The Significance of Being Insignificant

Anu, my next door neighbour barged into my room, without even waiting for her knock on the door to be answered. Her face was flushed and she was ready to burst into tears. Plopping herself on my bed she waited for me to join her. Obviously something was terribly wrong somewhere and she was hurting. Taking her hand in mine, I asked softly, 'Is everything okay, Anu?'

'No! Nothing is okay!’ she burst out.

Anu was a middle school teacher in one of the most reputed private schools in Mumbai. An extremely innovative, hardworking and much liked teacher, she was recently appointed Section Head of the middle school. I waited for her to go on.

‘I have no idea why the school has appointed Section Heads at all! I tell you, the headmistress! Oof! Not a pin can be moved without her permission! Literally! If she is going to decide everything, why should we be given the charge of Section Heads? The Management decided to appoint Section Heads in order to reduce the load of responsibilities on her shoulders. But do you think she wants to let go? No way!’

'Even for something as mundane as assigning teachers for substitution, we have to take her permission! Can you beat that? Why should two people work on the same minor tasks? She might as well handle it herself and I can focus on my teaching instead of wasting my time and energy on job duplication.'

'My friend Shreya, who’s the Section Head of the senior school, was so upset today. The HM gave directions entirely contrary to what Shreya had assigned to the peons just yesterday. Imagine Shreya’s frustration. All her careful planning gone for a toss! Besides, the peons will not take her word seriously anymore. They know now that no matter what Shreya says, she’s not the final authority. How is Shreya supposed to function? How is any of us supposed to function?'

Be it in a business house, where the father does not let go of the reins for the children long after they have joined him in business, or the mother holding on to the house and kitchen long after her children have grown up and started their own families; be it heads of institutions who want to be the one taking even minor decisions, or project heads and directors who will keep every decision in their hands. That’s not all, we find even student representatives in colleges, team leaders, Heads of Departments, principals, class monitors in schools... just about in every position of authority and importance that the one in the hot seat, does not want to let go. Yes, kissa kursi ka takes place not only in politics, but in every nook of life. Age, gender, community and nationality are no bar.

The irony is, that the ‘oppressed’ in time take over to become the oppressor, forgetting completely what it felt like to be the one oppressed. In some cases, it is not forgotten, and the tenure becomes a time to get back. Alas, the one bearing the brunt now, is often not the one who caused the suffering to begin with. So who are we really taking revenge on? Often this ‘holding on’ is the cause of strife, stress and bitterness in what could otherwise have been healthy, happy relationships.

What exactly is the psychology behind this holding on and wanting to retain control? Fear of being insignificant? Fear of being forgotten? Lack of self-confidence? Greed? Selfishness? Attachment? The possibilities and explanations are many. The important thing is to be alert enough not to fall into that trap ourselves. Madonna’s song ‘to have and not to hold’ is a lovely reminder to begin every day with!

The only thing significant about our existence is our insignificance in the universe. Once this fact is internalised, and we live in awareness of our insignificance and dispensable existence, we can live free, enjoying everything we have, without being weighed down by our strong holds, and without getting in anyone’s way or stepping on anyone’s toes. 

Going Deep & Flying High

The highlight of the concrete jungle that is the buildings in our colony, is a huge almond tree, nearly the height of our five storey building. Home to many a creature, from squirrels to exquisite birds, the tree is a wealth of lilting music in the wee hours of the morning when its feathered residents cheerily herald a new day. That certainly beats the harsh beep of the finest alarm clock! While filtering life-giving sunlight into my patio, the foliage of the large green leaves shelter my bedroom from the scorching heat of the midday sun. The robust, lush green tree is my refuge, my quiet friend whenever I feel defeated by life.

During stormy monsoon weather, the tree sways menacingly, its leaves rustling and hustling, sending a shiver down my spine. Heavens forbid, if it falls, it will land straight on our building! In spite of the shadow of fear lurking, I love to watch the sight – the howling wind winding its way between the branches, tickling and shaking every leaf and fruit. It is as though the tree and the wind are deeply engrossed in an intelligent conversation on weighty topics of universal importance. I listen in, losing myself in the hushed sounds. Thoughts cease and time stands still. Effortless meditation is what is experienced.

One fine morning I woke up to the sound of hacking and falling of branches. Looking out of the window, my heart ached and I shed silent tears, for the once lustrous tree now stood bare, fruitless, leafless, stripped off its beauty.

My morning ritual of watching the tree and its various residents had ended. I just didn’t have the heart to open the windows in the mornings, because the sight of the sad, barren tree was heart wrenching... no chirping birds, no screeching squirrels…just solemn silence.

