Friday, August 7, 2020

The yellow butterfly story

Aisha, his six year old niece, was on the other side of the phone call. In an usual cute voice of hers, she demanded a bed time story from her favourite uncle.  Last winter, when he had visited his sister, he had pampered Aisha with a bed time story every night and the ending of these stories marked the beginning of Aisha's night dreams.  And today in the lock down when he cannot visit her,  he obliged her with a story  instructing her to switch off the lights, tuck herself in the blanket, put the phone on the speaker mode and close her eyes to listen to him. He asked her to choose one: a butterfly, an elephant or a star as the protagonist of the story. She chose "butterfly".

The story:

The yellow butterfly was once flying bored in a garden until she noticed another butterfly, the white one with blue polka dots on it. The yellow butterfly tried approaching her to say hello but then the white butterfly gave a cold shoulder with an arrogant and a rude vibe. The yellow butterfly came back to her own plant and to escape the hurt of the arrogance of the white butterfly, she tried delving in nostalgia of her childhood. She was reminded of her carefree caterpillarhood, how easy life was, how no one expected much, you just sit on one leaf and chill. Obviously, back then you have dreams of being a butterfly and flying freely here and there but then its only when you become a butterfly, you realise that it is just a hollow dream.

And then sitting on her plant, deep in her nostalgia, she noticed another caterpillar lazing and chilling around on a leaf nearby. Smiling at the caterpillar, the butterfly felt that the caterpillar was well mannered to return her smile and also with a smile which seemed quite genuine. The butterfly flew to the caterpillar and started giving him gyan about how to relish the caterpillarhood and that it would not last long. And in between the long gyaan, the caterpillar noticed his mother back with the nectar. The yellow butterfly realised that the mother was the same ill-mannered white polka dot butterfly who had evaded her hello few minutes back. Before the yellow butterfly could fly back, the mother butterfly started shouting expletives at her and threatened to de-wing the butterfly if she came near her son next time.

The yellow butterfly feeling a bit sad left the garden and started looking for another garden. She stumbled on a garden of bougainvillea where she met a group of butterflies discussing about humans. They were gossiping on the weirdness of adult humans and waited for their six year old friend who would be there anytime. And then Aisha, the friend they were waiting, arrived at this bougainvillea garden to play with the butterflies. 

(Narrating the story, he checked whether his niece was still awake or had he bored her to sleep. Pleasantly, Aisha was awake and excitedly shouted at him to complete the story.) 

Aisha started playing the game of pakdam-pakdai with the butterflies where one player had to touch fleeing players and the one who was caught had to chase others. Aisha was good at the game and whenever the butterfly would come near her, she would duck or sway so smoothly that it was difficult for the butterfly to catch her. The yellow butterfly also joined the game. Due to her lack of stamina and newness of the game, she was most of the time chasing other butterflies and Aisha. At the end of the game, when Aisha's mother asked for Aisha to return to her house, she like a true sportsperson went to the yellow butterfly to wish her well and asked her to practise daily to get better. The yellow butterfly promised that she would come daily and that she really had a good time.  That night, the yellow butterfly tired after the game slept happily like a log and dreamt a beautiful dream of stars and elephants.

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Epilogue: His sister called him (the storytelling uncle) the next morning to complain as to what story had he narrated to Aisha last night that she is vehemently denying to wear her erstwhile-favourite-polka-dot frock.


Saturday, May 23, 2020

The Identity



" I have no desires, save the desire to express myself in defiance of all the world's muteness" - Vladimir Nabokov

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Part 1: The Identity

Who am I? A question so simple yet so philosophical that it has soothed souls as well as provoked numerous wounds.. In search of belonging, everybody strives to find an identity: an adjective or a noun which is so dangerous that it ends up causing limitless chaos, both individually and socially. I am a Muslim or a Christian, an American or a Chinese, a lawyer or a doctor, a wife or a mother, an introvert or an extrovert and so on. A label, you see, is that dangerous simplistic social identity we assume which not only makes us lose our individual identity but also gives us a collective identity for us to own, defend and demarcate. All of these actions ultimately cause relativity and thus the root of this volatile and complex world.

Part 2: The Lock down

He looked at the elegant watch he had not worn since long. The lockdown had lasted long now and he was not sure when would things go back to normal. He knew things wouldn't be the same and it should not be. The consumption economy had caused enough harm to people but while his heart was optimistic, his brain knew that the consumption economy would be back or rather further causing more harm.

