Goodbye idealism

I remember rejoicing to the victory of this nobody, against an incumbent politician in New Delhi. I remember getting teary-eyed when he acknowledged, "Main bahut chhota aadmi hun, meri aukat hi kya hai". I was a proud and hopeful part of this anti-corruption movement. I appreciated Kejriwal's "genuine" words and "selfless" efforts. And I don't regret any of it. But the person who was deeply touched by it all was a different me. The stance and actions of AAP have been partly responsible for changing certain aspects of me fundamentally.

• I'd always identified myself as a dreamer. Like pursuing perfection is a rare, distinguishing skill, worth celebrating. Perhaps it is. But I now realize that it a hollow one too. A dream is meaningless and pointless if it is not supported by the appreciation of current truth and a deliberate alignment of all your actions. 
• I've also often taken pride in my ability to ask fundamental questions on the status quo. Though I now realize that practicality lies not in those existential questions but in taking steps towards constant improvisation. 
• I remember being this girl who stood by the "right thing"; who judged people and situations through the lens of her own bias; who rejoiced at the concept of "Satyamev jayate". I was a person who believed in true love, in utopia, in a life of purpose. All that has shattered in the light of current circumstances. 

Kejriwal and co - I would still like to believe that whatever you are doing is because you care. And I hope you'd find your way soon. It's strange that a certain language that gave me goosebumps before sounds massively melodramatic today. Words that inspired me earlier make me laugh out aloud now. Thanks for bringing this significant change. In me.

Of absurdity

Life sure seems like a long journey. But if I step aside and look at it as an outsider, I see I've only run around a circle all my life. Chasing. Suffering. Condemning. Believing. Seeking. Celebrating. The objects change but the game persists. The desire to fill up the void within manifests itself into different forms. The longing for love. The passion to conquer. The inclination towards a faith or ideology. The return to intoxication. The satisfaction from acting morally or bringing a societal change. The attachment to an identity that I call 'me'. I subconsciously produce these coverups but nothing truly brings fulfillment. The closest I get to happiness is by reinforcing the belief that I am happy (because my life is perfect) and by brutally murdering the negative emotions. But these solutions are short-lived. And I've cheated myself repeatedly, subconsciously always knowing that something isn't fine. That the fulfillment has just not been there. That it is no where on the horizon.
Clueless, helpless I continue to run around the circle of hope and despair. Not like a particle that, bound by laws, revolves around a nucleus. I move like an anarchist. Chasing not an ambition. Following not an ideology. Acting not to fulfill my desires. Not knowing the point of doing this or that. Amused by the meaningless conviction of those around me. But also by my own absurdity.

Am I lost forever?

