Live a Legendary Life

Anita Pratap, K. Annamalai, T.G. Mohandas, Abhijit Chavda, Shehzad Poonawala, Sreejith Panicker, Anand Ranganathan, Rajat Sharma… the list goes on. These are the people whose opinions, perspectives and thoughts I have been consuming for the last several weeks. In these voices, I see the emergence of a new India. In this era of content, these are the voices that define content for me.

Anita Pratap talks about her legendary past as a journalist. In her accounts of her meetings with the LTTE, her first-hand experience of the riots sparked by L.K. Advani’s rath yatra, her reminiscence of her last encounter with Rajiv Gandhi, ten days before he was assassinated, she brings to life people, places, and sentiments. She reveals the human side of terrorist leaders, the dark side of soft politicians, the polarity and duality of human nature, and the thin line that establishes the morality of our decisions and actions. Her stories also reveal her own personality traits- her hunger for adventure, her curiosity, presence of mind, courage, and her ability to see beyond what is obvious. She is truly an enigma. Beneath her extraordinary traits, is a child-like persona, mischievous and determined. I celebrate her.

Every individual in this list is unique. I celebrate them all. They are all different, and yet, they are all people whose human qualities shine through their impossible journeys. They are all authentic, inquisitive, genuinely concerned about the world, simple, humble, and driven by the need to grow. The questions that they raise, the passion they exude, the wealth of knowledge they instill, the native wisdom that sparks their thoughts, the inner spirituality that drives them- these have moved me. They remind me of the India that I grew up in- a competent and spiritually awakened India. An India that did not rely on the import of culture for its growth. An India that was secure in its native identity, while demonstrating openness to different cultures and ideas. This may only have been my perception, and not the objective truth. Also, because we grew up in a community dominated by Defence or Ex-defence personnel, our formative environment was perhaps different from that of civilians. Kendriya Vidyalaya in those years truly represented a model of education that facilitated our journey of self-discovery. School taught us how to think, and not what to think. Over the years, this India that I grew up with, vanished. The likes of my teachers, who were nothing short of an Anita Pratap, vanished from the face of this country. They would have put modern-day feminists to shame. But listening to all these voices in the last several weeks, I have rediscovered the sparkle that was lost to us as a nation. Finally, there is this feeling of change– a change in politics and leadership.

The politics of this country is changing in its very language. People have started talking about meaning and purpose; people are slowly resuming the quest for real education and enlightenment. Finally, people are looking beyond entertainment. Content that only entertains, is slowly losing its audience. Podcasts are replacing mainstream media. I think men are ahead of women in this quest for meaning and purpose because many women are still obsessed with fashion and false pride. There is gradually a shift to relying on one’s native wisdom and one’s natural cognitive ability. We are slowly beginning to realize that imitating what is fashionable- be it in appearance, in accent, or in lifestyle, is not going to get us anywhere. We are realizing that we do not have to abolish our cultural identity in order to connect with the world.

I have always loved being Indian. Simply because there was something so beautiful about our indigenous character and culture. We experienced life at a completely different level- our lives were so textured and wholesome. Religion was a cultural experience. Even as a child, I loved the experience of places of worship. It is only when something is abolished, that we begin to see it for what it really was. As the temple culture disintegrated, I started to miss old religious practices- practices as simple as lighting a lamp at dusk. Practices that were my private affair, and did not get in the way of others practising their religion. Why don’t we do that anymore? That is the extent to which our lives changed. Our lives changed not because of any Muslim or Christian infiltration; our lives changed because of our own cultural shift. We just chose to abandon and disregard all that was beautiful and valuable. We were consumed by entertainment and consumerism. We bought in to these ideas, and gave up on our own abundance. I do love many things about the West and individualistic societies- their intellectual climate that fosters curiosity and the inherent exploratory nature of a human being, for instance. However, do we really have to deny who we are, in order to travel and learn about the world?

