An Account of a Romantic Drive

Every moment holds romance; whether one is alive to it or not is the question. This morning I lived through yet another definition and experience of romance.

Living in and for this moment has been high up there in the last few days - one of those up phases of life which one tries best to keep being in!  Waking at 4:30 a.m. (before the alarm), having a great cup of coffee with one’s mother and daughter for company, and getting a convenient share cab to go from Tiruvanmiyur to Pondy when its not yet dawn, all keep up with the spirit. I get into the front seat of the cab, settle the daughter on my lap and we take off.

Initially I fuss around the little one knowing that she will fall asleep soon enough, moving one of her legs so that it doesn’t disturb the gears, tucking my dupatta tight over her ears, responding with a reassuring murmur to her faint protest, and shifting her weight a little bit to get both of us comfortable for the drive. I was totally absorbed in this when one of the men from the back seat called out that I roll up the windows since it would get chilly for her, to which suggestion I smiled and replied that she wouldn’t sleep at all if the windows were closed and AC on.

The man’s voice was the first sound that I heard after I got into the car. Now other sounds registered gradually. The whoosh of the wind, the sound of the car, 80s and 90s Tamil cinema music (most public transport and travels drivers on this route seem to prefer this, I wonder why now; Valaiosai… vaan megham…), the rising and falling drone of the two men conversing in the back seat dwindling very slowly, occasional drowsy voices of either of the two children with them, the whiz of vehicles going in the opposite direction, the rare blast of a horn that starts faint, builds to a scream and then fades or cuts off abruptly – all in the flash of a second on such roads (the ECR)… I became aware of all of them and yet it was not a cacophony! It may be a bit much to call it orchestra, however let me be content saying that they were all in harmony.

I then felt my daughter’s weight on me – she had been growing heavy with sleep.  At the moment that I felt her weight, I felt everything else that I could feel on my skin and physical sensations as well as taste and smell, all in a flash. The pressure of my left ankle over the other where they were crossed, the near stillness of my breath, the car seat under me and on my back, her warmth seeping through her clothes to my right palm which was on her back, the friction and scratching sensation in the crook of my left elbow which was touching something coarse on her (I think there were some threads and self design on her pants), my chilled left ear and cheek since the wind was hitting me on that side, the increasing stress in my knees from keeping them bent in the same position, the faint taste of coffee lingering in my mouth and an increasing feeling of thirst, feet going to sleep, and the smells wafting around - the faintly musty car seat, coconut hair oil, sandalwood (soap, I am now guessing), the smell of morning (there definitely is a smell to morning, sort of tangy), and other smells from outside that we passed from time to time.

 I saw the long straight road ahead beautifully dark first, lightening slowly, and turned to see the sun peeping out on my left. I felt my eyes drinking in the road and sun and everything that it was turning golden. My personal orchestra was keeping up with me as well, effortlessly.

It was a space where every sense was alive to all that was hitting that sense, and yet it was not too much to handle; not one of them pulled that sense away from this space. That is, no one was getting carried away by anything. I realised that something similar was happening in my thoughts and mental sensations as well. For instance, I turned and looked at the driver when his mobile phone rang and he picked it up. All he did was murmur that he is coming back with passengers and that he will talk later. But I picked up on his satisfaction that he had gotten passengers and he would be getting some extra income. I also noticed that he was alert and not sleepy although he had driven the night before as well to drop off people at the airport. We had with us a young and really good driver (he drove smoothly without sudden brakes and jerks and it never felt once like he was speeding, but we were achieving quite a bit of road very quickly). Also because it was early morning before traffic hours, and a Sunday.  

However, noticing these didn’t take me away from that being-alive space.  There were not that many thoughts that occurred, but when a thought did come, it came into that space, and then fell away as we drove on. I simply watched the thought rise and fall.  I was conscious of every sense and sensation, yet not getting lost in or strayed by any one. At some point the thought came that it all felt like I was making love to myself. Don’t ask me what that means really, that is just what I felt or thought. I did not think further about it or analyse.  I was simply, gloriously alive. The two-hour drive was pure romance, and I was aware of a feeling of gratitude and benevolence towards the driver and my co-passengers. 

