Simply Being | Simple Being

Category: This-That (page 19 of 234)

Community – Yes, No

“Ahh, it’s that time of the year when it’s all about community.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just look at Facebook. All those pictures from Garba, Navaratri, Durga Puja, etc… Everyone’s part of some community. A religious one, or a spiritual one, a cultural group, a social organization.”

“Ok.”

“But I am not part of a community.”

“Sure, you are.”

“No, I am not. I am connected to individuals but I am not part of a community.”

“That’s not true. I am sure that many consider you part of the community.”

“Well, it does not matter because I don’t see myself as part of it. The reason being, I don’t identify with the values of the community any more. So I can’t see myself as being part of it.”

“Hmmm, do you want to be part of it?”

Silence.

I fell in love, I just did

Dearest, I love you not because you are kind or smart. Or sensitive or creative. I love you, I just do. I fell in love in a very illogical/unreasonable way, I just did, and the reasons revealed themselves later. I do think that the reasons make you seem like a smart, kind, good guy. Perhaps you are one. Or not. It does not seem to matter.

I fell in love in a way that is silly to explain. “I love you because…. because… because.” It is stupid, it really is! I fell in love, and it just happened on its own. If I had a list of qualities I was checking off, then I’d probably not have picked you. The truth is that I never had a list. Now that I am truly/madly/deeply in love, I can make a good, solid list. I can share it with young lovers.

“Make sure he is kind. Notice the little things he does. Is he rude to waiters? Is he impatient?” And so on.

Was I checking mentally as we went through the motions of love-courtship-romance? Perhaps, a silent corner of my heart kept relaying “good, good” to me all the time. No alarm bells rang, no red flags popped up. And I was satisfied.

I fell in love so simply, I just did. I put all mental math out of the equation. I fell in love, then made up the reasons afterward. And you know what? I bet you did the same. And of course, I wanted to let everyone know that I am a smart cookie, and I picked well. Even in love, I am smart! Not reckless or foolish! But that’s all hindsight, 20/20, etc. In reality, love or attraction made all the choices. My intellect took a backseat. It observed silently, putting in a word every now and then, but not much.

Darling, it is my love that made you the perfect guy. It’s my love that elevated you, made you smart and kind and special and intelligent and sensitive.

Projecting “Beautiful” Ideas

Conversation between a mother and her eight-year-old son:

Darling, we need to move our car because it is blocking Nimmi Aunty’s car.

Mom, who is Nimmi Aunty?

She is an Aunty who has just moved into the city. She is very beautiful.

A pretty innocuous and regular conversation, no? Right.

I think it’s all good too, except the “beautiful” part. Let me explain.

In my family, we are somewhat hair-obsessed. We notice hair all the time. As a child, I heard a lot of “Ooh, what lovely hair!” from my mother, aunt and cousins. So, it became obvious to me at a young age that good hair was golden for a woman. Straight or wavy, black or brown or grey, long or short… It didn’t matter. All you needed was lots of it, and you were set. Thus, the covetousness was born. Now, I am reasonably blessed in the hair department. But I always felt like it wasn’t enough. I remember praying earnestly, God, please give me 15% more hair on my head, just 15%.

I was naive enough to think that people with good hair had it set in life, and that losing hair (or having scanty hair) was a major misfortune. Yes, I was somewhat misguided.

As a student of communication (and life), I am fairly cautious about stating my opinions to young children and teenagers, especially when they revolve around beauty and attractiveness. The absolute last thing I wish to do is project my ideas on to their tender minds. I’d hate for them to take on my ideas as their own, consciously or not. If a youngster is sensitive, searching and impressionable, this becomes a real possibility.

No, I don’t want to create an impression on you. Neither do I want to lend you any of mine.

(Nimmi Aunty is truly a beautiful woman, I can vouch for that too.)

Most Burdensome of All

I have a friend who keeps his car stocked with water, fruit and snacks, so he can hand them out to homeless people on his way to work. One day, he gave a bottle of water to a homeless man. The guy looked at him askance, as if asking, c’mon, this is all you can give me? He took the water and walked away.

As he related the incident, my friend laughed. “You cannot expect gratitude even from a homeless man.”

My friend is a wise and compassionate guy, and I like to think he was half-joking when he said what he did.

It is truly burdensome to believe that you (or I) did a good deed, performed an act of kindness. There is a kind of oppressive weight to the idea and thought of it. In fact, I find it highly patronizing.

Service is a pure (perhaps the purest) form of self-expression. Millions of people perform acts of service on a daily basis without likely even being aware of it. They act on a whim, in a moment of complete spontaneity, responding to a need from someone somewhere. It takes an instant, the act is done, and everyone is off to their respective places.

It leaves everyone free: giver, receiver, bystanders.

I cringe a little when I hear well-meaning parents and teachers encouraging kids to think about “others,” “do something for others,” and so on.

So long as you think that you are doing something for others, you are going to be bound to the act, harbor a sense of expectation, even anticipate gratitude. I’d really like to walk away from it, be free of the typical trappings that come with “doing a good deed.”

Perhaps this comes across as fake modesty but it’s a little more than that.

It stems from a simple desire for freedom. To be released from expectation (of gratitude or whatever), to be free of the burdensome notion “I am helping another,” to be free of this terribly grand picture of self.