An important purpose of life is to also preserve and transmit the elements of a culture that created meaning. When I was growing up, I was touched by much of what I saw around me. The way people talked, dressed, loved, cared- I was touched by the meaning ordinary people created in their daily lives. I was touched by their ideals and inner spirituality. Our teachers, bosses or leaders were parental figures who brought in an element of concern and affection in their interactions with us, unlike teachers, bosses or leaders of today. When we sought a doctor in those days, we put our confidence in him/her. While these elements have faded away, I preserve these elements within me because I once thrived on them. I never let the memory of these interactions fade away, because only then can I become what they were to me. This is the element that I bring into my interactions as a teacher or psychologist. I want young people to taste what they do not get to taste in the world today. It is my moral obligation to them.

To identify with a philosophy of life, or with the cultural elements that embody this philosophy, is a key ingredient in the development of a human being. What are the young people of India identifying with? What do young people really care about? What are young people devoting their life to? These are questions I explore when I meet young people. These are questions young people must explore. If they refrain from asking these questions, they will end up with an identity crisis.

Migration to a developed country, growing one’s means of wealth and popularity, pursuing prominence and recognition- these are not answers to one’s quest for identity. The processes or phenomena that fulfill one’s deepest motives– perhaps the hunger for truth, justice, adventure or whatever it is that one is driven by- that is what one must discover in order to find answers to one’s identity.

Kerala is perhaps an example of a state with the deepest identity crisis. People largely operate from a place of self-doubt or narcissism; they operate from a place of unfulfilled psychological needs, which plays out in different forms, sometimes toxic to the self, and sometimes toxic to both the self and to society. Kerala is desperately trying to identify with modernity, as they understand it. For most people, modernity is not to do with a philosophy of life; it is to do with a lifestyle. What we have ended up creating in Kerala, is a culture of fashionable identities, rather than authentic identities. Women, in particular, are ashamed of their past identity; they are ashamed of the simplicity, humility, vulnerability, innocence, tolerance, compassion and resilience that women demonstrated in the past. They are ashamed of women who identified with the family structures of the past, and derived motivation from the difficult roles that characterized their lives within the joint family system. They are unable to distinguish between abuse and the innate hardships of life. Women are haunted by a victim mindset. Women have made it the purpose of their life to identify with the image of a ‘modern woman’, and severe the connection with the roles of the past. Take Manju Warrier, for instance. Manju started out as a brilliant actress. Her characters breathed life into the roles, and we could not imagine a replacement for Manju. The native, indigenous cultural ingredients of her personality made her extraordinary as an artist. But the modern version of Manju is as good as a mannequin in a store. She looks years younger, and could easily pass for a college student; her make-up and costumes could find her a place among K-drama celebrities; she has also learnt to carry herself in a way that matches her current stature. When she smiles, it is a plastic smile. Manju had to give up everything that was vital about her personality in order to be relaunched as a contemporary brand. No matter how hard I try, I cannot find any vestige of the personality of the old Manju that we celebrated. I cringe when I see her emulate young celebrities of this generation. I understand that she may have gone down this path for survival, but there is a price an artist pays for ignoring a vital part of their personality that is meant to serve a purpose.

On the ground, the scenario is no different. I am tired of working with women who pin their identity to their degrees, job titles or lifestyles- women who hate feeling responsible for something or somebody. Kerala is a chaos of sorts. People are invested in other people’s perception of them; they spend a lifetime creating an image, rather than identifying with the real self. They are perpetually in competition with everybody else. Every parent’s dream is to see their children grow up to speak fluent English, and take up a profession that will guarantee migration to a developed nation. Those who are not financially well-to-do, will take up nursing. Some will marry nurses working abroad. Those who can afford to send their children abroad for higher education, will do so. The children are clueless about the meaning of the journeys they are taking.

Is this a good time for young people to participate in the affairs of our country? We already have many young people who are changing narratives through podcasts. K. Annamalai sets a brilliant example for an individual who refused to pursue engineering simply because he was an engineering graduate. Instead, he found his purpose in politics. If young people want to save themselves from depression, it is about time they stopped conforming to traditional paths, and evaluated their role in the current political and socioeconomic context. I think we are living in times where politics can no longer be a disconnected pursuit. The onus is on each one of us to build this country.

