Friday, July 28, 2006

Tears

The same friend I mentioned in the previous post, recently asked me a question that fired another chain of thought. This time, the words were spoken during a prolonged and relaxed conversation that housed many interesting topics. He asked me, "...why don't men cry?"

"Hah!" exclaimed the psychologist within me, as he drew upon psychoanalysis, social learning theory, reinforcement theory and a fair amount of self-wrought notions, to gush out some reply, which hopefully answered the above question. The dreamy thinker in me, however, was already thinking about the contents of this post! This is what he had to say...

I've always struggled to discover why we deny a man his tears...it is, in my opinion, one of the most irresponsible and unfair lessons that a boy is taught by just about every agent that contributes to his development (family, friends, 'education'...the works!). Today, if a male celebrity admits that he is emotional, it is enough to make some desperate reporter a quick buck, once he or she has written a poorly exaggerated account of it. The issue is considered interesting enough for less-than-competent tabloids and magazines to actually ask them to recount the last time they cried! In short, tears in a man's eyes, unless provoked by natural or unnatural calamities (and mind, some don't even consider these as sufficient criteria), are unusual and must not go unnoticed...

Why is this so? Why should a man's tears be regarded as so uncharacteristic? Why does something catastrophic need to occur before a man cries? What about tears of happiness...don't men deserve them? For heaven's sake, I've actually known men who can count the number of times they've shed a tear or two in the last decade(s)!

"Boys don't cry!", "Stop crying like a little girl", "Crybaby!" ,"Sissy!"...the list just goes on an on and you can take your pick from the collection of jibes used to teach a little boy that he does not have a right to express his sadness through tears. So, he learns instead, to bottle-up his pain, hiding most of his experiences of unhappiness in the secret confines of his being...a lonely place where the tears may be shed, but there is nobody to comfort the one who sheds them. Soon, the aspect of bottling up negative emotions transfers to the expression of emotion in general (regardless of valence). Now, you get the typical man who, at a social gathering, cannot speak on anything beyond work, politics, the stock market and other dry topics. He is the person who cannot understand why his wife wants them to communicate some more...having never realised that communication happens at more than one level...and that tension release cannot be achieved permanently if the golf-course or a punching bag is the only listener you have!

While I was in college, one of my favourite teachers read out a passage from a book which contained a therapist's accounts of sessions with his clients. I will never forget the eye-opening account of how a suave, controlled and intellectual male client beat a pillow to shreds with a baseball bat when the therapist asked him to think that the pillow represented a person who had hurt him very much (and asked him to express how he felt about her). The narrative was just about one person, but the scary thing is that there are millions more like him...people in whom a mistrust of their own feelings has been indoctrinated from their earliest days. It is part of a constellation of injustices and wrongdoings that leads to the development of both, the repressed (and inexpressive) man as well as the pathological and criminal one.

Have you ever paid attention to the feeling of lightness that remains after you've cried? You don't feel like a million dollars, that's certain, but at least you don't feel like a tonne of bricks is parked on your chest! They don't say "get it off your chest" for nothing, you know!

The way I see it, crying helps you get over a significant part of the pain after which you can process things a little more rationally...it's normal, it's adaptive and it's essential. I'm not suggesting that we cry for each and everything that goes wrong in our lives...things don't happen that way. What I'm suggesting is that men give themselves the space to cry when they feel wounded emotionally, without having to feel guilty or emasculated as a result! As a man, I should be able to bawl my lungs out, if it'll help me process my unhappiness...and not feel judged for it. Our tears have meaning. They deserve to be released, even if there is nobody else to witness or value them.

Think about it...

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

It's All Good!

A couple of days ago, I was travelling in a public bus along with a friend, when something unpleasant happened. I won't go into the details of that, but I will share with you the fact that my friend was disapproving with my reactions to the events, which mainly centred around trusting the intentions of a complete stranger. According to him, I was being quite childish because I preferred to believe that an unknown person could be trusted so easily. I respect my friend a lot and I do know that he had my best interests at heart when he candidly expressed his disgruntlement with my belief in the basic goodness of all people. In fact, it was his remark - "there is very little good left in the world" - which got me thinking and started me off on this post!

Call me an optimistic fool if you will, but I believe that Carl Rogers got it right when he spoke about the inherent good that lies in all men and women. I know the world is full of dangers for the unwary and the gullible (and I would like to think that I am neither) but nevertheless, I see too many instances of positivity around me to cast aside my belief completely. Yes, I've been cheated before, even robbed, back-stabbed etc. but I've also found affection in the unlikeliest places, been helped by complete strangers, bonded with people radically unlike myself...I take all that and more as enough evidence to believe that the world isn't as formidable a place as we make it seem.