I was born in a family that did not pray everyday. My dad was an atheist all his young adult life.
But given my own experiences, I grew up believing "Everything happens for a reason". Like there is a superpower that sets forth our destiny right when we are born. Like everything in this universe acts the way it does because it has been designed to happen that way. Like no one has a control, but everything works out fine. For everyone. Eventually.
But that was a flawed belief. Since if that's true, why do some babies die out of illnesses? Why do some people live not knowing anything but poverty and hunger. I couldn't tell them "Everything happens for a reason", could I? I spent the next few years of my life reading about different religions. No offense to anyone, but nothing made slightest sense to me at the time. Some explained how the son of God suffered for humanity. Some talked of a holy messengers and a supreme god who get offended by the slightest of questioning or ridicule. I did slightly and temporarily got inclined to my own religion as it offered options. And I began to interpret Gita and the vedas to my own liking and convenience.
And then a widespread bug bit me. The law of attraction. Thoughts become things. Power of positive thinking. I gave it a shot too and did experience a few miracles myself, like some of my friends did. This brought a paradigm shift in my philosophy. From a mindset that all power belongs to the creator, I suddenly felt I owned the power to transform my life just by thinking and feeling good. But the biggest realization that this phase brought to me is that controlling your thoughts and feelings is way more challenging than it seems. It destroys your peace of mind because all the negative feelings are obstructed and buried inside you. The philosophy of positive thinking wasn't sustainable enough to be clung on to. But I did feel that the power to create my life somehow rested within me. How to utilize that was a big question. So I turned to the gurus.
I listened to Osho, but he was more of a question than an answer. I listened to Deepak Chopra for a few months and was impressed by how he linked the discoveries in latest physics with his spiritual teachings. But at some point, he turned into an extremely materialistic and egoistic person in my mind. He became a brand that sells books on laws of spirituality and looks impeccably made up in his videos.
Around the same point, I began to find some peace in the words of Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev, who talks about an attitude of Agnosticism. But he talks openly about his 'enlightenment' and I just couldn't correlate enlightenment with the occasional outbursts of violence that I experienced in his opinions.
My next haven was J Krishnamurti. Honestly, I only began to start reading him because my dad mentioned about him once and said "he was a great philosopher, but difficult to understand for common people." A loser in my own eyes, I wanted to listen to this guy and reassure myself that I am at least good at this one thing - pondering about life. He shook me. Like nothing ever before. His words made me question everything I've ever believed in. What does 'belief' even mean - being lazy about finding the truth through logic and succumbing to someone else's or your own fancy ideals? Just accepting certain things as moral or immoral because society defines them so? He even brought a sense of spiritual dissonance within me. I began wondering if living a life of purpose meant anything. I haven't seen within myself extreme talent, deep passion or the strength to follow a single cause. Can my life have any purpose? Endless videos on theoretical physics suggested to me that nothing in the universe has a purpose. And perhaps a piece of stone is as conscious as I am.
JK suggested an approach of self-observation, which made sense to me and even brought me a lot of mental peace. But now this calm feels like absence of life to me. I know money or love cannot make me content. I cannot even dream of something that would grant any meaning to my existence or make me sustainably happy. I actually don't see any hope for myself going forward. Nor can I go back to any of my previous beliefs as they seem ridiculous, superficial and almost non-sensical to me now. I feel like dying even though my life is filled with awesome people and opportunities.
Am I locked in this lost state forever?

Empty Silence

I am at peace. Much more than I have ever been. I am at ease with the world, and with myself. I am able to accept negative things most of the times without having the urge to judge. Disturbances in my world do not affect me as strongly as they used to. I am also trying to simplify life by turning minimalistic (read quality and minimal purchases). But this is turning me immensely lazy, not just physically. I have started to ignore things and forget matters. 

Is this the silence I had been looking for? This dead, empty silence? Is it even close to what I want?

Am I the observer or the observation?

I am getting used to this observation practice. Every time I feel excited, depressed, angry, proud or hopeful, an alarm goes off inside me. I don't resist any of the drama inside, I just watch it silently and it melts away. Though I wonder which part of me plays the drama and which one observes? And which part of me is now analyzing that situation? 

It is common to believe that the mind, sometimes also referred to as the ego, is separate from the soul and the physical body. But my recent experience has put a question to that belief. I've begin to realize that the division between mind, body and soul is not so clear.

Sometimes, two clear voices inside me argue over a concept. There's something in me observes the flow of thoughts and emotions, and passes running comments inside as it does so. When I sense the joy of a hot shower - I do not know if it is the body or the mind that savors the sweetness of the experience? Where does the sensory perception end and the mind begin? Where do emotions live and how do they interact with the thoughts? How does the self distinguish from the ego? I feel that if I split myself into a million parts, I can still not crack the maze that 'I am'.

I am intrigued to hear JK mention, "The Observer is the Observed". I hope to see for myself. 

Conversations inside me

"We are all chained to some extent. To our prejudices, beliefs and choices. We are all bound. What matters is how aware we are of our conditionings. "

My ego: Hey, not me! I am the most open-minded one among my acquaintances. My past may be a bit sloppy but I have a bright future ahead of me. I am a dreamer and I'd live for my dream.

Self: Really? Aren't you a prisoner of your own dreams? 