The Return to Myself

The 22nd of March. My birthday. I am 45 today. A birthday at this age is a private event. It is a day when you create a space within yourself- to have an honest conversation with yourself. You dwell on your relationship with yourself- on how this relationship has changed over the years.

My relationship with myself has changed considerably over the years. I once lived a life where my physical reality was a happy place, but my internal reality was clouded with feelings of worthlessness and inferiority. In those days, I depended on my physical reality to feel happy. I thrived on the affection showered by my family, friends, and teachers. I thrived on the happiness ingredients of my external world which were plentiful- adventure, fun, companionship, appreciation, and achievement. However, I was not ready to face myself. On the days when I was home and did not step out, I felt lonely and frightened as I faced my own darkness. Then there came a time when my physical reality turned dark. The happiness ingredients vanished, and were replaced by struggle and suffering. Ironically, it was in this darkness that I discovered the light within. Something of my spirit shined through this darkness. Life held up a mirror for me to look into, and in that mirror, I saw my love for learning; my love for humanity; my persistence and perseverance for the causes I cared about; my honesty and truth; my humility and my ability to accept my imperfections; my courage and resilience. Of course, I would have been lost without the right resources to lead me- the books I read, the movies I watched, and the people I modeled.

Every journey of suffering eventually led me to myself; I was beginning to love the person that was the real me. Until that point, I had been a drop in the ocean, unaware of the ocean of which I was a part. But my life experiences helped me connect with the larger consciousness of which I was a part. This changed my perception of myself. When you perceive yourself as an isolated drop that is not connected to the ocean, you feel your weakness because your identity is limited and narrow. But when you perceive yourself as a drop belonging to the ocean, you feel your strength because your identity is now broad. When I learnt to identify with the larger consciousness, my identity expanded. This larger consciousness had infinite reserves of wisdom, and it instilled in me a powerful sense of purpose. I learnt to depend on it to live my life. My relationship with myself changed. I loved being me because my mind was always educating me and unveiling the miracles in life. My mind became a very interesting place, and I was never bored.

But this birthday, there is a desire of which I recently became aware- the desire to go back to the sociocultural context that I am familiar with. The desire to go back to urban life. In my life in Kerala, the drop that is me, has ceased to exist. Only the ocean exists. I am always in self-transcendence mode because that is the only way you can survive here. I can afford to be the drop with nature, but not with people. In my relationship with the people here, I have to always be the ocean. I can never lean on them; I will always have to let them lean on me. I have to prepare myself for the fact that people will not acknowledge my needs, simply because they themselves are so needy. I have never met a population that operates out of unfulfilled psychological needs, as much as the people of contemporary Kerala. Most people that I meet, are looking for validation. In conversations, the need for validation dominates to the point that the responses are often misplaced. I think I am so exhausted from always being the ocean that I look forward to moving out of this state. Sometimes, I have to try hard to recall the life that I once lived; my past is completely disconnected from the life I have lived in Kerala. I feel the desire to go back to the world where I am showered with affection, where the climate is milder, and where I can afford to be a child looking for some adventure, fun and companionship. I also miss the professional world and the intellectual climate where authentic work has some value. Coincidentally, I spoke to my old friends today. Whenever I connect with people from my old life, I cry because it reminds me of all that I miss. So I am spreading my wings and preparing for the next leg of my journey, which I hope is not too far away.

NATURAL ANTIDEPRESSANTS

Life is full of contradictions. Often, our real problem is the absence of a problem. The answer to the problems in the mind is ironically, problems in our real world contexts. When our real worlds do not present problems that we must solve, we tend to live in our minds. A lot of young people these days live more in their minds than in their physical or social reality. Why does that matter? Problems in our physical or social reality demand our attention and thinking in order to make choices and take action. This leaves us little room to weave fictitious stories in our minds because we are living out the stories of our physical reality. We are mapping ourselves onto our real worlds. However, when we do not make ourselves responsible for something or somebody, our minds have all the time to weave the most extraordinary stories out of nothing. Perhaps somebody mocked you. You have all the time to dwell on it, doubt yourself, and question your worth. You go on thinking until you come to the conclusion that you are worthless, and that becomes a problem. This time, the problem is in your mind, not in your real world. There is nothing for you to solve in your real world; you do not have to respond or take action. However, no amount of thinking will change your thoughts. You have no way of knowing your worth unless you act in the real world and discover your true worth.