A continued soliloquy on Living in the Present (I) - Accidents

The thought and phenomenon of living in the here and now is something that I have had a love-hate relationship with for a very long time now. Love, in moments like this when the awareness and practice of here and now is strong, and hate, when it pops up as a reminder after I had forgotten to live in the present for some length of time. Hate perhaps is an extreme word. Intense conflict and struggle, maybe. Consequently, I tend to draw threads from every conversation and situation to the idea of living in this moment. In my mind of course, for the most part. This series of posts about living in the present will share some of these rambling thoughts and insights.

I realised some time back that I am a menace to myself and the rider when I travel pillion on a two-wheeler. Perhaps because of the number of road accidents that I have directly and indirectly been affected by, I am always anticipating an accident and sitting on edge, literally and figuratively. This means that every time we hit a ditch, or I spot a speeding vehicle coming in the opposite direction, which is every other second, I dig into the shoulders of the person in front of me. I let out involuntary yelps at every sudden twist, turn, brake, loud honk, bike whizzing by too close for my comfort, narrow path that we may have to squeeze through, child or pup darting out, and anything else that deviates from a completely smooth, uneventful and boring ride. The best reaction (or worst, depending on how one looks at it) is the sharp and swift intake of breath that happens when it even remotely looks like we are going to hit another vehicle. There are a couple of things to be considered here. One, the fact that it looks like we may hit another vehicle is entirely subjective. Can a fact be subjective? Subjective fact. It sounds like an oxymoron. The other point is that the swift intake of breath just happens; it is entirely involuntary according to me. However, a long time front rider and sufferer begs to differ. How can a reaction just happen when it packs a wallop of accusation, indignation, fear and the worst kind of predictions all rolled into one?  And so an average ride may go yelp, dig, yelp, dig, hiss of breath, dig, yelp, mutter, complain, dig, yelp, hiss, dig…. And I of course always defended myself. I saw no problem in this and always blamed the road, road rage and irresponsible driving.

In one of my stronger and lucid moments, it struck me that I am making a cake of myself. What does it mean to be traveling sitting on edge like I do? So every time I yelp or dig, I am actually living in the past experience of an accident that I have been through or have seen. Every time I hiss or mutter, I am living in the future with a few broken ribs perhaps or worse. Which means that every moment on that ride is a moment in vain, in death actually. I am either living in the past or the future, and not in the here and now. What an irony. An irony because this actually leaves me completely vulnerable even if an accident were to happen at that moment because my mind is not present in it. What a whammy!

The sad truth is that the sum total of our experiences and habits are so strong that such an insight does not mean immediate transformation. It could mean that for some of course, but not for this struggling soul. However, the yelps have reduced considerably, the digs and mutters have been completely eschewed from the bike rides and every hiss of breath is mentally converted to a mantra. There is hope! 

Learning from Children - Free to Love

Initially this post was to be titled 'Learning from / with children'. Then I realised that there are some things that we don’t learn with them, we necessarily learn from children, by simply watching them be, and engage with the world.

As adults many of us are often embarrassed by explicit announcements or gestures of love. And yes, that's a thoughtful statement; I am not saying it casually. The embarrassment would of course be at different levels of intensity, felt and manifested differently with different people in different situations. For instance, some of us may feel comfortable showing love to our partner, but not so with relatives. Some of us feel awkward if the expression goes beyond a cursory side-of-the-body hug. In fact, I find that many of us feel strange staying and feeling a hug completely.

The corollary to this is acknowledging love, a move of love.  We fare worse in this aspect. While I am quick to list all the wrong actions of the other, prompt with all the hurts inflicted on me by A or B, I am much slower to recognise an expression of love by the same A or B. Love is expressed in many ways, the beginning of which is physical expression like a loving look or hug. We miss most of the subtler actions of love, of the people around us. For instance, I recall now how my grandmother always served food with so much love. That is, she was very aware of how each one of us liked to eat, what went in first, what vegetables I like with certain other items on the menu, which were the side dishes preferred by my sister and on and on like this. And she served us according to our tastes, even though as children we were taught to eat everything put on the plate without a fuss. She did this for everyone but never once asked anyone about their preferences or tastes. She just observed everyone and served them. But for all this, there was no outward show of love. In my early teens then, I missed this for her outward irritability and the fact that we seemed to have nothing in common. I recollected and realised much much later how love worked through her.