In a random webinar he was once shown a video where a monk was briefly passing by the topic- "Who am I". In simple and brief words, he said that our identity is a sum function of all the people/ideas/things we love. People/ideas/things we love give us our identity and love is the supreme emotion which defines us who we are. According to him, when somebody goes through a breakup he/she basically remorses over the loss of his identity. Even the death of somebody closer gives us a feeling of hollowness for the loss of our identity. When somebody betrays us or breaches our trust, it actually leads to loss of our identity. Every feeling he said : a feeling of happiness or sadness was a byproduct of this identity strengthening or identity crisis and this identity was a by product of love. When asked by the audience, how to escape this identity, his answer was to love God. When we attach ourselves to God (infinite) or zero (Buddha way), the identity crisis would not happen.


Part 3: The migrant labour

He had just returned home after walking and hitchhiking several kilometers of distance from the fields of Punjab to his village in UP. It was a long run away from those arduous fields where everyday he had to plough yards of land for his rich master just for some pittance of money. Back in his rickety home, he could notice the conspicuous discomfort in the eyes of his four other brothers for one more brother had arrived to share the resources left by their deceased father. In contrast, the mother was happy on the occasion of her eldest son coming back and that too in the holy month of Ramadan. Probably, the virus causing mayhem in the world had become an Eid gift sent by Allah for her eldest son was with her after fifteen long years.

The entire family broke the evening fast together, the mother chose to give some of her iftar food to her eldest son who himself had taken less of the potion to ease the discomfort of his younger brothers. In the night, he went and sat by his mother's cot massaging her feet to help her sleep. The mother asked him about how had he spent his last fifteen years and commented him on his heavy Punjabi accent. She switched on to sharing tales of his underrated father (who had died when he was just twelve) as to how talented a musician (a qawwaal) he was. His qawwaali performances used to mesmerise everyone and was once blessed by the maestro shehnai player late Bismillah Khan himself.

In the night, he slept on the ground beside his mothers cot and saw (it was a dream or an imagination, he wasn't sure) Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan performing for a large audience in Punjabi and when he looked closely he realised it was his father's face singing the hymns of love in a language he would never have understood...

"Nitt khair mangaa soneya main teri, dua naa koi hor mang di
tere pairan ch akhir hove meri, dua na koi aur mang di"
(Forever I ask God for your well being, I don't ask anything else from Him
May I live at your feet till I die, I don't ask anything else from Him)



Sunday, April 5, 2020

A letter of good spirits


"Human life is but a series of  footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece"- Vladimir Nabokov

This post is an epistolary attempt where a psychologist based out of Mumbai writes a hand-written letter to his wife in US, who is also locked down with their daughter (Ayesha) due to the ongoing corona virus crisis. This letter tries to step a notch ahead in conveying some warm wishes and love in an otherwise technologically communicative world of video-chats and social media.

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Dear love,

I am writing this letter in anticipation that it would bring you lots of hope, happiness and harmony more-so during these eventful days of a pandemic across the globe. I really miss being with you and Ayesha and not being able to travel and this inability to spend the weekend together is a discomfort I try to brush off. While we do catch up on video chats, but you are apprehensive of my helpless uneasiness with technology. Speaking with Ayesha on phone (than in person) becomes so difficult because I feel that on phone, the words lose their lightness and spiritual precision and with her I have to be extra careful as she is so tender and can easily be bruised by any ugly diminutive from my end.

My dear, how have you been? How is your work going? Have you been able to learn the art of taking classes through video conferencing? Here, in Bombay, thanks to lot of good word of mouth about my work, the demand has increased but I have to deny taking up new patients as I am barely managing the existing ones. Also, I am trying to take out lot of time for myself.

On my work front, there is a very interesting coincidence I wish to write to you about. One year back I had a lady patient, I am not sure I would have mentioned to you about her. I should not call her a patient but a girl undergoing a very difficult period in her life. In her work life, she had a boss who micromanaged her and was also less intelligent than her. Everyday she struggled managing and scuffled being managed by him. Even her personal life was chaotic, she tried dating men but then most of them felt threatened by her intelligence and the remaining few ones (she perceived) were too immature for any relationship. During her first therapy session, I could totally perceive the bitterness in her. Living alone with an uncontrolled mind, she had started getting suicidal thoughts. Hence she came to my therapy sessions and it wasn't difficult helping her heal.

Part two of the story goes like this. Six months back, I had another patient: a tall, well-read but a very confused man. He lived with this notion that  no one understood him: neither his parents nor his friends. A very disturbing notion indeed. He wanted to take a path of spirituality away from this mundane and materialistic world. At his parents behest, he had tried his hand at working in corporate sector but  he felt miserable in this otherwise insensitive and insolent world of business. Unable to cope up, he ran away to Rishikesh to be guided by an able guru. To put the further story short, this guru like so many other verbose gurus was a fraud and had put him addicted to psychedelic drugs. His parents finally tracing him in Rishikesh got him back to Bombay. Interestingly, the parents asked me to help and reluctantly I took up this guy's case. This was not an easy case as he was also undergoing a strict drug rehab phase. But like a true champion, this guy came out clean and healed. And also, he has some really good sense of humor which helped him heal.

