What are you really sure of?

What are you really sure of?

Some years ago on one of my meditation camps we were encouraged to select a person in the crowd, sit with him/her, and continue to dialogue with the other just one question, “ Who are you?” 

As you began answering the question, the same question would be repeated, ‘who are you?’ and so on.  It soon became obvious to me, that all the answers I provided were more around, ‘What I am?’ than to ‘who I was’. I could describe a name, a role in an organization, adjectives to describe relationships with other people, some values I held very dear to me. As the same question repeated itself on and on, I began to experience myself conjecture opinions about myself: beliefs I held about myself. But sadly, these were just beliefs: I doubted deeply whether they were true. Like when I once replied, “I am part of the deep consciousness”, was that something I knew, or believed in. What was I really sure of?

Ouspensky wrote, “Our aim is to become one, to have one permanent "I". But in the beginning work means to become more and more divided. You must realize how far you are from being one, and only when you know all these fractions of yourself can work begin on one or some principal "I"s around which unity can be built. It would be wrong understanding to unify all the things you find in yourself now. The new "I" is something you do not know at present; it grows from something you can trust. At first, in separating false personality from you, try to divide yourself into what you can call reliable and what you find unreliable”.

Ramana Maharishi avered, The thought ‘who am I?’ will destroy all other thoughts, and like the stick used for stirring the burning pyre, it will itself in the end get destroyed. Then, there will arise Self-realization.

So remember, whenever someone asks you, Who are you? Do you end up answering what you believe you are?

Can we really be sure of anything?

Pulin Garg. Ex Professor IIMA, Founder ISISD.

Written on 7^th September, 2004, reproduced:

Pulin was such a simple man yet he was complex. His life was a lot about paradoxes. A rural man, yet sophisticate in the ways of the world; well traveled in US, UK and France, yet he was deeply rooted  to his village in Gujarat. He was a simple preacher, yet his writings were complex and difficult to fathom- they held complex thoughts, difficult to comprehend, for an untrained mind.  His visage was calm and peaceful and thoughtful at most times. Early morning, he would always break out in cheerful smiles, laugh away loudly as he flittered from one breakfast table to another at the ISISD Summer Conference. I was fortunate to sit with him on many of those occasions as he regaled us with stories of his past (even past lives!) Some of them I had heard before but it always amused me to hear him recount them yet again, it used to please him so much – those stories; it brought a glow to his face, an infectious smile that lit up his countenance ,brightening his whole face, that it gave me so much of pleasure just to see him in this way.

I am not sure what was the first impression I had when I first met him ; but I am sure I know when I met him. It was in May 1992 at Cida de Goa at ISISD Conference. I was undergoing my first phase internship in process work ( a group I was associated with well up to  Pulin’s  demise in 2002. Remember, him most vividly in the last few days – the marathon (we were working on the theme Purveyor of guilt and shame). I just knew that he was a wise man, a kind man, compassionate, with great knowledge and wisdom, a man who had steel like integrity, a courage of his own conviction and a provocative ability to challenge the status quo. He was always in search for ‘truth’: it shown in front of him like a beam whose trajectory would not go off course. He was humble, yet arrogant about his knowledge :he would defend his viewpoint with conviction and force.

But what I most liked about him was that he was willing to challenge and enquire into himself and others – of their authenticity in the process. He was a Guru of Gurus. I’d sit with other faculty ( several years later) and de-brief on work going on in each sub small group – our hypothesis of what was happening….likewise each faculty(usually in pairs) would de-brief. I ‘d watch with interest, even awe, the way Pulin would conduct these sessions. Especially, when he would himself offer a hypothesis on where the community were at; he would weave together a whole hosts of simultaneous events happening in the community and create a fabric on which he would offer a hypothesis. It was stunning- the man! The craftsman! The Master Craftman- yet this was not a craft for him- it was his life and everything he stood for…. In his last day he was even willing to forsake his meanings to ISISD too and walk away – such was the man.

  

I know a lot of people who know Pulin, who know of him, or have been influenced indirectly by his work. There is a common set of words and feelings that we can all relate with at one level as we describe him and our relatedness to him. In this we find our bonding and our unified strength from association. Yet, this master has made with each student a very special place so unique that I find it hard to describe. It is as if everyone had Pulin belong to us in a very special way- in a deeply personal sort of way, special and personal and unique .It was fantastic ; even now as I talk about him to others, friends would share with me some very special moments they have had with him- moments that they have treasured; even now they draw on those memories to pull them through. He was such a treasure; being with him was a gift so precious that it(the Joy!) was savored till the last, the memories held it on even longer(and the joy was ever retained as it does for me). Each of us would recount special advise given by him, a direction shown, a kind word expressed when needed most, but most of all – his ability to empathise – to understand us in a deep soulful way, and express that he cared, and faith that we would see it through. ‘What is this nature of fragility that you hold?” he would often ask us….daring us to walk , where no man has walked before. 

I loved him as a teacher , a friend , an old wise man, a man who had so many faults – big ones and small ones, pet peeves, idiosyncrasies , and irritants….yet he had many big faults too : he was selfish at times, protective of his source ( references – felt accused when he was asked where did that come from? How would I know he would counter. I have read, experienced so much, that lessons over the years have become internalized, some belong to me , some from others, some I have enmeshed together-so why are u asking? He was terrible when he was angry, given to fits of screaming and ranting. I heard ( no direct experience) that others felt he felt threatened when he was not in the driver’s seat. I suspect it was their way of rationalizing----- he was so much obsessesed with the authencity of the process that he would brook no contamination or inauthencity. To me, it always seemed to be , an issue of sour grapes, when others found him wresting the controls back. Yet, it was true Pulin liked to be centre stage. Sometimes, I think he felt his mentees were trying to outstage him ; those times he would cause havoc in the community.

