Blasting the walls of truth

 

“Cover your head when you enter the temple!’” or “Go touch your grandmother’s feet!” or “Don’t slouch!” the list is endless. It really was irksome as a teenager. The list of dos were as long as the list of don’ts! Unfortunately, I belonged to a generation of non-rebellious teenagers (there were exceptions!) so I normally did try to tick of the list of dos, though honestly I did not tick off many items on the don’ts list.

I am sure (Though I was unaware) My children went through that phase and were heavily irritated with me. I don’t know what it is that makes young adults (especially young adults who are new parents!) think that they are here to rule the world. Both the young and the old must listen to their views and tirades.

I distinctly remember thinking that children must obey parents (forgetting that I was once that disgruntled child!) I also recall chiding my mother for mispronouncing words or making it a point to correct my father about some item in the news or his perspective about a certain subject.

It began sometime when I turned twenty and this state of affairs continued all through my thirties and early forties. Then suddenly something clicked in my psyche, and I became an adult adult!

Doubts started creeping in as to the veracity of my perceptions. Is truth the most important thing? Is a lie not another aspect of truth? Where does the gray world triumph? Is black and white the absolute authenticity? Are the lines drawn by society the only way to survive?

Truth is important, for it exists and lie is a creative outlet of our desires maybe another facet of truth. But is it every human being’s responsibility to reinforce their ideals? Is it really necessary to hurt someone while trying to do so (believe me you are doing that when you try and correct someone’s perception!) does it matter how we pronounce ‘potato’? (…. a rose by any other name…)

If you look at nature broadly there are no black or white, there is colour everywhere and even the shadows are gray. Love and hate are there but so is like, admiration, intolerance and mild detest. We do tend to forget the mild emotion which are there like undercurrents in a deep river and focus on the eddies of love and hate which are only on the surface. They are short lived and transient; weak and ineffective; slow and ineffectual. I realized then that the passion that drove me to rectify the world was actually a zealous desire to shout out “Hey! I am right and the rest of you are wrong! It is best that you accept this, or I will ride rough shod over you and crush you and your ideas to a pulp!”

When civilization was born, it was obviously an effort by mankind to separate us from animals. Rules were made, lines were drawn, and we congratulated ourselves that we were superior beings and thus must live under control. Our mind must be the master and bodies, and emotion must be subservient. Passions and desire must be muzzled and leashed and only what looked right must be allowed to surface and every other aspect must be thrust deep into the pit of inequity and kept there for eternity.

Yet, the more I think about it, the more I realize that civilization did not erase our instincts; it merely taught us how to disguise them. We continue to be driven by pride, envy, love, and fear, but now they are clothed in etiquette, in ritual, in the language of “ought to” and “should.” What once was a raw growl has become a polite disagreement, but the energy behind it is the same. Perhaps that is why we spend so much of our lives policing one another with lists of dos and don’ts, because it reassures us that we are “civilized,” that we are in control, when in truth we are only arranging the furniture on a restless sea.

And yet, there is beauty in this struggle. Rules, rituals, and corrections are not only burdens; they are also bridges. “Touch your grandmother’s feet” is more than a command, it is an invitation to connect with the generations before us. “Don’t slouch” may sound like criticism, but it is also a reminder that the body reflects the mind, that presence matters. Even my own exasperating need to correct my parents was, in its own way, a clumsy attempt at connection, I wanted to be heard, to matter, to prove I had a place in the world.

Now, when I watch my children bristle at my advice—or when I catch myself biting back the urge to lecture, I smile. I know the cycle continues. Each generation learns the hard way that truth is less about winning arguments and more about living with kindness in the grey spaces. Black and white make for neat lines, but it is in the shades between that relationships survive, that love softens pride, and that wisdom grows.

Maybe that is what it means to finally become an “adult adult”, to stop seeking victory in every exchange and to begin seeking harmony. To recognize that sometimes the greatest truth is not in speaking, but in listening.

 

 

 

Age filled Wisdom and Youthful Energy

“The Sixties are the new forties” screamed a headline and I, with a lot of interest, poured into the fine print and read the whole article with a lot of curiosity in a very short time. It’s the time, they said, when we are at our most stable, both emotionally and financially (Why that makes it the forties is questionable!). What I understood at the end was that the human race is socially becoming younger- physically fitter, economically secure and emotionally stronger.

If we are to believe this, then what do the fifties mean? Does it mean it’s the new thirties? I am curious… the thirties for me was the busiest time, children growing up, financial constraints, managing limited resources and trying to save for the future! Yes, I was physically fit and emotionally strong. The forties ushered in an era of relaxation. The usual stress of future, children and saving continues to play hide and seek but I am emotionally more mature and able to deal with them without breaking down (most of the time!)

As I inch towards the fifties, I wonder if I will go back to my thirties era where life was so busy that we never had time to take a laid-back holiday. (Holidays were meticulously planned and executed!) Holidays were in fact another event in our activity filled lives. Now the children are almost grown up. In a couple of years they will be totally independent and living their own lives. Then what happens? After living a life of twenty-five years of juggling finances, children, education, money, parents, time, resources… then what?

For the first time in my life, I went for a holiday where I was mostly in charge with my newly turned adult offspring. Though I did not arrange for everything I still had the responsibility to execute the whole trip. I really was looking forward to the break and I had decided I was going to “chill out”. I would not follow any itinerary, would take one day at a time and let my muscles just relax and lose its tautness. My neurons just fall down limply and get entangled amongst each other and soothe my over active brain.

