On turning 40 and breathing slowly
The ultimate truth of life is that you, and only you, are responsible for where you are. Others are just screensavers; a solemn excuse to distract yourself from accountability. This might come across as harsh but when you peel away all the layers and sit with yourself quietly for an hour without your phone, our facade becomes more and more obvious. We are supposed to be light creatures, almost like a feather, but we end up carrying so much burden of ‘others’ that we are always trudging. It won’t be an overstatement to suggest that human existence is the most glorious form of loneliness.
Since the pandemic, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reading ancient scriptures and various mythologies. I won’t go as far as calling myself an expert (yet) but one nugget is undeniable: if you have chosen to fight, please continue. Each battle grants you a unique perspective and the only possible way to earn is to see it to the very end. No point quitting in the middle. It’s equally important to avoid getting embroiled in the philosophical tidbits. A warrior has no reason or rhyme to lift his head to check where the sun is setting. When it’s your turn to rest, the sky shall generously cuddle you.
Speaking of right and wrong, good and bad, moral and immoral, here’s another zinger: who does the victory belong to? Well, the question might be complicated (not complex) but the answer is rather simple (not convenient). It doesn’t belong to you. You are barely a vessel of time. You do your part and move the fuck on. You plant a sapling and water it and nurture it but you won’t be around when its branches are teeming with birds and laden with fruits. Except the tree, nobody else would remember that you seeded it in the first place. As you can solemnly note here, the victory belongs to time. Always.
I was initially aghast to learn that the Kauravas went to heaven on the merit of war casualties. Turns out if you die on the field, defending what you believe in without an iota of doubt, you get a free pass to liberation. So, the logic here is, your body is an instrument that your mind manipulates. What you think, what you truly believe in, counts. In other words, what is your definition of dharma? Only you get to decide. I was obviously not prepared for this hypothesis: I conclude according to my understanding(s) and I am not married to any of my beliefs. After all, in a dharma-yudh, the victory doesn’t belong to Pandavas or Kauravas. It belongs to dharma. Sustenance.
Last year, I went through an MRI for the first time and more than the report, what bothered me was the sheer claustrophobia one experiences inside that freaking machine. For 20+minutes, you are supposed to stay still while noise plays dangerously close to your eardrums. Anyway, those tests detected a cyst between my nose and left eye. It explained several of my recurring health issues: migraine, dizziness, imbalance, sudden drop in energy, slurring, csf leak, etc. As much as I can’t stand the sterility of a hospital, it’s humbling to find genuinely kind and patient nurses. I remember this elderly lady telling me, “...you just need to drink tender coconut everyday… it nourishes the brain.” Even if it’s not an accurate prognosis, I could definitely get behind this piece of advice as I reside in a coastal city that, on a bad enough day, flirts with 85% humidity.
An excellent antidote to ailments is an excellent sense of humour. Sharing a world-class exhibit below:
“How are you, Mr. Shetty?”
“Ah, I’ve got a mild headache.”
“Nothing like that. It’s all inside your head.”
Some TV series are meant for endless re-watches. The Office (American version), for instance. But here are some observations that might be unpopular. Maybe, just maybe, Jim is not such a nice guy given how he harasses Dwight for no reason. Yes, sometimes, Dwight is a bit too much with his adherence to “rules” but he is extremely reliable, a man of integrity, and quite harmless. Also, it’s worth highlighting that Pam doesn’t really have friends of her own; a pattern you can notice when she was planning her wedding with Roy as well as when she was with Jim. If she is such a sweet person, why is this the case? Please explain to me like I am Michael Scott.
The easiest thing to do is give up. The toughest thing to do is also give up. Once you give up, life is so much easier. Once you give up, life gets a bit more difficult. This could possibly be the single greatest dilemma attached to our species. No other creature goes through this shitshow. An absolute circus, if you may. A refreshing picnic, if you may not.
A lot of my friends and acquaintances are raising kids and when I notice the tenderness they exhibit towards their offspring, I wonder how come my mother was so cruel to me during my childhood. I used to get beaten up every week, if not everyday. But then, back then, it was the norm and I was a hyperactive sick boy. Every child I grew up with used to get thrashed at home. In fact, something was wrong with those who weren’t getting these exquisite desi treatments indoor. So, imagine my surprise when I learned of this conversation:
“Your baby is crying.”
