The Voices Within

“The moment you start restraining your character to what you think you are, you start leading an illusory life”, my father went on, stopping at regular intervals to look at my not-so-eager-to-hear-philosophy-first-thing-in-the-morning face. He either smiled or simply nodded, in deference to my childlike actions. But he would go on, nevertheless, reiterating what he said. I hated all this, especially the way he would start everything again, from the start, if I hadn’t paid attention. He would bounce back like a ball, if I, his prospective student did nothing to acknowledge what he said. My father to me, was my greatest ally and adversary. I actually envied his calm nature. The fact that I could never become he hurt me at times.

From time to time, his lectures on religion and philosophy would bore me to death. He must have known my propensity to other issues in life. He accepted me the way I was. We had tea breaks in between where we would talk about other things like Metaphysics and Cosmology. Not much of an improvement there, I know, but I started loving these lectures with a passionate animosity. When you don’t have a choice in things that are out of your control, all you do is wait for a miracle. And that was what I was expecting. A miracle. A faint hope that my father would leave me alone and start talking about cinema and entertainment, just like other kids’ dads did. But I was wrong. I should have known better. That day never came.

If I had known at that time about the word “hedonist” I would have proclaimed myself to be one. But I was only 18 then. An overgrown kid with no interest in anything yet everything. I was just a normal, yet-another school going kid with a liking for other sane pleasures. I would sometimes run away from him on the pretext of studying. What I did to make myself occupied is nobody’s business.

Every weekend to me, would mean hellish counsel. Though I liked my father more than anything else in the entire cosmos, his otherwise insistence that I become his successor was something hard to endure. No sane being would speak about Prakriti and Brahmam first thing in the morning. But we did. His was at all times, a monologue. I always  had an irresistible urge to ask him to talk about anything at all but would never do that. After all he was my sole relative. My mother had deserted us long back . So, I pitied my dad who took philosophising as a full time profession. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. What I had for him was a melange of inexpressible feelings. I almost revered my father. Things would have been great if we were on speaking terms. Not philosophising terms.

“The moment you start restraining your character to what you think you are, you start leading an illusory life. You fall into the trap of the conspirator, Maya or Illusion”, my father spoke the words again slowly, as if I were in a trance. The day’s question was “Is Life an illusion?” When I didn’t bother to answer the question, he started speaking, adjusting his half moon spectacles. I had to listen to many enlightening points that sadly didn’t have much of an effect on me. I sat there still, wondering why the balcony was always the meeting place. Perpetual stream of thoughts about the new film that was to be aired the day after and thoughts on the Facebook Mobwars application engulfed me. I was thinking how many people would join Mobwars under me when he said “I just happened to take a look at your Orkut profile.” His usual lopsided grin lingered.
I was shocked at first but composed myself. Why would my father of all the persons on earth have an orkut account? Words failed me and I didn’t volunteer any information. I kept staring at the bougainvillea that coveted my attention.

“You have an interesting “about-me” section. Care to explain why you think you are what you think you are?”

“I never knew you were on Orkut. Why didn’t you tell me before? This is a surprise, dad” I fumbled with the limited words I had access to.  Had I known that my father had an Orkut account, things would have been much simpler.I would never have craved a digital life. I at least wanted my virtual life to be fun!

“Never mind. Just tell me this. Your profile says you’re an atheist and a lot many things that I never knew you were. Can you please explain?”

One thing I truly detested in my father was this. He never digressed from his topics nor allowed others to mince with words. This was going to be tough, that much was certain. “I came up with that after a self-introspection session” was all I could manage to say. I wanted to please him but didn’t know if I could.

“Oh. And you found out the truth. Hmm. Tell me more. This is interesting.” He was clearly amused. His eyes were dancing. I wanted to run away to a place where there would be no language. Language had taken advantage of my sweetness and left me bereft of all happiness.

“I have always been an atheist, dad. I don’t know how to explain things. You are a living example of God! Why would I believe a God that would not help me and guide me? You and you alone shall have the effect in me. I won’t trust this unknown entity called God.After all that has happened, how can I trust Him? If He were real, he wouldn’t have made us suffer.”

