these specialists are certainly required by all of us. Life without them is unthinkable. From ancient times, ever since we formed and lived in societies, we needed them - the traders, the craftsmen and so on. But, surely, we are not talking about them at all. The specialists we are talking about are of a different kind. They stimulate your urges and appetites; they tell you what you should think and do; they tell you what you should read; what you should wear; how you should behave; what you should become. In the temple, the priest dictates. In the market place, the advertiser guides you about what to buy. The clothes we wear must come from a well-known designer, even if it costs you a fortune. "Wear your attitude", they tell you, whatever that means I am unable to fathom. They tell you how you should live your life; how you should build your personality. We cheerfully submit to their ministrations and injunctions and allow ourselves to be led easily. And easy as it is to follow somebody than to think for ourselves, we depend on them.

Why has the specialist become so important to us? Are we so gullible enough that we are easily carried away by the specialist's mumbo jumbo? Have they robbed us of our thinking, put to sleep our intellect and made us incapable of handling our own lives? Why are we, like sheep, easily led, as it were, by the entertainers, the beauticians, the couturiers, the counselors, the consultants and the shrinks? We have made our life a second-hand affair, for we constantly repeat what this, that or the other specialist has said. The scribes tell us how to handle news, what opinions we must have, what we must do or not do in a given situation and generally fill our minds with inconsequential things that we use to endlessly debate amongst ourselves.
In matters of the spirit, the Guru is the lord; he leads and we follow; he pontificates and we accept; he shows the way and we tread the path. The Gurus have set up shops all over the world; they spread their wares and invite us to buy; they mesmerize us with words and we get carried away; they make us sit quietly, dance to their tunes, laugh at their jokes and above all, like the entertainers, make us forget for a few hours our problems.

What is it precisely that the specialist offers? He offers a way to escape from the routine and the boredom of life. He adjures you to be different and yet how can a product of specialization be different? He tells you what is ‘in’, what it means to be modern and what fashion you must chase. He espouses the common, the uniform and the accepted. The outsider is bad business for him and so he advocates conformity – to an ideal, to a standard. He has a formula for success, at any rate that is what he is selling; it is his USP – the universal selling point of his success.

But, of course, we are all in this game and no one to blame. We are both the exploiters and the exploited. For, the specialists are the same as those who depend on them. It is just a matter of roles we play. As a specialist you are the exploiter and as the ordinary man looking up to the specialist, you are the exploited. You may be a specialist in your chosen field, but in other matters you are once again at the receiving end.

Does maturity come with age and experience?

Every living thing grows physically, matures by a certain age and finally decays. This is an irrevocable fact of life. But can the same be applied to the mind, unlike the brain which is bound by the physical laws of nature? Unlike that of the body, the maturity of the mind does not grow incrementally. It cannot be measured: it has no quantity, no unit of measurement. Maturity can and does express itself at any age: the aged have no monopoly over it. Old people do not exhibit it as a rule; they are only more cautious in their approach, having taken many a beating in the past. Maturity is not simply having past experiences as a guide; but perhaps intelligently responding to the ever changing situations without the burden of the past.

Perfect relationship is a myth

Perfection refers to completion - like a finished product. A thing can be fashioned after a model and completed by a process to achieve a desired end. A relationship is all the time changing based on the experiences over which we have no control. For the same reason it cannot have a goal; it is like a living thing, changing from moment to moment, and any attempt to coerce it in some direction invites resistance. There can never be perfection in a relationship since it is not something that can be molded through a formula or a method. There is no process by which you eventually arrive at a pre-determined state. All we can do perhaps is to shed our ideas, conclusions and beliefs about it and meet it afresh every moment.