Seeking Solace

Seeking Solace

I am on a train to Cochin, it’s a long journey and mild banter amongst fellow passengers is the norm. On the topic of aerated drinks the lady sitting next to me, confessed that she had stopped taking a particular brand of aerated drinks after seeing a television programme of a famous guru who had advised his viewers on the ills of consuming these soft drinks. One male passenger sitting in our section of the coach opined that all these so called gurus and god men are fakes and it is the people who are foolish to fall prey to them though he agrees to the aerated drinks warning.

Listening intently to them, I am reminded of a recent newspaper story where a certain Baba Bamdev from Jharkhand who had a sprawling business in placing tribal girls as domestic helps in the entire North Indian region had been arrested. Headquartered in New Delhi he had spread his tentacles well beyond the region. His bountiful wealth had been acquired from providing girls belonging to impoverished hamlets to wealthy clients in the cities and urban settings to work as housemaids. More often than not, these girls were sexually exploited some as young as 12 to 13 years old. This man used to have believers around him, believers who trusted the man to produce a magic wand and make their woes disappear. In anticipation they contributed their might in keeping him going even as he dished out conclusively sweet nothings to them.

Recently we heard about the famous Asaram Bapu, who has since been exposed as a woman hopper and land grabber, making his vast wealth through dubious means. Even his son dutifully and truthfully followed the father till the politicians were forced to squeak on him and has since been confined to his rightful meditating space. Then there is the famous Baba with clear political leanings, who had wreaked havoc on the political system through his brand of yoga. Another ‘Art of living’ guru, with a few prefixes to his name has urged followers to exercise their franchisee in a particular manner. There are many more that have been exposed in the past and many more that need to be exposed. All these so called Gurus and Babas have manipulated ordinary folks to attain their political and personal needs. This act of conning does not flow in a particular religion but is prevalent in all. The only common link being, the ordinary people-who irrespective of their leanings, learned or illiterate, rich or poor, by their acts of sheer foolishness fall prey to such conmen and follow their bidding.

The question that naturally arises is why do we not learn? Why are we enticed like a moth to fire? Why are we willingly destroying ourselves getting conned over and over again? Why do we continuously trip and fall? Why are we being overtly and covertly foolish? What keeps us from realising the truth? Why do we go back to them over and over again through generations? The answer is simple- Insecurity.

We are all insecure from within no matter how daunting we look, how well we are placed, how pretty or ugly we look, how settled we are in our lives, how learned or illiterate we seem to be. This insecurity stems from the uncertainty about the future. We are so engrossed in decoding the future that the present seems lost on us. We seem to cement our present more realistically only once we are aware of the future and this future is beyond comprehension to ordinary mortals which is when the God men and Babas fill in with their brand of wares and entice us on our path of discovery. They seem so astonishingly placid and calm in their sooth saying skills, so sublime in their version of the truth, that we curse ourselves for not having joined their bandwagon earlier and rue our earlier wasted existence as ‘doubting Thomas’s’. The present though unchanged seems more meaningful, worth the future, when all one should do is sit back ponder on how to do things differently and believe in your own abilities over prescriptions written by these fake leaders of men.

This is our failing, when we should be trusting in our own abilities, our sense of reasoning is sent on a vacation, and we laid more faith on our saviours, mere mortals who can never change our destiny since one’s destiny is always linked to one’s action. I am reminded of another Baba who seems so convincing when he answers his followers desperate queries. All queries are dismissed with the wave of the hand and a simple prescription which makes you wonder why you yourself did not think of it in the first place. Ah! If you had the ability to think alike you could also have been a Baba.

Someone has rightly said “the past is history and the future is mystery” what actually matters is the present and it is through the present that you can deal with your future. For this you do not need Baba’s and Gurus, at best simple motivational speakers, for times when the chips seem to be down, and the going gets tough. Our teachers and motivational leaders are sufficient unless you are not willing to accept the present and work towards the future, unless you willingly enlist your details for the conmen to realise their potential.

Will we learn to trust our judgement, our skills, our being, our sense of direction, our intuition, our conscience and our own abilities, or do we still run to these comforters when the clouds turn dark? Next time when you are down and seemingly out, when the world seems overburdened and stifling, when barriers seem to be insurmountable and you seem to be sliding down a deep unending hole, just sit back and relax, contemplate on the past, on why you have become the torchbearer of bad times, introspect, forge ahead anew, choose to do things a little different, learn from the past, believe in yourself and the moment will pass you by. Then you can merrily skip towards your goal, your future, and your tomorrow even while winking and whistling slyly at your detractors.

