If I Find You My Friend, I'd Tell You This

The striped cat which was the sole occupant of my Quarters before I moved in will return to its habit of tip toeing to my legs as I sit on the porch in the winter mornings. It would arrive and lie down. Maybe roll over. Then thoroughly soak the sun into its gorgeous fur. Then it would stand up, soundlessly arch its back and stretch its leg and go away as quietly as it came. And all through the season’s mornings it will religiously repeat the act. I never miss its morning ritual because observing its peaceful movements reinforces my love for the mundane. Whenever I look at the creature, I want to be content with my life. Please do not think that I'm not alive to the sea of differences between the life of a cat and that of mine. But the basics don't differ that much. I mean it has to hunt for food and with increased pest control measures a urban cat has to face a far greater struggle for filling its belly than it once used to. It has to find a shelter. That isn't cake walk either. I've seen it being shunned by many. It even goes through its share of sickness and loneliness. Therefore I am led to think that in a way, within so much trouble, its peaceful movements don it with a monk like appearance. That word in turn reminds me of a friend who, vexed by a certain disappointment, fumed that he wants to give up everything and proceed to some faraway place, a sort of a refuge from worldly troubles and live like a monk. I asked him what good it would do.

“It would save me from all the stress and unhappiness' he'd answered immediately. I had no point to make to him at that time. Not because I was not in agreement with him but because there was no way I could know if he was wrong or right. When I recall that conversation I kind of feel compelled to reach out to him and tell him that I may have finally understood what it takes to be a monk. And it may not necessarily involve running away. 

As going through a bit of life has taught me, a real monk would perhaps be someone who would remain open to the idea of pain and pleasure alike. Not shy away from either. Indulge. Taste a bit of things that men are supposed to know in their lifetimes. Bond with an open heart, enjoy the flavour of those ties and let go when they insist to drift, make peace with heartbreaks that may occur because of them. Savour the uplifting sensation of victories as much as absorb the lessons mistakes teach. Nurture in our heart some compassion for the world and most importantly for ourselves.  Accept that it's alright to not be as provided for as a very prosperous friend or an affluent neighbour. Never underestimate the strength of hope. In short, live without malice. A true monk would be a man right in the heart of the world, sailing on its mysterious waters, discovering and learning and exploring and not someone who's cut off from all those things.

I doubt that if I say this to you my friend, the unremitting cynic that you used to be, you may instantly critique 'What about happiness? Aren’t we doomed to never stop looking for it in vain?’ Then I would say to you that happiness is a mirage. It may exist everywhere for some and nowhere for others. Most people think they are looking for happiness when all they really need to find is contentment. The dangers of searching for happiness also lies in the tragedy that it rarely comes when one is looking for it. As Ruskin Bond says ‘It is as elusive as butterfly and we may never pursue it. If we stay very still it may come and settle on our hand. But only briefly...' 

Old friend, I'm not sure if you actually hid yourself from the world to become a monk. And if you did, whether that brought you what you wanted. But if you’ve stayed back, I urge you to spend a couple of mornings with me at my place. Put your leg right by my side so that you can connect with the cat. And only then I can begin to reason with you, if need still be, that it takes something else altogether to not be sad than losing ourselves on a path away to the high mountains. That the clues are all here, right in the very places we live, walk and sleep in. That things that you’re worried about, things like disappointment and stress would always be. That the secret to life is living it regardless. Looking for its light and its shadow under the sky of its struggles. It always has been man's destiny.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Forgiveness

Life, even in all its simplicity is a song that we take years to absorb fully. Its predicaments are rarely answered in a straight yes or no nor are its colors ever visible as mere black and white. Its shades are grayer than they look on the surface and only the ones it chooses to test have the good or bad fortune to discover their knowledge. In the context of recalling life's many small and big struggles I recall how someone once said somewhere that many things start anew with forgiveness. But starting life anew is not the real reason why I choose to talk to you about forgiveness today. Something that we won't be talking about for the first time. Believe me, there are reasons which make me come back to the subject. This time the reason is a sincere hope of the truth, hope of honoring it and respecting it notwithstanding the distractions and difficulties involved.

It is hard to forgive when we think and proclaim that forgiving is not our thing. It becomes even harder to find that forgiveness for persons and things and memories with whom we connect deeply and the same person becomes the reason of too much pain. My childhood friend nurtured strong resentment for someone who she thought had betrayed her. She sort of disdainfully declared that forgiving isn’t quite her thing. She is my friend and we understand each other on many levels and I even know where she is coming from here. But being her friend, I also have a duty to see that she doesn’t commit herself to things unfair. Not for a moment do I wish to lecture her about the right and wrong of things. Who am I after all. Neither have I suffered the pain that she claims to have suffered nor are my expectations shattered here. But what I must remind her and everyone similarly placed is that life’s tragedies are not always someone’s doing. Life sucks and it does regardless of us having the worst or the best people around. And we simply cannot fill the unanswered questions in life, no matter how hurtful they are, with the paint of someone’s perceived guilt. 

When we choose to walk the path of love we expose ourselves to blissful and agonizing possibilities alike. And it isn’t always the other person’s fault that things don’t work out. This sort of leads to a perceptional error of what truly is the implication of any relationship. It might be the same for every stakeholder yet one or only a few of them might consider themselves on a testing tide. This, in my opinion, is many times the foundation of so many misjudgments. And it is often after we misjudge that we make the most terrible choice of not forgiving someone.

What is forgiveness after all? Underneath the ornamental adages and solemn verses often employed to explain its meaning, forgiveness is simply the act of being able to understand. Just ask yourself if you lack this ability or do you possess it. I want you to ask this question because what really concerns me is the alarmingly large number of times there is a mistaken discernment of truth under which these decisions to forgive or not forgive are taken.

Anyone who knows the colossal power of circumstances knows what it can have you do. It can break through the most foolproof barrier of logic and rationales. So even if I may, on a rigid interpretation of things, hold him accountable, I'd still be very careful as to what punishment I sentence him to. Sometimes our acts may hurt despite that hurt never being our real intention. We can't afford to forget the difference. That difference may at times be hazy but it makes all the difference between what is fair and what is outright injustice.

But my friend’s was a heart pining in love and loss. Sometimes for a pining heart, drops of joy are squeezed away and that can trick the mind and turn the most ostensible truth into a lie. I cannot ignore how the man, my friend’s perceived tormentor is equally a victim of the circumstances. But that's a truth which is way beyond my friend's reach. Such truths are never meant to reveal themselves and we spend our lives thinking that what we have been allowed to see is the whole thing.

It is therefore sometimes a common notion that we are alright in not forgiving, thinking that we have enough reasons to choose how we choose. But are we careful enough to judge the basis of that choice? To weigh it in the scales of right and wrong? In simple words, when we decide not to forgive someone do we ask ourselves whether we know how even a short walk in his shoes feels like. What if he is blameless? Maybe not to an unconcerned onlooker but to one who is ready to understand the ‘why’ of things. Truth is, forgiveness is not as much the issue here as is the tragic perception of what’s faulty in someone’s acts. To that misconception there is the most unspeakable consequence.

We need to remember that when we decide to declare someone guilty and unworthy of forgiveness we must be absolutely certain that he deserves it. We must make sure that there is nothing to mitigate his culpability. That there is nothing hidden in the dark which we never saw, which we never could have seen, things that make an exception. The next time you decide to pull up your wits and declare that ‘I can’t forgive’ think again. There might just be a thorn in the shoe that person wears, one that makes him bleed all the same, the blood whose marks you won’t ever see.