Today is the first anniversary of "Terrible Tuesday" (26th July 2005). Last year on this very day, the city of Mumbai was hit by the most torrential rains it has ever witnessed. Drains overflowed, roads got flooded, landslides happened, double-decker buses gradually vanished from sight as water inexorably choked the city. Many lives were lost, children were orphaned and entire livelihoods destroyed in the brief span of a day. I was there in the thick of that chaos, stranded in a public bus and watching in utter confusion as the water level crept up into my bus so that I couldn't see my feet anymore. Those who know me well, would probably smile (however briefly) when they read this because they know how much I detest getting my feet dirty; it would be quite easy for them to imagine my profound agitation at getting my feet dirtied by the muckiest water imaginable and that too in a public bus, where that water should never have been able to reach in the first place!

The three and a half hour walk home was a nightmare, to say the least. The rain pelted one in the face incessantly, filthy water swirled about at chest high or knee high levels (dead rats, garbage and goodness knows what else bobbed about in it, so believe me... it was FILTHY!), umbrellas broke and were torn out of their owners' hands by a merciless wind...and that's not even half of the trauma...Women and children were crying and the heftiest man's teeth chattered as he waded through the water...

It was at this time, with dismay and agony screaming madly in my ears, that I witnessed the true power of the human spirit. Yes, there were those that despaired of their condition and all but gave up their efforts to reach safety...but for each one like that, there were two others who rallied around and supported him. The people of the localities through which I passed, were all out on the streets, wading through the water and helping the hapless pedestrians to steer clear of the potholes and manholes. They cordoned off safer paths with rope and guided us into them; owners of small restaurants emptied their stocks of food without a thought, just to feed the miserable folk who stumbled past their establishments; families fortunate enough to have their property spared were out in small rescue teams, dispensing medicines, food etc.

When I think of all this, I simply cannot cast aside my faith in people. Each one of us has a spark of the divine within...it's just there! Sometimes horrible things happen to people (we'll keep that for another discussion!), which can mask the inherent divinity that they have...so much so that they themselves become entirely ignorant of it. However, shutting your eyes doesn't end the sunshine and ignoring your basic goodness doesn't mean it's not there! Sometimes we need to be shaken up a little to realise what we're capable of...at other times just a small nudge is enough. Moreover, the smallest things are always there to remind you of how much goodness there is in the world...take for example my friend, mentioned in the first paragraph; although I was in no mood to contest his stance on the issue, from the corner of my eye I saw him making funny faces at the baby a lady was holding in the seat in front of our own. This apparently gruff fellow was making the baby smile effortlessly, much to the delight of her parents...and it looked wonderful. Which reminds me...have you ever noticed that nobody inspires trust more than a baby? If you ever take an infant into your arms, it places itself in your care so completely, that you just cannot help want to look after it...there is nothing that you wouldn't do in order to maintain the unconditional faith that the precious little being vests in you! :)

The good in man is everywhere, one has just got to be slightly observant. I see it everyday in some form or the other. What about you?

Friday, July 14, 2006

Of Little Birds and New Beginnings

At about 6:45 am each day, the unmistakable twitter of sparrows falls on my ears, adding it's presence to my riyaaz. There's nothing like birdsong to start your day with, and sparrows have always been favourites with me. Have you ever taken the time to observe a sparrow carefully? Many people find them drab, but that's usually because their plumage is often dimmed by urban air pollution. In truth, they have a lovely pattern of several shades of brown, some flecks of black and a generous sprinkling of white feathers. Besides, their chubby little forms and quick, high-pitched chirps are by far their most endearing qualities. They're at my balcony every morning, flitting between my hanging plants and chirping non-stop. Even as I continue with riyaaz, I have no choice but to look at their merriment and admire how full of energy they are (I'm presently debating whether I should start feeding them breadcrumbs, but I have a horror of pigeons and I would hate to see those eternally hungry and perpetually defecating creatures replace my sparrows, who don't make a mess of my balcony in the slightest!).

By the way, this is my fiftieth post on LifeStrings and it being 8:25 am, this is also probably the earliest I have ever written one!

It makes me so happy to note the synchronicity between the serial number of this post and the new path my life has taken; namely, my entry into the world of work. Having just attained the qualification of an Applied Psychologist, I've been hired by a good software firm to work in an area that requires and also builds on my skills as a psychologist. The work is challenging, the ongoing training is intensive (make that a capital 'i'), my batch-mates are good fun, the work environment is "WOW!" and I don't have to wear formal clothes to office! In short, the Universe has given me just about everything that I could have wanted to start my career with. :)

While I'm giving thanks to the cosmos (and believe me, I'm always dishing out these silent thanks!), I also want to tell you how wonderful the experience of blogging has been for me. What started as an experimental venture at my uncle's suggestion, has now become something that I cannot do without. LifeStrings gave me the opportunity to renew the pleasure that I get from writing, something that I had all but lost in the last couple of years. Today, I'm always on the lookout for posting something new here...and that makes me introspect and observe even more than I used to, which is simply wonderful considering how much there is to learn from even life's smallest experiences. So, I thank you for reading this post and any others you might have read, I thank all the readers who sent me generous comments (and/or took the trouble to call or message me in order to express their appreciation) and I look forward, most earnestly to a lifetime's worth of blogging!