I am remembering her again now, with some regret (because I never did show much warmth to her when she was alive), as I watch my daughter. There is nothing hidden in her love or its expression. And I am amazed again and again at the wisdom and simplicity she demonstrates even in her acknowledgement of it. I figure it is not so strange that the first time I thought of my grandmother and of our relationship in some depth, was when I was babysitting a 4-year old during my college days. Parmeet taught me a lot about myself, about conflicts and relationships and so much more, in the 3 years that I was with him, a few hours every day of the week.

Now it is Kaivalya, my daughter who is teaching me how effortlessly I can understand and acknowledge love . She so quickly drops her irritation or anger with something, if I just give her a beseeching look and ask for a "tight-a huggy". It is almost ruthless how she forgets the past second's hostility in this moment's love. And she goes on to give a tight hug and a bonus kiss with her slate clean. No baggage there. How do children do that? For me the joy is in how she acknowledges me. All I have to do is give her a loving look (sometimes I am not aware of it myself). If she happens to catch my look, she smiles immediately and says "I-o-dee" (which means 'I love you' in her language).  I was feeding her once and a little bit of the porridge oozed out onto the side of her mouth. Her tongue couldn’t reach it. I had been busy with taking the next spoonful, arranging her bib or something like that, that she had been at it for a while when at last I noticed her trying to reach it. I said that I'm so sorry I didn’t see, and wiped it clean. She gave a grin of relief and then insisted that she give me a hug and "i-o-dee" before we proceed with the more mundane process of eating.  How does she know when I am upset or hurt about something? She is not even two years yet.  She then does things which are very clearly aimed at bringing me out of my blues. Which of course they do. She is so forgiving about the mistakes I make in my engagement with her, she puts me to shame about all the resentments I carry. These resentments are a part of the huge wall I have built around myself that stops me from an open expression of love. She clearly has no inhibitions in showing love, in casual and deep ways. One morning I was lazy and didn’t respond to her mindfully. She indicated to me in no uncertain terms that I was behaving shabbily and she would rather be with someone who would no doubt be decent with her: "amma vendaam, appa venum" (don’t want mom, want dad). Wasn’t I quick in mending my ways! However she was not waiting to see me mend my ways. She had moved on to something that had her completely enthralled and she turned to me demanding that I see it. I can just go on describing numerous such ways in which she expresses and acknowledges love. But what sort of a memory is this, that forgets emotional gymnastics and carries no such luggage, but soaks and absorbs so much learning? How is it programmed to remember in minute detail , many things about the world and itself and yet forget some other particular aspects? What freedom. Children are so free to love, so wholly, because of the way their memory functions.

We are also meant to love in such freedom, aren't we? We also undoubtedly loved this way when we were children. We collect so much grime along the way and fail to see clearly. I am constantly learning how she does it. Funnily enough, I keep recollecting practices and suggestions that the greatest masters have prescribed for such a love when I see my daughter's behaviour (in general, children). No jokes! Pratipaksha Bhavana is something that the Yoga Sutra and the Bhagavad Gita prescribe - replacing one thought with an opposite or another thought / action / behaviour. The descriptions are typically about cultivating and understanding opposite perspectives, countering destructive thoughts with thoughts of the opposite nature, becoming the other etc. I see her doing just this much of the time. If I give a stern look, she counters it with a wicked smile. If she just has to have a certain type of food that she doesn’t like, with every mouthful she utters a protesting cry, and then she immediately changes it by finding something else interesting to look at, or take refuge in holding me or talking to me. And so, myriad ways. Another important sutra talks of cultivating maitri (congeniality, friendliness), karuna (empathy, helpfulness), mudita (cheerfulness) and upeksha (imperturbability - towards failures, people who cant be changed and so on).  I simply watch her flabbergasted, while she practices one or more of these traits in different contexts and situations.