Ego: Well, technically yes. But dreaming is necessary for happiness! What's life without a purpose?

Self: Hmm. What if Playing Football is your biggest passion and you terminally injure your legs? Or what if you love singing and suddenly lose your voice?

Ego: Are you a sadist or what? Anyway, you know what I'd do? I'd still fight. I'd get artificial legs and play with them. Or I'd dedicate my life to help other singers achieve their dreams.

Self: What if you also become broke and unable to do help anyone else or yourself?

Ego: Shut up! Nothing like that will happen.

Self: You know anything can happen. I can smell some fear inside you already.

Ego: I create my own reality. Through my hardwork and good karma.

Self: Oh you mean misfortune only attacks lazy and immoral people? That's a mean thing to say to the poor orphan Raju, who was captured by a beggar gang on the Delhi roads when he was just three and a half years old, that he deserved his misery. You should be ashamed of yourself!

Ego: Come one. I didn't mean that! Of course it wasn't his fault.

Self: So you mean some different sets of spiritual laws apply to you? Hmm.. Have you located a loophole in the cosmic plan? Muahahaha.

Ego: All right. What do you want?

Self: You said, "What's life without a purpose?"

Ego: Yes, I still stand by it.

Self: A life of purpose implies that joy of the journey lies in the anticipation of the destination.

Ego: Not exactly anticipation.. Hmm.. Yes ok! That's probably what I mean.

Self: You are basically saying that life is nothing unless spent in the anticipation of some distant dream. What if you never reach there? That life would be worse. Or what if when you get there you realize that the truth isn't even close to as beautiful as the imagination. That would be the worst thing right?

Ego: :( Hmm. You make me miserable. You know that right?

Self: Yes, because you live in a false world, blinded by your beliefs. I make you miserable because I speak the truth. Nevertheless, what I am coming to is: There is nothing worse than a life spent in anticipation. NOW is all that we have. In anticipation, we miss all the NOWs that constitute our life. What's left is an empty, meaningless shell dude!

Ego: I feel completely lost now! How can one live without purpose?

Self: That's for me to discover eventually. Once you die, I'll start living....

One step closer...

I've always found it boring to meditate. I find it very difficult to be completely aware of the present moment too. But the practice that has finally resonated with me is observing myself and others as a third person. It's become really fun to do, as I've begun to get the hang of it.

When I'm deep in anger, I consciously let myself yell. When I am pained, I let my tears flow. When I'm happy, I let myself rejoice the way I wish. I also enjoy feeling the state of the people around me by imagining their conditioning and biases. But behind the conscious indulgence in all these feelings is a watchful, observant self. I try to keep that self alive, though majority of the time it stays merged with my ego. I basically wish to enhance my perception of the world through the process. And get a step or two closer to the supreme truth.

Have you ever tried to observe yourself? 

Breaking my silence

"Hang the rapists!"

"Castrate the bastards!"

"Girls must not wear provocative clothes or stay outside at night."

"It's all an effect of westernization. Our Indian values are dying."

"Only the harshest punishment can solve the problem."

It all feels like dark humor to me. As the country continues to endure an unbearable headache, everyone is suggesting the strongest doses of painkillers, ignoring the possibility of a deadly tumor inside. What a shame! Could we for once, as disgusting as it may sound, step into the shoes of a rapist and understand what made him so? I can see clearly so many reasons and am sure that you can come up with many more:

First, our society illogically dismisses a fundamental need of humanity. Sexuality is considered sinful or sacred depending upon the context, but never an obvious urge. Women, with naturally higher self-control and larger obligation of preserving their chastity, mostly accept abstinence. Men, obviously then, become greater victims of the sexual oppression and develop mental aberrations of several kinds.

Second, though our society clarifies its expectations of sexual restriction, it does not show a path. Having taken away the practices of yoga and dhyana from curriculum, how do we expect the men to observe brahmacharya? Is self-control or compassion systematically taught or rewarded in our schools or homes? Or do we have a commonly known fix for the sex hormones?