I spent the last fifteen years of my life solving problems. Even as I was pursuing my dreams, studying, working, meeting people, writing, and steering my life in the direction that I wanted to take, there was never a phase when I was free of problems. Even before I had solved one set of problems, a new set of problems would line up, demanding my attention and response. Some of the problems were complex, but the good thing was that all my problems were in my real world, not in my mind. My mind was so busy responding to these problems that it never had the time to overthink and generate problems from within. There was no time to pay attention to the thoughts that made me doubt my abilities, qualities, or worth because there was always something in my real world awaiting my response. As I went about solving problems in my real world, I also started to appreciate, admire and value myself. It wasn’t that I had succeeded at all my endeavors in the real world; it was just that I had confronted them all. Through this journey, I had built some self-knowledge that rested on the evidence from real-world experiences. Now, it is difficult for me to be easily shattered by a negative experience.

Some of us have a natural tendency to live in our minds. I am one such person. Even as a child, I perceived my mind as a safer place with more vitality than the world outside. But because I was curious and adventurous by nature, I would find myself constantly stepping out of my safe place to interact with the real world. My curiosity and hunger for adventure often got the better of me. They helped me map myself out on to the real world. Also, there was a relatedness that I experienced with the world, even as a child. I always believed that there was much to live for, and that the world needed me. There was a sense of belonging. There was a sense of being connected to the world in a way that I couldn’t clearly spell out. I felt that I served the world in some way. I felt connected to people, places and nature in a very special way. This relatedness grew with time. As I evolved, I felt responsible for people and causes. I felt that it was my responsibility to advance all the knowledge that I had assimilated through both formal training and informal learning. I felt that it was my responsibility to be a source of hope and inspiration to my students as well as my clients. I felt it was my responsibility to help young people preserve and amplify their vitality. I think I always had such extraordinary perceptions that I felt a sense of purpose. These perceptions would not be given to me without a reason, would they? I strongly suspect that these perceptions account for the feeling of relatedness I always harboured. I felt one with the world. This relatedness always helped me step out of my negative thoughts and get back to life in the real world. Though I can go very low, I always bounce back. This is because I cannot alienate myself from the things I care about for too long. I feel I am needed there. Though I am confident in some areas and not that confident in other areas of my life, this sense of relatedness always pulls me out of my tendency to go back to living in my mind. I love myself the most for this reason- this ability to put myself out there when I am trembling and shaking, simply because I feel responsible. I am motivated more by the intrinsic nature of tasks, and not by the external rewards attached to them.

Looking back, I realize that these ingredients of my personality are my natural anti-depressants. What are your natural anti-depressants?

THE WISE MAN’S STORY

“A session of caning should also accompany your CBT sessions”, the man joked. He was responding to the fact that some of my clients lack initiative; they want the best results for themselves, but refuse to take up initiative or responsibility. “It is a simple logic. You have lived a certain life for a while, with a certain set of habits, behaviors, and pursuits. You now want your outcomes to improve. But you continue to live the same pattern of life, with the same habits, behaviors and pursuits. Why would the outcomes change?”, he added.

“I suppose we have created a culture of dependency. Parents are all the time telling their children to study. They are telling them to only focus on studies, and leave the rest to the parents. When children have never taken up any responsibility in life, they are bound to feel overwhelmed by the responsibilities that they must eventually shoulder.”

