perfection

Simply 2020

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The impeccable house we were invited to, shouted out the immense efficiency of our hosts. It was spotless, warm and welcoming. But every few moments something ‘not right’ was vociferously highlighted by our wonderful hosts. The unacceptable way the red silk cushions were left scrunched and squashed, compressed into corners of the plush golden sofas by the rude backsides that had been resting on them. The panic about the imminent possibility of too high a quantity of left-overs. Or the worry over a small chance that there won’t be enough. The width of the cake wedges was either too thin or too thick. The imperfect consistency of the gravy, the flatulence inducing artichoke soup, the highly undesirable heat generated by the log-fire, the terrible noise coming from the television, the spot of annoying stickiness left behind on the jar of honey by an inconsiderate user, the five brown crispy crumbs of bread left shamelessly sticking to the neat rectangular slab of butter on the gold-rimmed china butter dish, the uncouthness of the incorrect placement of the ornate silver by the staff, the inconvenient timing of a phone call with a relative abroad and so on …

Despite the absolute beauty of this home, the air was imbued with the smell of ‘dissatisfaction’, the well-known fundamental state of most human existence.

Do we change overnight or just carry on with the desire for things to be different? Time is a continuum going in waves, up and down and round and round. The ‘start’ and ‘stop’ points are nothing but artificial. The solstices and equinoxes mark time, connecting us with the movements of nature and linking various planetary bodies with one another.

Ordinary events present us with gems. Its up to us to spot the gems, pick them up and drop them in our pockets.

This year, I wish you and me the ability to appreciate and adopt Deep Simplicity. The ability to recognise the futility of being in a constant state of dissatisfaction, to switch our attention from imperfection to gratitude for all that is, to compassion towards ourselves and others, to patience with others and ourselves as we evolve. It takes time.

At 15.

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Cricket in the summers and badminton in the winters. That’s what Saagar chose to play during his school years. He was good at both and wanted to be better.

I often went along to watch him play, even though I didn’t appreciate all the technicalities of either game. One evening we gathered in the Sports club to watch him play. I noticed that every time he missed a shot he hit his right leg hard with the badminton racket gripped in his right hand. That must hurt. I didn’t understand. It distressed me. I spoke with him later. “It’s only a game, darling.”, I said. He kept quiet, neither defending his action, nor arguing with me, pointedly focussing on the piece of ground hit by his obliquely downcast eyes.  In him I saw a boy in pursuit of perfection.

Out of the blue he broke up with his lovely girl-friend of 7 months. That too on Valentine’s Day. His first love. Sweet and innocent. On being asked why, he said, ”It’s boring.” Soon after, late one night I gleened tears in his eyes as he hugged me, pretending not to sob. In him I saw a boy, trying to be a man. Oh! The pains of growing!

After a night out with friends, one weekend I noticed a cluster of 3 pea-sized fresh burn marks on his right forearm. Horrified, I asked what happened. He said it was a dare. A few of his friends were being goofy and challenged him to hold the burnt end of a cigarette on his skin and he did. He laughed as if it was a joke. I didn’t know what to make of it. How could this bright kid with an astute sense of right and wrong be talked into this kind of silliness? In him, I saw a boy trying to fit in with his peers.

Was there more to see? Did he tell me everything or just what he thought I could handle?