Of course he played video games. Don’t they all?

I have been observing my mind looking into every nook and cranny hoping to find a reason, a trigger or an explanation despite innately knowing that he suffered from an illness. Mostly it indulges in regret – I should have known better; I should have spent more time with him; I should have spoken less and given him more opportunity to share; I should have been more patient and such like. Other times it looks for clues in his behavior. The problem with that is the indistinct line between normal and not-so-normal. The latest one is video games.

He liked playing them although not for great lengths of time. Sometimes he would make me sit with him and watch him play. I did not enjoy that at all and often discouraged him as I thought they were too violent and completely senseless. For him it was just entertainment. He rationed the amount of time he spent on it so I did not worry too much.

After spending quite a while looking for one source of concise information on the link between mental illness and video games, this is what I found. Although it is one of the pages of a de-addiction center website, it is informative.

http://www.recoveryranch.com/articles/gaming-addicted-children-at-higher-risk-of-mental-health-issues/

There is a lot of conflicting material available on the subject depending on the source of publication. A co-relation between depression and anxiety disorders and Internet overuse exists. However, it may not be a causative one. In some cases it helps patients cope with their illness.

I still struggle to believe that violent video games do not have an impact on children’s psyche, however subtle.

The literal meaning of his name is ‘ocean’. Over the past few weeks I have been mostly choosing to spend time at sleepy little coastal towns and villages, partly to feel close to him (it’s silly I know) and partly for the warm weather. The comfortable proximity of the enormous force that is the ocean and the most vulnerable being, that is the human, completely baffles me. How trusting we are, to submerge ourselves in this huge reservoir of energy and feel completely relaxed.

The 10^th Anniversary of the Tsunami having passed recently, I could not help but think about it at this particular juncture in my life. The energy released in the Tsunami was equal to 23,000 Hiroshima type Atomic Bombs. 18 countries were affected, 230,000 people died, 1.7 million were made homeless and half a million were injured.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/11303114/2004-Boxing-Day-tsunami-facts.html

Up until recently these were just facts to me. Now, they are a measure of the pain, suffering and sheer destruction endured by millions of families in a matter of a few minutes and hours with repercussions on their communities and countries for a long time to come.

It is also a reminder of Mother Nature, changing its mind in a fraction of a second. That is how long it takes for our world to change forever or disappear all together.
Is there a lesson in this for us?
For me, there is one: these days are the ‘good old days’ of the future. All that is, is here and now.

On a very turbulent flight to India a few years ago, I sat next to him absolutely petrified, tightly clutching on to his hands for dear life. He just sat there fully present to my fear and me, telling me it will pass. I recall that particular air journey to be the worst one ever. I must have held on to his hands for at least a couple of hours. He stayed calm. He knew that was just me. He often made jokes about it.

The ‘seat-belt on’ sign was switched on again on the flight this morning as we hit bad weather. My first instinct was to look for his hands but then I decided to sit with my eyes closed and take long deep breaths. I could almost hear him say, “Don’t worry Mamma. It will soon be ok.”

Will it really? Today is exactly 3 months since he passed away. It is still so fresh in my memory, so painful and traumatic, so full of questions and regrets, his suffering and mine, the shock, panic, horror of it. The suddenness of it! How utterly devastated and helpless I felt then and how it is not much different now.

God, please give me the strength to do everything I can to prevent similar pain befalling anyone else. There is a tiny part of me that just wants to give up but please don’t let it win.

Today is ‘Makar Sankranti’ – the winter harvest festival. In Varanasi it is traditionally celebrated by taking a soak in the river Ganges, flying kites, making donations to the poor and cooking a particular type of dish called ‘khichdi’ for lunch. An integral part of the celebrations for a lot of people is a glass of cannabis enriched sweet milk in the morning. In this city cannabis use is legal and shops selling the drinks can be found on the roadside like any other shops selling clothes, shoes or bottled water.

As I walked down the street this morning distributing packets of biscuits to the street kids, I saw this light in their eyes – a sharpness that comes from the will to live, the instinct to survive despite all odds stacked up against them. The contrast just hit me in the face – these kids had nothing yet they wanted to live at any cost. In comparison, young people in other parts of the world have a lot more and yet, so often don’t find life worth living.

How does that come about?

It was a cold and foggy day of fasting, meditating, sitting on a stone floor on a straw mat for four and a half hours performing some intricate and fascinating rituals accompanied by the rhythmic chanting of 5 brahmin priests and repeating my son’s name seemingly a thousand times. All the familiar ingredients were there – fire, water, flowers, milk, honey, sandalwood, vermillion powder, tulsi leaves, mango leaves, coconuts, plenty of clay pots, yogurt, fruits, coins and notes, rice, sugar and ghee.

The aim of the prayers was to direct and empower his soul to transcend into the realm of the Gods – Brahma, Vishnu, Siva and Yama. Once that was accomplished I was glad to hear that he now belongs in the ‘higher beings’ category and I could ask him for whatever I like without shedding any tears. That made me smile my special smile for him.

My body feels like it has aged a hundred years over the past few months yet my mind feels lighter today. My breath is slow and joyful. I can see the beginnings of acceptance. I can now utter his name without breaking down inside. I’ve even noticed that every now and then I have a spell of a few minutes when I don’t think of him.

Put your thoughts to sleep,
let them not cast a shadow
over the moon of your heart.
Drown them in the sea of love.

– Rumi.