Third, through our tendency of covering up women, we have objectified them. And so, a few girls in cities who display their shape or skin must seem like desserts amongst a widespread famine. Now, what would be a viable solution? Covering up the desserts, suppressing the appetite, justifying hunger, raising punishment for defaulters or simply accepting that the hunger exists.

Fourth, in most parts of the country women are possessed. Women surrender. Women obey. Boys grow up seeing this in their homes and neighborhood, sometimes even in the most posh localities. Isn't it natural, then, for men to harness this inclination to own a woman or defile her if she revolts?

Fifth, it's in men's nature to openly explore their sexuality (unlike most women). The film industry, print media, television and internet all cater to a grave and unmet need in the country, thereby intensifying it much further. A lot of men who haven't yet turned rapists have at some point groped a passing girl, touched private parts of unconscious acquaintances, rubbed themselves against women in traffic and indulged themselves that unintended show of tender skin. I have heard and seen so many instances around me. Haven't you?

Let's drop all our previous conditioning and think impartially for a moment - if a problem is so widespread, can it be an individual's fault and can it be cured just by fixing the offenders. When a man has gone mad in his lust, he is blinded by everything else. Isn't it foolishness to expect that the crime that most commonly arises out of a subconscious dearth can be contained by punishment?

Don't get me wrong. I am not justifying rapes by any means - I am a girl myself! I am just looking at the issue objectively and logically. I am just saying that you and I, given the DNA and life experiences of a rapist would have been exactly like him. The problem is very deep and widespread, and requires a more holistic solution. Perhaps encouraging self-reflection, compassion or open-minded spirituality in the society? Whole-hearted acceptance of body's sexual needs? Effective dissemination of techniques for self-abstinence? Eradication of violence and sex from media? May be a combination of all or something totally different? I am no moral police. This is just my attempt to break my silence amongst the mad anger and irrational arguments that I have been witnessing for months.

This moment, here...

Here I am. Sitting by the window of my bedroom looking at the world beyond. Soaking up the view of a beautiful city from the 20th floor. Just like I’d always wanted. Why did it take me 6 weeks to realize that I’m living my dream? Why am I always so invested in my past or future that I cannot live in the NOW?

All that is true is this. My room lit up with the clouded sunlight. My eyes moistened by the cheesy drama in Aashiqui 2. My heart thinking of you - the only one who deserves every bit of me. Because you are the one who can love my dreams more than I do. The one who can happily live away from me, carrying me in your heart all the time. The one who has assured me that I deserve the love of this capacity.

I hope to see that capacity within myself one day. I love you…

Noise

My life feels so scattered right now. Perhaps because my mind is not in order. And I am tired of my mind. There is a constant noise going on inside. An endless chatter. Uncontrolled. Unformatted. It means something in bits and pieces, but is pretty meaningless overall.

I wonder how would silence feel like. Pure silence. Serenity. Effortlessness. I wanna rise up to that silence. And so I must go through the noise.

Lost and Tired

I feel so lost today. Trembling in the fear that had perhaps been hiding all these days under my serene mind. 

I observe. As I cry. As I feel guilty of the past and fearful of the future. I am not aware of the NOW. And I do not want to care about it too. The philosophy that I had been developing these days feels like a big piece of bullshit. The power of my consciousness does not seem infinite any more. It doesn’t even seem limited to me. I feel like I am completely powerless. I have no control over what is happening to me. And to make matters worse, I have no clue right now about what I really want.

I feel tired and I do not want to think anymore.

The Nature of Desire

It was perhaps the best graduation I could have asked for. I graduated from a distinguished MBA school, with the love of my life. I spoke before a crowd of over 200 as one of the three graduate representatives. Finally, both of us were granted the ‘Outstanding Graduate’ Awards. And if that wasn’t enough, I received several compliments on my speech - from the dean, MBA director, professors and fellow students. Theoretically, I should be on top of the world.