What I didn’t expect at that instant was a sigh of pride in his voice that caused his usually cool temperament to falter.

“You are wrong. The younger generation today has misconstrued the concept of God.” He stood up, his stance reminding me of a lion about to get rampant. That was the only time I ever saw him get agitated.

“All the words I have uttered so far, have had no significance after all” He smiled sadly. I played with my fingers not wanting to face him. But I knew for sure that this god would understand me. “That’s okay. It’s the age. You are not to blame.” He continued, appraising me with his penetrating dark eyes “I tell you again, never ever restrain yourself to what you think you are. This entire life is for you to find out who you are. It’s easy to get influenced by books and the media and proclaim yourself as what is being shoved into your heads. Life is like a game of chess. You and I can’t control this never-ending game ; We are merely pawns of the game. We, the pawns have got infinite potential, yes, that we can destroy our adversary, the opposite King. But we choose not to do it. The King here is Maya which we force ourselves to believe, is the ultimate truth. But just think it over. The fact that the pawns exist is not an illusion. But at times, its very potential is decided by others’ play that it seems like an illusion. So, we, humans, are illusory real entities. The life we lead, is an illusion and yet is real. The pawn will be defeated any time by the allies of the adversary. It’s in our hands to stick to our side of the board and not becoming a scapegoat to the adversary’s plots.”

“Who’s the King on our side?” I was intrigued. I liked this theory very much and wanted to know more. This was also the first time I loved interacting with my father.

This made my father grin. “You are beginning to understand. Now, what what do you think it is?”

I scratched my chin. I almost jumped when I said “Truth or Knowledge”

“Enlightenment, Sidharth”. “You call it Samadhi in theoretical terms” He went on but the lines of perplexity on my face triggered him. “Samadhi is a divine state where the Jeevathma(Soul) mingles with the Paramathma(God).” He smiled again, looking proud when I nodded vigorously. “Or in scientific terms we call it the merging of biomagnetic force with the universal magnetic force.”

I was amazed. How did my father know this much? I despised myself for having not listened to his enlightening words before.

“Fabulous! Who are the queens and other dignitaries?”

“Ha ha! You are getting carried away. This is not a bed time story. But you have insisted and I might as well bore you. But I am only going to tell you who the Queens are. You come up with the rest.” He smiled crookedly, expecting me to join him. When he saw that I was not in the least interested in jokes at that instant, he furrowed his brows and started speaking as if he were giving an impromptu speech.

“The Queen on our side is the Guru or Mentor who helps you in realise yourself and the one abetting Maya or Illusion is Prakriti, the Black Queen, the one who creates Maya.”

Whoever told Chess was boring! I loved the personifications. How bad can that be?

“I have a couple of doubts, dad. Like how can a Guru be the Queen? He/she is human after all. Aren’t they pawns too? Also, do we not have the free will to play the game? Is everything predetermined? If at all everything is predetermined, who controls the game? If God were the controller, what’s His role here? ”

“Hmm. As regards the first question, you need to understand that a role of a mentor/Guru is indispensible for a man to reach the Samadhi state. How can you call such a significant person that helps in your transformation as a mere human/pawn? Is he/she not above all? As I had told you before, you people are under the misconception that we don’t have the right to decide our lives. That, in my opinion is sheer nonsense. We don’t have control over the results. Read the Bhagavad Gita. I don’t have to tell you that God controls the game. He does so from a distance. He is out there, somewhere, following whatever steps we make, to have Maya or Illusion in control. But He doesn’t showcase his presence.  It wouldn’t be fun if He were part of the game. Our side would always win and that would become monotonous. Consider the case in which He hides, watching it all with a smile on his face. He wants us all to lead an adventurous life. No, God isn’t controlling us totally.  Ipso facto, we are the players. It is we who decide about our fate, in either case!” He smiled and I was awestruck.

“We have talked too much today. Think about what I have told you. We’ll talk about this later.”

“But dad, I want to talk about everything now. Please. Not next week.” I stammered and he smiled mysteriously.

“Dad, We shall consider this as a tea break. Please” My heart palpitated.

His ear-ear grin made me gain hope. “And what is the next session about? Personification of coins in a carrom board perhaps?”

We laughed.