“This generation of parents is useless. I sometimes hear my friends tell their children- ‘You don’t worry about us. Just study hard, clear the competitive exams, and go abroad. That is the best you can do for us.’ I was furious at my friend. Is this what one should tell their children? This is not what I tell my children. I tell them that they must be happy. Happiness comes from the realization of one’s potential and from fulfilling relationships. Our relationships are not secondary; they matter. We should always be thinking about ourselves and the people who matter to us. Parents are not people that you cut off, just because you have a career to pursue. Parents always want the companionship of their children, especially in old age. Do whatever it takes to keep the intimacy. Show concern, take an interest in their lives. Help out your old parents in whatever ways you can. Communicate with them so that they know you care about them. Sometimes, you may be in a situation where you cannot physically be there for them. But if they know that you are worried and concerned, that in itself, can be a source of motivation and happiness.”

“I guess this generation of parents, especially in Kerala, is submerged in feelings of inferiority. They are not interested in their children’s well-being; they see their children as the means to elevate their own status in society. Every parent has only one dream- to brag about children who are studying or working abroad. Their children are so clueless- they have no why to their lives or to their decisions. They take on roles without any clarity about why they should be pursuing such a path. At some point, they begin to realize that they are living someone else’s life.”

“You see, I came up the hard way. My father had to take care of a big family on a small income. Our relatives were affluent, but they would not even lift a finger to help us in our misery. However, they were never short of advice and criticism for us. They were people who could not swim, refused to step into the water, but still called out to the swimmer to tell him how he ought to swim. The humiliation of those years was so painful. I was studying in school and had a classmate who was from a wealthy family. He was a good friend of mine. One day, when we were walking home from school, it started to rain heavily. His house was just round the corner, but my house was much further, on a hilltop. I took out my umbrella. Our teacher stopped us. He took the umbrella from me, handed it to my friend, and commanded me to run home. My teacher made me feel like an inanimate bicycle hoop that could effortlessly glide over the hill, and was unworthy of any human consideration. I recall running home, completely drenched. But it was the discrimination that hurt me more. Many years later, when I was working, I was still sensitive to the sight of children from poor socioeconomic backgrounds being discriminated. I bought umbrellas and uniforms for children who were debarred from entering school because they weren’t wearing school uniforms.”

“In those days, we didn’t have a road to my house. Besides, the path to my house was very steep. So every time one of us was ill, somebody from the village would carry us to the doctor. I remember feeling awkward when strangers carried my sister. Now we have a road to that land. However, there was no road to the house in the adjacent plot. The elderly man in that house was diagnosed with cancer and was on treatment. They did not have money to build a road. I got it done because I knew how much it mattered to them at that point in time.”

“We used to have many deep wells in the village in those days. Everytime somebody carelessly dropped something into the well or lost the pail in it, I would be summoned. I would step into the deepest well without any hesitation, and retrieve it for them for a small fee. Everybody in the village knew this, except for my family. Many years later, after I had started working, I had come home on vacation. Somebody called me to retrieve a pail from their well, and I obliged. But when I was just stepping out, I saw myself staring at my brother’s face. It was the first time he had seen me do this. He was shocked and made me promise that I would never do it again.”

“I did not have the opportunity to study as much as I wanted to. I had to find a job as soon as possible. Even before I had secured a job, I had already started networking to find job opportunities for my family members. I finally managed to get a good job in the UAE. When I started working, I empowered all my family members. I helped them financially, and I got them jobs. All of us prospered; in about 8-10 years, we had left behind our hardships. I did not believe in individual prosperity; I wanted us to be together in our prosperity.”

“I raised my children well; I taught them life skills. I have taught them to see life not merely as the pursuit of a well-paying job, but as a journey of mastery of the self. Children model us; I did not want to be the parent who is hooked to the mobile phone all day long and then expects his children to responsibly use the phone. I realized that my own actions and choices were more powerful than my words to my children.”

“If there is one thing I regret, it is not having educated myself enough. There is more that I want to study and learn. Perhaps I can now invest on that part of my development now. Looking back, I have no major regrets. All my experiences taught me to become a more considerate and responsible human being. Life has taught me that the more self-reliant we are, the more we can enjoy our companionship with life.”