When I returned from vacation a week later, I dreaded looking out of the window at the thought of finding a miserable looking, barren tree trunk. But I was in for a pleasant surprise. Tiny green shoots were sprouting from a number of spots on the tree trunk. The splashes of bright green of the new tender leaves promised a new start, a new life.

I watched in wonder, smiling at the hope it signalled. Though it was stripped bare, denuded off every leaf and branch, it had come around and started afresh – because it was firmly, deeply rooted. Had its roots not gone deep, it would have given way and probably withered to death.

While it gave me renewed hope that I too could start afresh, it reminded me of the necessity of being rooted in one’s core values. That alone would help me withstand the crazy, unexpected storms of life and get back to my feet every time life served a hard blow. No wonder the Beatles sang, ‘The deeper you go, the higher you fly.’

Shine On Silver Girl

NOTE: Nothing in this blog is intended to represent anyone, alive or dead, and there is no offence meant to anyone. 

When I got to know that my cousin’s daughter had delivered a bonny baby, absolutely delighted I called her up. ‘Congratulations grandma!’

‘Eeeeks!’ she shrill, nearly making me deaf.

‘Don’t call me grandma! I am still young!’

‘Eh? But you have become a grandmother and that’s what the baby is eventually going to call you, right?’

‘No, no….she will call me tai (sister), like everyone else.’

‘But why?! Aaji (grandmother) is such an endearing term! I certainly want to be called aaji.’

‘No way! You are too young to be called aaji!’

‘For heaven’s sake, being called aaji is not going to change my age or yours!’

‘Still… aaji feels old’.

I gave up. How can being called something, change the reality of my age?

The other aversion is to being called uncle, aunt, or grandfather. All these are irrevocably considered synonymous with being old! No matter the age, there are those who still want to be called didi and tai (sister) or dada and bhaiyya (brother)!

I became a maushi (aunt) and was called the same at five, when my cousin delivered a baby. That same baby grew up and became a mother recently, making me a grandmother at 30. And what a joy it is to be called aaji (grandmother)! You have to experience it to know what I’m talking about.

Old and older are relative terms. For my 83 year old father, his 60 plus nieces and nephews are ‘girls and boys’, ‘children’. To me these same girls and boys, being my cousins, are young people. Of course, I am aware of their receding hairlines, grey hair and lined skin, yet, I perceive them as young.

It really doesn’t matter, whether we consider ourselves old or not. We definitely know what our age is. I watch the youthful exuberance and energetic chatter of my nieces and nephews, aged between 10 to 30 and it’s obvious I don’t belong to that age group.

Mention your age and pat comes the clichéd phrase meant to lighten the imagined burden of being old, ‘Age is in the mind! Don’t worry, you still look so young!’

We grow right from day one, beginning as a mono cellular organism; and grow in leaps and bounds in the first year of our life. There is no looking back ever, till our very last day on earth. Growing is a continuous, mandatory truth of life. Yet, we shy from accepting this brazen fact. From dyeing black the few hair on top of the bald pate, keeping long the only line of hair at the back of the otherwise bald head (which looks horrendous as the hair grows and the line of dyed hair moves down creating a line of black and silver)! Laser treatments and Botox injections to smoothen out the wrinkles, wearing youthful clothes that look out of sync with our very obviously ageing or aged body.  Seriously, who are we kidding? What is it that make us want to present ourselves as what we are not? Trying to look young, in no way changes the fact – our age, the degeneration of our body. It is natural, normal and inevitable.

There is also that pressure exerted on those who don’t. With obvious shock, grey haired people are often asked, ‘You don’t dye your hair? You will look old!’  A firm, loud ‘So?’ generally gets no answer.

It really doesn’t matter how old we look; what matters is how we look at life. A change in outlook can change the look of everything around us. Nothing can make us look as old as when we are desperately trying to look younger than we are. Today is the oldest we’ve ever been and the youngest we’ll ever be again. Knowing that, does it not make more sense to make the best of today instead of trying to live in yesterday?

Let's hold our head high and stride out confidently; it’s time to let the silver streak(s) shine!

The Significance of Being Insignificant

Anu, my next door neighbour barged into my room, without even waiting for her knock on the door to be answered. Her face was flushed and she was ready to burst into tears. Plopping herself on my bed she waited for me to join her. Obviously something was terribly wrong somewhere and she was hurting. Placing my hand on her hand, I softly asked, ‘Is everything okay, Anu?’

