Life’s a stage

Life can be a pleasant and peaceful revelation, when we stop to smell the roses, instead of rushing to pick them

BY MADHUCHANDA DAS

Of late, I’ve been fiddling a lot with the retro button of life’s remote – now on, now off. The appearing absurdity of this action has actually managed to whip up a storm and transform my life’s dominant landscape. It has compelled me to speculate on the essence of existence and the lifeblood of living a socalled ‘complete life’. This is probably a natural sign of hitting the wrong side of thirty when quests, cravings and ambitions start giving way to pleasant nostalgia. One looks back fondly as opposed to racing ahead manically. I can liken my life to a play in three acts, so here we go…

Act I

Assuming we’re all familiar with the much clichéd rat race of life, I had the privilege of choosing either Highness Happiness or Pretty Perfection as my trusted comrade-in-arms nee navigator in the uber cool manic dash of modern times. As expected, my middleclass mindset guided me (in true blue Shakuni-mama style) to opt for what the larger aam janta was betting its stakes on. Oblivious and shorn of any worldly wisdom, I assumed (like most ordinary mortals) that perfection and excellence were natural gateways to the heaven of happiness. After all, what defines happiness …bada ghar, ussey bhee badee gaadi, khush family and the rest? So chasing the irritatingly elusive Pretty Perfection became my second nature and favourite fixation.

I drew strength and inspiration from past chapters of life where Perfection had determined my choices and priorities. Just as it had been the implicit cornerstone of all my parents’ sermonizing when I was another clumsy, cribbing child. It defined my manners, grades, choice of subjects and uni scores as a gawky teenager; and my jobs, promotions and relationships as a foreveraspiring adult. Akin to a never-say-die personal trainer, it sternly monitored my grind. It incessantly poured the ‘can-and-will-do’ mantra into my ears as I frantically pranced through the maverick race of life. It fed my typically human trait to leave the pack far behind in a self-absorbed trek to the peak of earthly acquisitions and egoistic consummation. It never let me be my ordinary self but goaded me to don varied masks, evolve, metamorphose and be chameleon-like to suit the ever-changing rules of the game. It taught me to be superficial, sly, sugary-sweet or suave, depending on the situation. It made me envious when I didn’t attain this or that, and puffed me up when I did. It relentlessly satiated the pent-up steam in my systemic pressure co oker, carefully sealing any safety valves. My pressures invisibly built up, but so did the ambition, drive and the heady high of success. And thus, in this Kurukshetra of circumstances, I played my dices of Rajneeti, assuming it to be my only Karma in the Mahabharata of life. I continued in the marathon, at times leading, on occasions trailing, and throwing caution to the wind. There is also a life after the finish line, but who cares?

Act II

As months and years glided past, my muscles and joints started revolting and fatigue began plaguing me. The inner voice, ignored until now got louder. At first I snubbed it with the remnants of my never-say-die strength, but it soon got the better of me. Hopelessness and desperation hovered in the atmosphere. Used to chutki mein dard bhagaaye sprays and balms, I desperately hunted for instant nirvana, for gurus, for answers and for solace. Petty (yes,

Pretty had turned to Petty) Perfection had moved on, flirtingly forging new relationships with fresher blood, leaving my harried soul helplessly stranded in dilemma land. Now this land is a modern Alice’s Wonderlandflamboyant and glamorous, new age and tech savvy, but inhabited by spiritually poor souls, already into or fast approaching their twilight years. They are depressed, lonely, stressed out, glum and isolated. Now what? And where to? Is this the end of the road or is there light at the end of the tunnel?

Act III

I decided to sit under the cool shade of my Bodhi tree of realization and retrospection. Highness Happiness still beckoned me, though I had forsaken it many summers ago for Petty Perfection. It gently knocked on the doors of my parched and sick soul, and entered to welcome me with no qualms. My near-wrecked nerves felt a soothing calm, similar Ma’s khichdi and cool palm on my burning forehead as the fever raged through my clumsy, cribbing child’s body.

After much contemplation, I garnered enough strength to resume the march with renewed vigouronly this time it wasn’t a race but a relaxed, unwinding journey. For the first time in many years, my morning walk with companions felt liberating. It was indeed spiritually elevating to behold the beauty of dawn, to smell roses with fragile dew drops strewn over them, to feel the breeze on my cheeks when lying on the grass, to inhale positive energies and to smile and wave at others. Gone was the hurry to be first or the feeling of grumpiness at someone else’s relaxed pace. I could wait, catch up and move forward in collaborative unison. And above all, I could experience and enjoy the simplicity and happiness of each ordinary, uneventful day.

My Mahabharata was over - it was now time to rebuild joys, relationships and life itself. I was at peace to have had figured out my dharma, and I hope you find yours one of these days.