We reached my beautiful mountains. As I breathed in the clear mountain air of Kathmandu after the smog filled streets of Mumbai, I felt I was as close to heaven as possible. The drive to the resort was a disappointment- the roads were as jam packed as Mumbai with horrible roads and the air beyond the airport filled with dust of the million constructions that were happening in the city.

After twenty minutes of driving we entered the forest resort. It was another world by itself! Verdant and lush, the foliage of the trees were dust free and glistening like it had just rained a while ago. My lungs took in gulps of fresh mint-tinged mountain air and I forgot all my disappointment of the city.

But our plans of "just relaxing" went for a toss! The mountain air tossed out the tiredness and we wanted to plan the stay and see as much as possible! In a trice we freshened up and went to the reception and planned out our days. The following days were filled with activities and allowing our senses take in the sight and sound of a new country. Though it was very similar to our culture, the pristine truth that is reflected in this mountain kingdom has been lost from our culture for centuries.

The highlights were our mountain flight and visit to the monasteries. The mountain flight took me as close to serenity, beauty and God as it will ever be possible. The Monasteries were another world all together!

The stupas which dot the kingdom still retain the peace and tranquillity of all Buddhist teaching. The monasteries are beautifully decorated and the tonsured monks who inhabit them emit an aura of gentleness and knowledge that has to be seen to be believed. The bright red and orange robes are in direct contrast to the peace and tranquillity of their countenance.

As I watched the elaborately dressed monks perform the rituals in front of the fire, I wondered what makes them tick. What does it take to give up all worldly pleasures and what convinces them to follow the hard life of a monk? What drives them to believe in age old rituals? Is it true that this life is only a stopgap period before we reach our maker and eternal bliss?

We might have a busier life in the fifties then our grandparents did but we are definitively not regressing towards our thirties as the article suggests. Why should I feel I am in my thirties? The ignorance and the hectic life is not what I look forward to. To be at peace with one’s body and mind is what age has taught us, why should I go through the whole process of acceptance again? I see young parents struggling to bring up their children, fighting for space and peace, struggling to outdo the others in their battle for survival… I am out of that now! The pleasures of parenting is wonderful- whatever the age of the child. Once a parent, forever parents till you die!

Though my mind remains youthful (I am still curious, I still find pleasure in new things and I still to a certain extent understand the fads of the new generations) I know a part of me is discovering the ancient within me. Who knows by the time I am seventy I would have the wisdom of the monks.

The little monks who fight and debate through the day is what I would like to be…… Wisdom filled with age and youth filled with energy!

 

 

The Wise never advise

Why does it take age to make us wise? Is it wisdom that makes us stop giving advice? Is it just the fact that we are too cautious to take the right step? Well I had the privilege to be invited to a talk by three young people who were proud of their achievements. I went with an open mind to receive wisdom. 

 I still haven’t crossed the barricade of using seven percent of my brain! But these days because I have the time and inclination, I have decided to enrich my mind (Though being stubborn, it’s a Herculean task!) through various ways and means. I read the newspaper, watch news on the TV, surf the net and debate with anyone who has the time to spare! I am after all unemployed (my resume now reads a tolerable housewife, termagant wife, nagging mother.......)

 There I was in a darkened auditorium listening to the ideas of these youngsters. There were wonderful things they had done; they had made a difference to the world; they shared their dreams with the audience. Dreams of a wonderful political system sans the corruption and bureaucracy and the red tapism that comes with it; dreams where everyone was honest and safe; dreams where all were equal leading to a classless society, where life was one big party! (Their words)

 Did you notice that I put an exclamation mark at the end of the last paragraph? Let me clarify it was not put there to express my disbelief. It was put there to show solidarity. How may you ask? Well I was young once, I too had had these dreams, but age and experience took them away ruthlessly. I remember my betters advising me about certain aspects of life and me mutely listening to them yet never accepting the facts. Like someone said advice is for free- the wise never give them and the fools never take them! So why give advice?

 I was swallowed up in the darkness. Yet for a moment in time I was back in my University auditorium getting up to enter the limelight to argue and discourse on this Utopian picture being built up. I had unconsciously risen and then sanity took over and I slowly sat down to clap for the speaker. I had never felt so impatient in my life; I felt claustrophobic and rose to leave the place as silently as I had come. I felt old and tired- there was this beautiful picture painted with hesitant words which I know and most of us who are prosaic know, is only a fantasy on one hand and on the other hand I saw a rudderless Ship drifting on the vast ocean of reality! 

There are too many adjectives to describe my feelings at that time but what they need is not adjectives, they need guidance, love and practical inputs. Who will give that to them? Junu says it is easy to give armchair advice and how do I know what they are doing is not right? 

Well I am trying to be wise, so have not proffered any advice but what I know is that painting a picture is much easier than constructing one. As I analyse myself, I realize that I am finding what the wrongs are and not trying to highlight what are the rights in the ideas. But I beg to remind all, that one small screw not tightened can lead to the collapse of the building and there is no scope for mistakes in real life. 

It is absolutely necessary to encourage a child when he has made mistakes for he needs it to build his confidence; it is equally necessary to be brutally honest with a young adult’s tentative foray into an uncharted territory for this is serious and real!

What right do I have to crush someone’s dreams? Should I not let them make and learn from their own mistakes? Unfortunately I am a mother and this makes me feel for them; I am like the blind seer who sees yet cannot explain how; I hope for once that I am wrong and they are right!