EXPERIENCING LIFE THROUGH PERCEPTIONS

On Wednesdays, I travel to Perumbadavu, a tiny hamlet located in the hilly periphery of Kannur. The journey through the hills is a journey through fantasy; I feel that I am traveling through the kingdom of heaven. The congestion and traffic of the city slowly give way to roads that cut through uninhabited and uncultivated land. The terrain is rocky and dry; it is sunbathed in shades of copper, gold and bronze. There is perhaps nothing that survives on these lands; every little sprout of green is charred to death by the sun, Apart from the cashew trees that grow here, there is barely a plant or tree in sight. There is also a scarcity of water. Some of these are grasslands; the long blades of dry yellow grass whose ends bow gently to the sun as the wind blows, are a pretty sight in the summer. The wind leaves behind a trail as it slithers through the grass, drawing wavy patterns on them. The invisible wind comes alive on these grasslands through the imprints and impressions that it leaves behind on the grass. These grasslands slowly give way to the hills that are greener. There are also occasional rubber plantations. The sun that shines radiantly on these laterite hills, the clouds that blanket the hill tops, the panoramic view of the hills, and the occasional sight of a river winding its way through the hills, accompany me on this journey. The hilltops present a view of the hills right down to the valley, and I cannot help feeling that I am gliding through the skies with a view of earth below. There is a godliness to this journey; it brings in a distance between me and my worldly life. I revel in these perceptions, fully aware that I will look back at these moments with reverence and nostalgia. I form strong imprints of these journeys; I am aware that they are experiences worth living for.

A few months ago, when this opportunity presented itself, I was not sure if I would be able to travel this distance. But the non-transactional nature of this endeavour got me interested in it. The individual who invited me for this endeavour, is a very interesting person. A self-made man, he is driven by the need to achieve a common good. The more I get to know him, the more valuable I find him. Despite being a businessman, he has his heart in the right place. He lives by certain principles and ideals. Most importantly, he has not forgotten the journey he has taken to get to where he is now. He has empowered his family members, friends, and community in many ways. He treats people well, and does not lose the human element in his interactions. When people are respected and treated well, it is easy to obtain their cooperation and contribution. Most businesses ignore this simple principle of human interactions. They fake an interest in people’s welfare, but it is easy to see through this. Ultimately, business interactions are also human relationships; the nature of the relationship you share with your employees, partners, and clients, goes a long way in determining whether you will thrive or perish. As a therapist, my client’s perception of our interaction, is often the most important determinant in my professional success; my technical services are secondary. Once a client has perceived an interaction as a relationship (in my case, a therapeutic relationship), they would not be easily motivated to seek another therapist. It is always the human element that we bring into interactions with people that drives commitment from clients and employees. This is the part that is profoundly lacking in work environments today.

My clients belong to two categories- simple village folk and teens. I am more comfortable with teens because I am more familiar with the adolescent context. However, I am discovering that I can strike a chord with people from a more rural context as well, because the language of suffering is the same. Their psychological needs and their aspirations resonate with me. As a therapist, I enjoy these deep accounts of human experience. On my way back, I often find myself lost in thought. I think about the challenges of the socioeconomic contexts of these times, the individual circumstances of my clients that put them at a disadvantage, the loneliness that people are struggling with, the inevitability of illness and death, the constraints that limit people, and the vulnerability that people struggle with. I feel it all; I feel it as I drive back home; I feel it in the company of the setting sun, the silence of the hills, and the comforting shade of the rubber plantations. At that moment, I cannot feel myself. I can only feel this universe of people and the phenomena of nature within me. The setting sun imparts a glow to this perception, and I feel a deep sense of contentment as I embody the suffering of all my clients. I feel happy to be alive. I feel happy to keep the glow in people’s minds. I feel that this glow is life- the glow that lights up our hearts, even when our lives are difficult. Just as I always had a universe to fill my life with this glow, I want all my clients to feel this glow.

I will never forget Perumbadavu and its people. I will never forget this phase of life. I will never forget the times when I had sprained my back, and yet, I drove down to Perumbadavu, simply because I did not want to miss out on the experience of these Wednesdays that have a surreal quality to them. Life in its simplest form, boils down to a time, a people, a land, and one’s perceptions.