And yet my mind harbors several negative thoughts. The concern of being judged by fellow-classmates on the award.. The disappointment with probable incorrect english usage in my speech.. The pain of still being dependent on my family for my financial needs.. The anxiety associated with an unclear career path.. The guilt for receiving more joy than many others.. And a fear of the adversities about to follow this near-perfect celebration.. Does that say anything about human nature?

One can never be truly happy if happiness is sourced from external world. There is no end, whatsoever, to human desire.

An argument against meditation

Between all the dejection on the job hunt front, I had a private moment of glory today - a moment too menial to be shared with anyone else yet too special to be not saved for my future reference.

I have had an internal conflict against the entire idea of meditation for it offers you only a temporary haven not a permanent abode. And the concept of sitting and observing my thoughts just bores me. My argument has been that if meditation is just about observing one’s thoughts and actions, I could as well try to do it consciously day and night, instead of a periodic ritual. And I have been trying to do that, to some extent at least. But I hadn’t found a supporting theory to my idea so far. None of the gurus or philosophies seemed to be talking about extending meditation to all walks of your life.

J Krishnamurti is by far the most inspiring philosopher to me, for he doesn’t answer my questions but inspires me to admit that I don’t know a lot. He doesn’t offer a path like a guru; instead renders me as the strongest entity in my life. I saw a JK video for the first time today where he discussed meditation with Dr Allan Anderson. And he talked about the thing I had unheard of anywhere else but my mind - futility of the meditation that does not involve your entire being. Hence, my favorite philosopher has become the only person so far who voiced out this irrationally significant thought of mine. And as an imperfect individual, I seek incredible pride and joy from this fact.

Reference:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsqWkJ8fNWE

Breaking free from conditioning and judgment

Amidst two of my closest friends suffering tension in their respective marital lives, I have realized how a perfectly reasonable human being is capable of becoming unbelievably apathetic as well as irrationally empathetic to another person’s suffering. After spending several years believing that we are in complete control of our minds and our lives, I am observing a very different perspective now.

Life presents to us choices at every point in time. In a sense, the choice that we make at a given moment determines what happens to us in future. But isn’t that choice driven by the wisdom of our past interpretations of the tiniest experiences around us?

Weirdly enough, the exact same event could have different interpretations for two persons with varying prejudices, value systems or mental faculties. If we trace back, the chain of interpretation starts at the very moment of our inception - when we possess nothing but a body and a certain level of mental capability. Let us imagine a hypothetical situation from the world of Oliver Twist:

Three orphan kids (A, B and C), with no previous prejudice about the world , enter an orphanage that offers extreme deprivation and discipline. Everyday they see that the matron enjoys all the benefits (mouthwatering food, warm clothes, comfortable home etc) that they can ever fancy. Once, child A requests the matron to let him taste a mango and gets beaten up for that request. Child A, perhaps then, may regard the world as divided between the powerful and the weak. He might start panicking about his safety and eventually become a compliant but fearful civilian. Child B, who happens to closely observe the joy on the face of the matron enjoying the mango, may see a proof of the link between power and joy. He might value pleasure and power going forward. Child C, who is shaken by the injustice done to child A, may make up his mind that the world ought to be made just, by any means necessary. He might begin to consider justice as the most important value. The three children are likely to then observe all the future events with glasses tinted by their prejudices and value systems. 

It is horrific for me to imagine the implications of the thought that's taking shape here. Doesn't a person become a brutal murderer because his experiences have made him deprived, desperate, adamant and inhumane - all at the same time? To would extent has he been driven by the circumstances and how much is he truly responsible?

In fact, isn’t it even illogical for a sacred cow to judge the morality of a ferocious tiger? What the cow sees as choice is actually a necessity for the tiger. And both of them are blinded their respective conditioning.

Tolerance or Self-respect?

Tolerance and self-respect have both been part of my pursuit. But now I wonder if it is self-derogatory to tolerate someone beloved who’s been offending your attempts to patch things up. What do you choose then - tolerance or self-respect? If you have the capacity to love some people so much, is it not unfair to deprive yourself of that love? Is it justified to treat your self-respect any less important than the ego of anyone else?