“It’s OK. He is not going anywhere.”
People often assume that with time, after the cracks in your existence are filled with the gooey cement of wisdom, you are meant to become soft(er). Well, that hasn’t happened to me. I am still that same old cynic who tries his level best to sound cheerful and motivate others. Although I continue to look down upon myself and downgrade my self-esteem faster than Morgan Stanley ditches India’s growth story, I genuinely root for your win. Perhaps I suffer from Solomon’s paradox. So, once in a while, at a restaurant, I develop an irresistible urge to walk by a ‘date’ table and whisper “he is not the one for you” into a random woman’s ear before walking away nonchalantly.
The sun is humongous and it not only forms the basis of earth’s ability to stay alive but also holds the key to the very idea of religion. However, pound-for-pound, the energy output of the sun is 276.5 watts per cubic meter, roughly the same as a compost pile. To our over-stimulated minds, that appears disappointingly low. However, there is a hidden trick in there: longevity is predicated on steadiness, and that is often slow in nature. Like a turtle’s heart, pumping only as much as required. Or a greenland shark’s tenured gills. Precisely what Yoga tries to teach us: every breath counts, so keep it slow, make it steady. To truly succeed at anything, you have to acknowledge calmness. The sun is in no haste and so shouldn’t we. There is a reason why that awesome golden ball was here long before the birds started chirping for it and it will be here long after the birds are gone.
If there are gods, I request only one wish: make my fellow citizens responsible for their thrash. We can’t prosper with such little civic sense. For a civilization steeped in cleanliness, we behave so poorly in public. Grownups chuck polythene garbage out of running vehicles and their children copy this magnificent behaviour. Of course, every country worth its salt has gone through this: Americans used to spit tobacco everywhere (just like ghutka); just google the Great Stink to know how London looked like 70 years ago; even Amsterdam canals used to be clogged with plastic bags in the 1970s, and Vietnamese streets used to be shitty. But the lesson is, the systems in place took measures and today, littering is an alien concept there today. Unless the Indian government criminalizes littering, it’s going to be a long walk to civility. I go for walks in the evening and half of my time is spent on picking up plastic bottles and wrappers and whatnot. Miserable.
Two events are perennial: waiting and healing. You wait and you heal and then you die, cherished by the few who genuinely cared about you, only to be forgotten for good. Now, the question is, what are you waiting for? And what happens once you are fully healed. A great case in point here is Shabari. She is one of the most striking figures from Ramayana. She knew Rama would visit her one day. In fact, she was certain that this was going to happen even before Rama was born. That’s like being certain in 1990 that Messi is going to win Argentina their next WC in 2022 or predicting the unprecedented rise of Bitcoin in 2000. In anticipation, she cleaned her hut and premises everyday. By the time Rama finally visited, her back was already stooped. As an offering to her much-awaited guest, she gave him berries and in her enthusiasm to check whether they were sweet enough for him, she ate half the berry. As a nod towards her blind—how else is devotion supposed to be?—devotion, he ate the half-eaten berry, creating one of the most popular epithets in Hindu mythology. This also dismantled the caste divide between them. Her unbridled resolve is what is missing in our actions today. We can’t wait and we can’t heal because we are always short on patience. We want everything because we don’t know what exactly we want but we want all of it now itself.
Milind Soman recently crossed the Strait of Gibraltar at the age of 60. Although it’s a fabulous feat, we must remember that he is a former national swimming champion. When you watch him cut through those heavy waves, you realize that he wasn’t only running all these years. He was swimming too. That form is not normal. If you ask me (which you won’t), my ultimate goal is to be so healthy and fit that people are like “I am sure even his dick has 6 packs too!” Lame jokes apart, your biggest regret isn’t not becoming the person you wanted to be but letting yourself become the person you didn’t even want to be.
I turned 40 today. I don’t feel a day older than 69. On a serious note, math can’t get more real. If I pass away over the next decade, I would have lived about 1/5th of my life. If I die in the next 20 years, I would have lived 2/3rd of my life. If I die at the age of 80, I still have half my life ahead. Personally, I wish to live for at least 150 years. I really want to see what happens in the end. Can’t miss out on the climax of this movie pretending to be a documentary.