Now, the interesting part. The girl and the guy are dating each other. The guy called me yesterday just for a chit chat and he informed me about the liaison. The idea that the two of them are in love with each other is so flattering to me. I keep telling these youngsters to ensure humor in life. If you can laugh genuinely, no mental health issue can even touch you.

Anyways, what do you do apart from your work? I am reading some other books of Kahlil Gibran, (apart from the Prophet). I have a client who is a passionate stock-broker and has also left me interested in the stock market and valuations. I have downloaded a copy of Intelligent Investor by Graham Benjamin but then reading books online is so difficult that I am planning to buy it later. In the movies section, I am watching this fabulous Iranian director named Jafar Pananhi. Remind me to tell you about him during our next video call. I am so enamoured of this genius director that I can go on and on. Meanwhile, if it interests you, you can research him online as well.

I guess I have written alot. Do take care of yourself and hoping things get normal soon for us to travel and see each other. I am always there in spirits with you.

See you soon and take good care!
Yours and only yours,
P

Thursday, January 2, 2020

Annual Letter to the Students


Prague, 02.05.2019

"We all have our times machines, don't we. Those that take us back are memories...And those that carry us forward, are dreams." - H.G. Wells

Dear Students,

As the calendar changes, I hope that with mirth and laughter you let your old wrinkles come to the year 2020! Like every year, I retain my habit of writing to you my dear students, this annual letter about charming nostalgia, tender resolutions, vacillating hopes and formidable plans. Most people in the world have their weird own ways to celebrate: some drink and dance, some sleep in that cozy blanket, some visit the temple, some travel to scenic locations. I humbly write to you all!

Charming Nostalgia


Austrian Alps, 27.04.2019 
"The future is only an indifferent void no one cares about, but the past is filled with life, and its countenance is irritating, repellent, wounding, to the point that we want to destroy or repaint it. We want to be the masters of the future only for the power to change the past." - Milan Kundera

So many books, so little time! We managed to cover few books this year. Borges was special with his book Labyrinth, what a head spinner the book was! Most of you complained about difficult time you had submitting the assignments on this labyrinth of a book. How convenient, no one came over with flattery of how easy the assignments of others books (Camus, Ishiguro, Calvino) were. Also, I totally endorse your complains of taking the bestseller book Ikigai in such a senior class as yours but I hope you will pardon me for the idea was to introduce the Japanese culture to you. Next year we will delve deeper in the aesthetically maddening culture of Japan. Hope you have all submitted your last assignments for the year on the documentary"Jiro dreams of Sushi".

Travel wise, the year would have been definitely better for you. We managed some funds and traveled to Europe, a continent whose classical literature and films we were most familiar with. Prague was as charming as in the books of Kafka, Kundera or Hrabal. And those blue skies, white mountains and majestic landscapes of the Austrian Alps and the charming pebble streets of Bratislava, I think all of these were soulfully humbling.

Always remember what Pessoa says, life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are!

Tender resolutions, Vacillating hopes and Formidable Plans

"To be great, be whole;
Exclude nothing, exaggerate nothing that is not you.
Be whole in everything. Put all you are
Into the smallest thing you do.
So, in each lake, the moon shines with splendor
Because it blooms up above."
                           - Fernando Pessoa

Now looking forward to 2020, we will intend to read more, travel more and listen more. We have more poetry coming in your syllabus next year, also we have applied for funds for the trips to Nepal and Turkey. The trip to village in the Rann of Kutch area has been sanctioned. The idea of this trip would also involve stargazing, apart from the village hikes and soaking up the stillness of the salt desert.

This year's course also teaches you how to simplify your eating experience. There is no love sincerer than love of food.  Apart from the food course, there are some really good chapters this time like how to spend money. Earning money is easier than spending money and very few know how to spend money and not be enslaved by our consumption. Also we will be back to few chapters on music appreciation this year. There is another chapter on how to master technology, chaos and lower your worryability (Yes, Calvino!). In the books section, we will take on further books by Marcel Proust, Nabokov, Italo Calvino, and Bruno Schulz.

Some of you will also be volunteering to be mentors to the new joinees and will accompany them to various trips. Show them how to see beauty and help them "mature" into childhood.

I will not detail this year's course further and steal any further thunder of it. Hope you have a great year ahead and enjoy the little things. For in the dew of little things, does the heart find its morning and is refreshed!

Happy New Year!

-Yours.