I have seen enough of people doing the unjust in similar situations. Parents wailing for the grown-up children who just don’t want to return, women sobbing before their husbands to abandon the mistresses, and guys shedding blood for their ex-girlfriends. All that disgraceful struggle and pain arises when one side is trying much harder than the other. It makes me believe that a relationship that cannot survive effortlessly will and must come to an end. 

Pursuit of the ultimate

My love for books… It’s not like the desire of a sculptor to create beauty, the fascination of a poet for romance or the devotion of a dancer to rhythm. It is simply like the passion of imperfection for perfection.

I love new ideas. A single page of meaningfully written text can have an explosive effect on me. It can take me over completely, offering so many perspectives that mercilessly intrude into the continuous dialogue inside me - a philosophical dialogue so abstract and subconscious that, with time, is becoming more difficult to share even with my conscious self. I wonder if anyone who reads much more than me can possess any less curiosity and awe. I do not know if I represent a section of low intellect beings that get overwhelmed with the most menial thoughts or if the ability to savor the minor ripples on my surface is just a gift of proof to myself of my depth. I am not sure if it matters either way. Books, after all, represent to me not a proud collection, but an infinity of ideas that have the potential to form a whole new universe - one that can hold my consciousness for eternity. Books represent to me a key to overcome the horror of stagnation; a path to ultimate truth.

Recently, though, it has dawned upon me that this obsession of mine seems purely pretentious to some. And obsession is so often judged in black or white. Perhaps, the world isn’t worthy of sharing one’s true self. Or does it matter at all?

Internal Conflict

Reading the Fountainhead and JK’s philosophy simultaneously during my desperate job hunt has made my mind feel like the inside of a violent crusher. What do I do when two powerful conflicting thoughts are mocking at the fallacy of a being within me that I’m trying hard to save. Without this fake being, I have no identity, no name. I want to hold on to it because it is the source and haven for all my pleasure. And it is my only hope to survive in this obviously fake world. I cling on to this entity within me, trembling in fear. But the two thoughts laugh aloud - one mocking the shallowness of my identity and the other questioning the purpose of its existence. Yet, I let the two thoughts survive and swell, in my ultimate hope for redemption, in my hope to curb the constant suffering caused by an unknown fear.

An artificial boost to self-worth

It’s amazing how special a gesture of appreciation can make you feel. It’s equally saddening too. Yesterday, I learnt that my team’s project proposal was demonstrated as the best example to our following batch. And the excellence of the presentation was being accredited to the fact that we had a consultant in the team. Something inside me exclaimed when the entire glory was bestowed on my teammate, who did his internship at BCG and who, in reality, mostly contributed to the research. The presentation was my responsibility, my contribution. I defended myself. And immediately felt foolish for doing so. Still, I secretly longed for more appreciation from those around me - an appreciation that, I knew, would not have any significance - for anyone. 

Why do our instincts spontaneously respond to our need for external recognition?

When will I relinquish the need for external approval?

When will I internalize the fact that I am inferior to none, superior to none?

Autumn

Its that time of the year again

When I’m cold, brittle and dry

Dreaming of spring, quietly I sigh

When my beautiful leaves have abandoned me

I rant, cheated by my own destiny

When i struggle alone against the blow of nature

Protecting in vain, my pseudo stature

Once felt like tallest, I now feel grounded

By shallow pity I’ve been surrounded

It’s that time of the year again

When pain is blindingly profound

Though life has hit the bottom, only to rebound

Heaven and hell

I had an interesting conversation with one of my new friends today. He shared a thought that moved me profoundly. And I wonder why it never occurred to me before!
Are heaven and hell just different states of our post-life conscience or ethereal liberation? Do they only refer to the way we feel when we die and come to terms with our true selves? Is heaven the sense of satisfaction or serenity that's experienced by a compassionate and guilt-free soul? Is hell nothing but the remorse of a sinful spirit?

Seems plausible...