‘No! Nothing is okay!’ she burst out.

Anu was a middle school teacher in one of the most reputed private schools in Mumbai. An extremely innovative, hardworking  and much liked teacher, she was recently appointed Section Head of the middle school. I waited for her to go on.

‘I have no idea why the school has appointed Section Heads at all! I tell you, the headmistress! Oof! Not a pin can be moved without her permission! Literally! If she is going to decide everything, why should we be given the charge of Section Heads? The Management decided to appoint Section Heads in order to reduce the load of responsibilities on her shoulders. But do you think she wants to let go? No way!’

‘Even for something as mundane as assigning teachers for substitution, we have to take her permission! Can you beat that? Why should two people work on the same minor tasks? She might as well handle it herself and I can focus on my teaching instead of wasting my time and energy on job duplication.’

‘Shreya, the Section Head of the senior school was so upset today. The HM gave directions entirely contrary to what Shreya had assigned to the peons just yesterday. Imagine Shreya’s frustration. All her careful planning gone for a toss! Besides, the peons will not take her word seriously anymore. They know now that the real authority is the HM alone. How is Shreya supposed to function? How is any of us supposed to function?’

Be it in a business, where the father does not let go of the reins for the children, or the mother holding on to the house and kitchen long after her children are married. Be it heads of institutions who want to be the one taking even minor decisions, or project heads and directors who will keep every decision in their hands. That’s not all, we find even student representatives in colleges, team leaders, Heads of Departments, principals, class monitors in schools... just about in every position of authority and importance that the one in the hot seat, does not want to let go. Yes, kissa kursi ka takes place not only in politics, but in every nook of life. Age, gender, community and nationality are no bar.

The irony is, that the ‘oppressed’ in time take over to become the oppressor, forgetting completely what it felt like to be the one oppressed. In some cases, it is not forgotten, and the tenure becomes a time to get back. Alas, the one bearing the brunt now, is often not the one who caused the suffering to begin with. So who are we really taking revenge on? Often this ‘holding on’ is the cause of strife, stress and bitterness in what could otherwise have been healthy, happy relationships.

What exactly is the psychology behind this holding on and wanting to retain control? Fear of being insignificant? Fear of being forgotten? Lack of self-confidence? Greed? Selfishness? Attachment? The possibilities and explanations are many. The important thing is to be alert enough not to fall into that trap ourselves. Madonna’s song ‘to have and not to hold’ is one worth singing to ourselves every morning!

The only thing significant about our existence is our insignificance in the universe. Once this fact is internalised, and we live in awareness of our insignificance and indispensable existence, we can live free, enjoying everything we have, without being weighed down by our strong holds.

The Essentials of Being Essential

The parking area in our office building would put any driving test arena to shame. An area meant for eight cars, somehow accommodates anything from ten to fourteen cars of all shapes and sizes. Is it magic? No. It’s Ashok.

Ashok is the security guard. Ashok does not know to drive. Yet, without him, all of us drivers are on tenterhooks. It is probably his spacial skills, or imagination, or I don’t know what, but he guides even the worst amongst us to take the vehicle out, even in reverse, without as much as a scratch. You have to see the parking lot to understand what kind of a herculean task I’m talking about. Take a look at the photograph.

‘Cut marke…left se….haan haan…ab seedha…seedha…right se cut mariye….thoda…bas bas….ab seedha….’ and you are out safe and sound. When Ashok guides, the rear view mirrors become redundant. In fact, I would do it with my eyes closed. Except that I need to see the guiding gestures that Ashok makes. When driving under his directions, I keep my brain in ‘Follow Ashok’s Instructions’ mode, with no thinking of my own. That’s the kind of faith I have in his non-driving driving skills. Believe me, that’s what we all do.

But life is such that sometimes there are catastrophes – Ashok goes on long leave! A whole month without Ashok? I nearly give up driving and certainly give up driving in reverse out of the parking lot!

A simple man doing a regular security guards job which mainly involves opening and closing the gate. Yet, Ashok has mastered the skill of guiding drivers and making maximum use of the parking lot. This simple skill makes him essential, makes him wanted and indispensable for the smooth functioning of the parking lot and our peace of mind (no driving around in circles looking for parking). There are so many other guards who come and go as per their shift, but only Ashok has made an indelible mark in our minds and made himself essential to our daily survival.

How essential am I in this world? Which skill(s) have I mastered? Would it make a difference to anyone’s life if I disappeared on long leave? How many would be aghast at my absence? How many would miss me? Eh…I think I’d rather not have answers to these questions! Ignorance is bliss!