Robin Varghese- robin_vargh@yahoo.com

21^st August 2014

From the earths belly

From the Earth’s Belly

“Hurry up boys”, I called out to my sons as they got ready to go to college. I was a little exited because today I was going to meet my Husband who wanted me to be with him as he entered the last leg of his stay as an expatriate in Beijing. My husband has been in China for the last two years and he was serving the last month of his contract before coming back to India. He was therefore particular that I should be with him for the last time in China visiting places and packing up stuff for the relocation at the end of the month. I had to hurry with stuffing the refrigerator with food for my two boys who would be staying alone with their grandparents while I was gone. Since they were grown up boys and the extended family was around I did not worry too much.

That afternoon after kissing my boys goodbye I boarded a flight to Beijing via Kuala Lumpur. We arrived in Kuala Lumpur around 22.00 hours local time and had another Ninety minutes before the connecting flight to my destination. I stayed up trying hard not to doze off due to the jet lag as I was eager to see my husband after a long year of separation. The flight readied for take-off and we had all settled down to a smooth journey when around thirty minutes into the flight and while the crew were serving drinks, I noticed an unusual smell floating in the air. Looking around I did not see any bother on my co passenger’s faces or their body language, everyone seemed to be settling comfortably for the next few hours. Since I am not a frequent flyer I was somewhat allergic to this smell which grew stronger, even while I noticed frantic efforts between the Captain and some crew members.

All off a sudden the lights snapped and an envelope of pungent smell along with thin layers of smoke akin to cold vapour seemed to fill the atmosphere. This made us all very irritable and slowly it seemed as if everything had stilled inside the aircraft, there seemed to be no activity. I too felt as if I was being lifted into space to join the stars outside my aircraft window. The mind felt lighter, emotions went blank, and it was almost as if I were peeping from the corner of my eyes with my eyes closed. I tried hard to recover my balance, grapple with my mind and senses to get myself in order. The more I tried the deeper I sank into a state of helplessness. I so much wanted to move my limbs more as if to reassure myself that I was still alive and a passenger on Flight MH 317 bound for Beijing. I remember slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness though somewhere my mind refused to give up and I felt as a corpse with eyes open seemingly aware of people mourning around me but assuredly without the inner connect to establish this link.  

The aircraft toasted and tested its way through the clouds while my subconscious mind grappled with the inevitable. What about my boys, who would look after them scold them, cook their dinner, massage them when ill and hug and cuddle them to grow as good human beings. I could see my husband tossing and turning in bed, in excitement looking forward to the morrow when the sun would rise and bring an exciting day for him, the excitement of meeting his wife of twenty years who he has sorely missed during the last one year. The eagerness and fulfilment of desires gave way to the initial irritating news that the flight was delayed. The delay seemed to extend into infinity with no news of the incoming flight. While the information board clattered with the changing information of flights arrived, Flight MH 317 seemed to be held up somewhere in the unknown.

The unknown space was where we were travelling at a uniform speed for a period of time which seemed like eternity. Finally the flight lost its steam and floated like a bird that had stopped flapping its wing and was gliding in the sky. It felt like a kite in the sky that had snapped its string, like a parachute jumper who was enjoying a float in the sky before he pressed the button on his parachute. The glide finally ended with a splash in the waters, and then the sinking happened the aircraft turned on its side and swallowed water in small quantities, I started sinking, and the waters enveloped us as if we were being pulled by some unknown force from beneath. The light started going out of my eyes, I closed them and waited for divine redemption. I prayed that God would pull me out of this painful existence, an existence that could neither conform my past nor my present.

Whatever the state, I am still stuck underneath with around 300 of my fellow beings, trying to release ourselves from this miserable existence, where we were neither counted in the living nor the dead. I hear they brushed up their algorithms and mathematics piercing it with modern technology to pinpoint our abode in the earth’s belly, even though they keep contradicting themselves all eager to be the first in locating us, while we wait for a final redemption, that which would place us in the history books as those that perished in air accidents and got buried at sea en tail. We don’t want to be known as people who were lost, for that would be hard on my loved ones who would hope against hope and pray that a miracle would happen. How did it happen who is at fault, can be left for another day. I simply want to get out of this trapped situation. I so much want to shout but the waters above me still my voice, what else can I do till someone finds me, comfortably tucked with my seat belt fastened waiting for the final redemption.

