A number of people I know, including myself, fell ill in the high heat. I recovered physically fairly soon, but what would fix my mind? Hearing educated, entitled people complain incessantly both about the zooming temperature and life in general, my own fundamentally cheerful worldview began to dent.
I now felt ridiculous about ‘being positive’, like an absurd Pollyanna; this, despite knowing that my peace of mind would be ruined, I tipped over into permanent ‘crib mode’.
An alternate worldview showed up in the form of electricians Hunny and Suhel. They were pleasant and cheerful. Hunny obligingly mended my favourite hand fan, the one with delicate fretwork.
As they toiled away in the 43-degree-celsius heat, fixing the inverter that had suddenly packed up, I had one of those urban nirvana moments that hits us all, reminding us of what we already know but have let get scorched by the negativity around us. How would I feel in their place, I suddenly wondered, dashing from house to house, dealing patiently with irritable people?
This abrupt realisation that my gradually growing inner landscape of sada vasantam or ‘always Spring’, was being parched by the always-grumbling ‘society’ made me rush out with tall glasses of cold water with rose syrup. The star-shaped ice cubes floating on top amused the boys. I felt as though God in the form of two cheerful, hardworking electricians had just rapped my knuckles.
So, this is my (hopefully sustainable) summer strategy, thanks to those boys. I’m resuming my childhood ‘glad game’ like Pollyanna in the American children’s story from 1913. It means putting a positive spin on everything, even sad or annoying situations. Some can laugh at it as unrealistic optimism, but Hunnys and Suhels may keep me on track.
Reviewing what helps me stay on the path, I find it’s a funny mix of the values of the rationalist liberals whom I grew up among, and Naam, the ‘Name of God’ that I cling to. The ‘Name of God’ seems to translate into personal dos and don’ts. I don’t think it means we are immune to bad thoughts. But I think it does mean that we should be aware and watch our thoughts.
An old friend and legal luminary with a deep belief in Constitutional morality, who once attended Vipassana courses, told me how that works. ‘Watch our thoughts’ means, for instance, that when we feel angry, we realise that we’re feeling angry but don’t express it violently in everyday situations. Underlying such useful practices, ‘real religion’ does not seem to mean that we should sweat the small stuff like how we dress, what we eat and so on. In my view, that’s a personal cultural choice, not a deep religious belief. Rather, Naam seems to be about gratitude. As evident from stories, the one thing that seems to deeply annoy every single god and goddess is ingratitude.
The deities also seem remarkably united on how we’re supposed to express gratitude. One, appreciate the good things we have with deep awareness. Two, express that appreciation through kind words and kind deeds. Which is not to say that we meekly tolerate predators—our devi-devta are armed, remember, and always fighting demons, as we are meant to.
Regarding kindness, many years ago, a young researcher reportedly showed up in Kanchipuram with this question: What is life really about? He asked the Kanchi seer, Sri Chandrasekharendra Sarasvati, before a large gathering of the sage’s devotees. They wondered how their guru would reply, since there were many sources on the subject—the Vedas, Upanishads, Puranas, the two great epics, innumerable stotras, bhakti verses, philosophical views and bhashya or commentaries by great acharyas in the past.
The sage asked the devotees for their opinion. They politely declined to answer. They were delighted that the visitor had voiced their own deep doubts and existential queries so crisply, and felt an overwhelming interest in the answer.
The sage asked one of his helpers to fetch the Srimad Bhagavatam or Bhagavata Purana, revered as Mahavishnu’s biography. The sage’s choice flummoxed his devotees. It was an enormous book of 16,000-18,000 verses, depending on the edition. Its tenth section, about Sri Krishna, with nearly 4,000 verses, was the best-known and most-studied. When the book arrived, the sage told his helper to turn to the seventh skandam (section), sixth adhyay (chapter), shloka (verse) 24. He asked that the verse be read aloud and that the learned in the audience translate it for all to hear.
This verse was said in the Bhagavatam by the young asura or titan prince Prahlad to his schoolmates: “Tasmat sarvesu bhutesu dayam kuruta sauhrdam bhavam asuram unmucya yaya tusyaty adhoksajah”, meaning, “Therefore, my dear young asura friends, act in such a way that Almighty God, who is immeasurably beyond any form we know, will be satisfied. Give up the demonic side of your nature and behave to all without enmity or otherness. Be kind and merciful to other living beings and become their well-wishers by showing them, through your deeds, that God is love.”
In the deep silence that followed, the sage said, “The courtesy, compassion and love that we show others in God’s creation reach God. The Upanishads give it the watchword ‘Datta’. Give, be nice. This love is most pleasing to God. So, the purpose of human lives is to show loving-kindness to all.”
The story goes that the young researcher blinked back his tears, satisfied by the answer, and that very few eyes remained dry.
Renuka Narayanan | FAITHLINE | Senior journalist
(Views are personal)
(shebaba09@gmail.com)