An all important principle underlying all others I feel is how children are able to live in the here and now. This is what enables them to love with such abandon and freedom. Because of being forever in this moment, they walk light. Nothing burdens them. They have no walls around them - of assumptions and conditionings and stereotypes and other barriers. They are free to love. They are free.

Reverence, the National Anthem and Children

Reverence is a feeling of deep respect or admiration. What happens when we revere? The way we look at the object of reverence is very different from the way we look at something not revered (so much?).  We take a moment or moments longer to pause, look and experience pleasure maybe. We do not pass judgments so easily. We are quick to discover positive aspects rather than wear the critical hat right away. Acceptance and a sense of oneness are already in place. What happens is that we buy time for 'right understanding'.

The Rev. Samdhong Rinpoche once said in an interactive session that even to prove that something (he was talking of Gandhi) is not relevant, you have to understand deeply. And that even for rejection there must be a right understanding; that is one's freedom and responsibility.

How can we embark on such a path of understanding if we do not have reverence? A reverence  that is not necessarily directed at an object. The reverence which is an emotion and attitude underlying all thought and action. If one has an inherent quality of reverence, then acceptance and love lay the road for a Buddhist understanding to begin its journey.  This kind of right understanding is not an object or a solid conclusion, opaque to the changes all around. It is a fluid and changing journey, a process. Haste, personal agendas, rigid stands and personalities dissolve by the very nature of this journey. 

We are taught not to have such reverence today. Everything around us directs us either to irreverence or a lower form of reverence at the level of submission to power and authority. We were at a cinema theatre the other day and amongst the advertisements before the movie, the screen gave the audience a sudden instruction: "Please stand up for the National Anthem." A short movie clip followed with different scenes of India, not very different from Mile Sur Mera Tumhara or Vande Mataram. The background music was of course the National Anthem. If I recall right, it was a Bharat Bala production. All of us (I think) stood. I will bypass all the discussions that can ensue around the theme of national anthem and patriotism, and only look at the Anthem as a symbol of reverence. As a society we are moving away from a culture of reverence and continue to do so inexorably. I wonder how many of us would have stood if not for that piece of instruction. Standing up is a gesture of reverence and of course there are many among us who may roll our eyes, or feel "So what? Respect is in the mind, or heart or the pit of the stomach or wherever." The irony is that more and more people who are 'outsiders' to this culture, seem to think highly of this ability to be one with people and situations and phenomena, and begin from that platform of acceptance. The irony goes further - our education and conditioning today is to remove all trace of such inherent reverence, and then relearn it from some American or European Guru twisted and tweaked beyond recognition and even original meaning, and then coated with new jargon. (No offense to American and European individuals, I only state this as a process).

Children are taught to question everything to death and scientify whatever remains. We are negating all symbols of reverence on this battlefield. Such symbols taught us as children to revere first, make a habit of it and imbibe it as a culture, before we gradually learnt its value and meaning. The take off of course is that as children many aspects of culture including social behaviour and compassion, physical discipline and so on are learned this way.  Such aspects, like reverence, cannot be imbibed by talking and discussing about them.  Children in a certain phase can only learn by doing. How can we do reverence? This is of course only if we decide that reverence is a part of 'our' culture, whoever the 'us' may be. These symbols helped us in learning and teaching reverence by doing it first, and discussing it later, after the experience(s). Much later.

I feel it deep in my gut every time I hear the National Anthem, and it triggers in me thoughts and visuals of all that is India for me, its beauty and grandeur, and all its contradictions and conflicts, its people and mountains and children and oceans, and emotions of pleasure or anger or sadness or joy depending on the current issues that may already be running in my mind. Whatever it may be, my reverence does not allow my response to stop at the shallow surface, it has to be intense, it has to go deeper, there is no other way. And every time I respond in this manner, I learn to revere more and I learn to respond reverently to other things as well. I hope and pray that in time I learn to value everything as symbols of reverence. And I pray that today's children learn to revere,  learn that they have time to stop, and experience this fascinating journey.