God Bless!

Friday, July 07, 2006

A Handshake Between Souls

I love smiling...so much so, that there are some people who think I take it to extremes! Not that I let their remarks bother me...as long as I'm reasonably certain that I don't have the remnants of my last meal on my teeth, there is precious little that can stop me from grinning.

I discovered the magic of the human smile in a fantastic story by Antoine de Saint Exupery in the first volume of "Chicken Soup for the Soul". If you haven't read it, I recommend that you do so at the soonest possible; it is truly a life-changing narrative, despite the brevity of its content. Ever since I read it, it became a lot easier to smile...and to mean it. The smile that I'm talking about is not the sarcastic curl of the lip, the self-important smirk or the forced grimaces that we have to put on when forced to attend social gatherings that we had to be dragged to, kicking and screaming. What I'm talking about is the genuine phenomenon, seen most profusely in babies' faces, typically when a loved caregiver comes into contact with them. That, without question, is the truest form of a smile...the instantaneous point of contact between two spirits and there is nothing else quite like it. Have you ever paid attention to the wave of affection that flows into you when a child's face lights up at the sight of your face? If you have, you will know when I say that it is simply overwhelming! When was the last time you experienced that with another person, regardless of his/her age?

To put it simply...I smile a LOT! At friends, at family, at parents pushing their toddlers around the supermarket in the shopping carts, at the elderly people I encounter in a park...u name the person and I've flashed my (reasonably white) teeth at them!

Which reminds me, one of the things I've come to cherish is a quaint relationship that revolves only around a smile...

There is an apartment block not too far from mine, in the residential complex in which I live. One of the short-cuts I take to reach the main road, takes me to the gate of this apartment block, where I must pass the security post. It is at this point, which I cross in about 5 seconds, that I meet the old watchman of who mans the post. I've passed by him countless times over the last few years and I still don't know his name (if he knows mine you could knock me over with a feather!). I've never spoken a single word to him and he has never uttered a sound in my presence either. Yet, somehow, if I don't see him when I pass through those gates, I get the feeling that something is missing...an odd sense of incompleteness...

I don't remember when it first started, but each time we see each other, we just smile...and he's got one of the most peaceful and affectionate smiles you could imagine. It stretches from ear to ear and reaches his eyes instantly... and I cannot help but reciprocate it, in kind! This grey-haired fellow in his black watchman's uniform, trimmed with red, has the uncanny ability to add a touch of magic to my life in the brief span of time in which I walk past him. It just makes me feel special, somehow and instantly takes away the feeling of existential isolation that occurs when one is away from the company of kith and kin or not-so-far-away from the 'madding crowd'.

So, the next time you smile, try smiling at someone you don't know at all (if nothing else, do it humour me!)... and do it like it's going out of fashion in the next minute...believe me, you'll be pleasantly surprised when a complete stranger returns it so fully that you wonder if you've met before!

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

While Watching the Rain...

From the shelter of my home I allow myself the luxury of watching the dark rain-bearers charge across the skies, hurling their exquisite bounties at the earth. I watch, as their invisible ally, the wind, shakes the trees and I listen to its insistent jubilation whistling through a small gap in one of my windows.

Two ladies pass below my window, their shared umbrella pummelled within an inch of destruction by the relentless gale and their dresses soaked by the drops carried on it. Their feet make small splashes in the watery film that flows over the stone tiles of the building compound...the ground is alive with the ceaseless impact a million raindrops, each of which hurtles joyously towards the earth knowing that in a fraction of a moment, it will lose its form forever...

Glancing at a nearby building, I spy an orderly line of pigeons, huddling under the roof's ornamental protrusion (and smile contentedly, knowing that their endless defecation will not soil my balconies for several days to come!). On a hunch I leave my window to examine our apartment's terrace...intuition serves me well, as I find a prized Lily plant overturned by the careless gusts that swirl all around our apartment complex. The clusters of potted plants and ornamental rocks on my terrace glisten with the regular cleansing they receive minute upon minute... a short while later, I re-enter the house, my clothes considerably dampened by the brief act of bringing the plant into a sheltered corner.

It is late afternoon but the dense cloud-canopy does keeps the sun out of sight; it grows dark outside and the distant roll of thunder takes the form of a lullaby. The house grows cooler and the body wants nothing more than to give itself over to the conspiratorial coaxing of the monsoons...Who am I to challenge the strength of a Season? Before I known it, the cosy folds of my quilt are up to my chin and my eyes grow heavy under nature's enchantment...a welcome, comforting darkness comes before me...and my spirit wanders...