Not being understood is the most terrible curse in this world. Now I better understand those people like Kafka and Nietzsche. But, seemingly, there is no solution for that. If I ask myself how I can make others understand me, I recognize an even more terrible truth: That I don't myself understand myself!
To tell others what I want to tell them about me, I need to depend on language. There, I realize that I cannot express myself quite well in words. Words deceive me. Really. When I listen to my own narration, I realize that the words flow on their own account. It is as if I have a very insignificant role in the process. When I think, write or say something, I sense that the flow of the words are automatic, beyond my own control, obeying some prescribed structure of the language. That may be why I am still unsatisfied even after I think I said what I wanted to say.
I don’t trust words any more. They don't represent me. They don’t' represent my inner feelings and urges. They gravely misrepresent me. Perhaps, language itself is a prison!
I feel I am stuck in my own __________ . I don't know what is the word to be used here. Certainly it is not “life”, “body”, “paradigm” and so on. Nothing that I can think of. Still, I feel I am stuck. The fact is that I feel I am stuck. Perhaps, I feel that it is a fact that I feel that I am stuck. Or, even, it is a fact that I feel that it is a fact that I feel that I am stuck. I am exasperated! Language is a labyrinthine prison. Maybe, it is so for everyone, but not many realize it.
A few days back, I had been to Sivagiri. The most prominent proponents of Advaitic version of Hinduism were, I believe, Malayalis. Sri Sankara Acharya founded it. And Sree Narayana Guru was a major figure, as were Cattambi Swamikal, Nitya Chaitanya Yati, and so on.
Sivagiri Mutt of Sree Narayana Guru is situated on a hill. It is where the Guru is said to be enlightened. Being an atheist, I could not feel anything “sacred” or “spiritual” about that place. I did not feel any “cosmic vibrations” all those goat-head ones claim they feel when they go to places like this. But, still, it is a beautiful and serene place. Very close to the nature, calm, quiet and silent! I saw the Guru's hut – a very simple one. Great figures like Rabindra Nath Tagore and Gandhi visited the Guru there. Later, I went to the tomb of the Guru on the hill. Enjoying the serenity of the place and wondering about the magnificent life of the Guru, I returned. He was not just a saint. He was an politically activist saint, who acted as a spiritual vanguard of a great struggle of a bygone generation of oppressed people against the upper caste of Kerala.
Down the hill, in the book stall, I procured a copy of Guru's “Atmopatesa Satakam”. Written in a bit tougher Malayalam, but I don't like the interpretations and explanations added by someone for each stanza for some reason.
Those who still wonder how much money a man wants, when one would get satisfied in ones life and why life seems to be miserable even after becoming rich and healthy! I say unto them. Indeed life has no meaning. Life is absurd and worthless. But if you feel frustrated about it, then it is because you have not invented you own meaning to it. It is because you chase a non-existent illusion all the time without realizing that you are merely wandering aimlessly in a labyrinthine prison. But don't feel guilty about it too. It is not your fault. Absolutely not your fault. In sharing you my thoughts, I love you like God loves humans:)
Tempted to conclude with a quote, thanks to the movie Dead Poet's Society:
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,
to front only the essential facts of life,
and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,
and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
--Henry Thoreau
Chennai,
Dec 27, 2013
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