Now, I lie in the deep expanse of the ocean wondering why the creator had to provide the earth with more than 70% water compared to around 30% land mass. Why did he cut short my life, I can see my troubled husband and kids in a huddle, trying to make sense of my disappearance.  Would I be allowed one chance to escape this place to bid them goodbye, I don’t know, How I wish I could, to rearrange my love affair with my husband, so that I could drive some more earthly sense into my kids, My! Do they miss their mummy, would this be a psychological blow for them, or would they be able to shake this tragedy and move on? I can see condolence meets being organised for me, the various actors some in genuine grief, some putting up an outwardly appearance. Gosh! How it takes death to decipher your friends, people who really love you, people who cannot do without you, how it takes death to bring out the truth in relationships. For a brief while I felt happy that the salvage party hadn’t still found us, because I can sit amidst this vast expanse and peep from behind the curtains, reflect on truth and hype, and separate truth from illusion.

Probably I am getting a bit grumpy; sitting overtime in one place for more than six months, certainly takes its toll on drifters, who are making their transit from the living to the dead. Can we ask you  all to join hands, speed up, get your act together and come and fetch us?, so that we can be released albeit as clipped and caged pigeons to meet our creator and travel into the infinity from whence there shall be no turning back, no coming back in either thought or deed.

(This article is inspired from the sad story of MH317 and should be seen only as a piece of writer’s imagination having nothing to do with actual events as they are or as they may unfold)

Robin Varghese – robin_vargh@yahoo.com

20^th August 2014

Pun Intended

Pun Intended

The death of Robin Williams the great comic artist is sad for us earthly beings but God and his chums must be having a great day up there rubbing their hands in glee at their new arrival. In heaven the days will probably turn longer and the nights shorter because this one man will be sure to upset the biological clock of the residents in heaven what with his comic act.

I chanced upon this comic actor more for the similarity in names (we share the same first names) than for his comic representations. But slowly I was drawn to this man after viewing Mrs Doubtfire. The world pays tribute to Robin for his kindness and his ability to keep the laughter going. Everyone seems to be contemplating on what went wrong, or how comic people feel so lonely. In the case of Robin he was a declared inpatient at rehabilitation centres. He himself admitted to bouts of depression and insecurity during his fame days. It is generally agreed that the latest episode happened during one of his worst internal strife.

I am reminded of those dwarf clowns in the circuses, who prance their way into the hearts of the little ones and the elders alike. Day in and day out in spite of retributions from life they appear at the gong and get the act going. Sadness in them is illusionary to the audience, we cannot see them as anything but the entertainers that they are. They wipe away their tears and sadness to provide laughter in their audience, laughter that erases the pain and tears of life. 

In that context, Robin was an entertainer, in spite of the internal hardships, pain, illusions, suffering, loneliness, failures and other such emotions, he came out wiping the tears off his face to put a smile on our faces, only to go back once the show ended to drown his sorrows in drugs and other destructive alternatives. Is there a way of repaying such people, nay; I am not talking about the tributes and niceties that spring up after he is no more but can something be done to stop the slide in people like him. We may have lost one Robin, but is there a way the world can exercise its might to put a stop to such stupid deeds by men who are the least prone (according to us). I don’t know- I leave it to my readers to ponder on a way out. Is there anything we can do? Is there anything society can do? Is there anything governments can do? Is there anything all of us together can do?

How did he die? News reports say he hanged himself with a belt. Now I find it hard to fathom how a man of his built would hang with a belt (though I am not suggesting any foul play or the like). They even noticed a few slashes on his wrist again testimony to the fact that there was a raging storm within, the culmination of which led him to this stupid deed. I say stupid because being the comic artist that he was, he must have tried to find humour in the way someone could have died by hanging, trying a noose for a belt. Only this time it got a little too serious enough to snuff out his life. He didn’t get a chance to rectify this trick or coin a few words in jest justifying his deeds. I am sure he must be up there telling everyone who cares to listen that, that was the stupidest thing he had every done which made people cry instead of laugh.

But it is all right Robin, we will forgive you this act of indiscretion, because we know you are getting ready to play the sequel of your life, in heaven with God and the angels for company, after all whether your last trick was stupid or foolish or plain desperation, your creator leased you out for a wonderful 63 years (for us) and was authorised to pull up the strings to make you disappear.  Rest in peace and let the act continue wherever you are for the show must go on.

 Robin Varghese

Robin_vargh@yahoo.com
14^th August 2014