  

Others loved him very dearly and differently too ; for some he was a father, always there , protective always and reassuring….

Paradoxically, many of those who loved him deeply (and do so even today) had to leave him one by one. He was like that. They felt that their lives were getting too involved and complex with Pulin in their lives in such a strong way. I never understood this ever – for me I had kept Pulin as a person and my own personhood separate ; I suspect many had swallowed him whole, internalized him completely and were not able to distinguish what was him and what was theirs.

The day I heard he died – I cried. In a deep and very personal way. And even now, when I think of him, I feel a lump in my throat. No man has walked this way so powerfully across my life, crisscrossing it with such a hue of colour! He said ( and I am sure he lied) – that one of the songs from Anand (  was plagiarized by the songwriter – the original was a poem he had written years back he avers. Even know, every time I hear that song, in a group, I close my eyes and tears moisten my face. I have a picture of him at home ( in the sitting room) my wife is quite selective of what goes in there, yet she ( to my surprise) has allowed me to keep him in a prominent place – as a proud member of our home. I suspect it is her quiet approval of his work, an acknowledgement for what he has done and a payment for some progress she has seen in me ( not sure!!!!).

What did he teach ? It was not what…. It was how he taught!!!! More so, who he was! The whole technology ( I call it that only because he was ok with that term; personally I don’t like that term) was unique and experiential. Process work, at its best is an invitation to join in; at its worst it’s an intrusion on one’s privacy. Process work is a simultaneous process of being in touch with our thoughts, feelings and action modalities in unison. It offers people an opportunity to explore the ‘thing’ that lies within, the nature of the ‘thing’ that causes action , feelings and thoughts to form and flow, to study how we journeyed with this ‘thing’ how it has formed, reformed over time , re-calibrating ever so often.

And out there my son announces he has seen a rainbow!!! I look out of my window in disbelief ; indeed like an arc over the church (which lies besides my house) I see the bright colours of the rainbow. I pause now. Rewarded for my work. In some way, Pulin is like that – a rainbow that will always be there, when needed most! Adieu my friend! Cheers. In my minds eye I see you nod, and sit back.

John Mason, Principal, St James', kolkata

Our fondest memories are with those with whom we have experienced life changing moments. Sadly it seems that such intense and treasured memories lie in the deep recess of our minds, giving pleasure to self, from time to time. It is time now to acknowledge these special folks in my life, to share with others, and to honour.

John Mason is one such treasured person in my life. He was the principal of St James’ School during the period 1980-1982. St James’ school was everything one hoped for, and John Mason, the perfect quintessential Principal.

I met him during the admission time, and he was cautious about my grades in Hindi. I was adamant that I would do well in the board exam. He leant forward and said, ’Tell you what, come see me, when your results are out”. That ended the debate. Months later I went back. He admitted me on the spot.

Mason encouraged all of us to participate in extra curricular activities. One day he strolled into our classroom and his eyes settled on me as he invited me to take part in the debate competition. I protested, saying I could never debate. “How would you know you cannot”, he countered, “unless you tried. I want to see you on the podium next week, young man” he said as he walked out. The next week I went up on the podium, my first time, and over the years many such events followed. But it was just sheer nectar, that first moment when he walked up to me after the debate, and shook my hand, my face all flushed and red with excitement.

Then there was that moment pre selection ahead of the final exams when he walked into our class, and started to address each student, exhorting each one to give their best performance. When my turn came, he looked at my academic progress scores, which was quite good, but his eye picked the lowest subject (no guesses, it was Hindi again).  “So what do you have to say about this”, he challenged me. I will do well, I replied, but weakly, this time quite uncertain of myself.

Then to my surprise he said, ‘I know you will do well. I recall the day on the track field last summer. You had red all over your foot (I had wounded myself and bloodly). You still picked yourself and ran that race and completed it. I know you will finish this one too”. No surprise he words spurred me. I put my mind to the task, not so much for myself but for the faith he had put in me.

I finished off St James’ as a school prefect, stood second in my class in the board exams, and had a string of certificates in field and track events, soccer, as also debating, elocution and plays.

I curiously wonder what made John Mason pick me that day in class? I know it could have been anyone: each of us is a seed of potential. Today, I would like to thank you Sir. Your encouragement helped me, as I am sure that would be true for so many others.

Fr. Mcgrath, SJ, XLRI, Jamshedpur - a tribute

Fr. Mcgrath ( Fr. Maggie as we so affectionally called him) is indeed a 'walking OB’ in every way. I’m afraid those were the days of non digital photographs and while I do not have any pictures to share, his memory is deeply embedded in the warm recess of my mind and heart.

I met him for the first time as we lumbered out of the bus way back in April 1984. There he was at the gate ( looking almost like Ronald Reagan) welcoming each of us, and by name! Then it struck me how much time he must have spent going through all the admission photos to memorise our names, to make this welcome so unique, so very personalised. That was my first lesson in connecting, and one demonstrated in action. 

XLRi was every place I had hoped for an more: a school for excellence in Leadership. Maggie walked the talk on this score each time. I remember his one tip: be considerate to others, as he pointed out, that a dropped cigarette butt outside the bin meant someone in housekeeping needed to pick each one up. 

Of the 45+ courses I went through over the next two years, the one that stood out for me, like the Mount Everest, was the Basic Managerial Skills Course that he facilitated. Every session was an act unto itself from the time we got to introducing ourselves, learning each others names: it was action learning, fun and challenge all rolled in one. The first semester was filled with numerous modules: from team building, to committees, to social work, extempore and projects, aided by suggestions by our seniors, as we became conscious of new behaviours we needed to learn to become managers. Then almost all of us got straight A’s: he knew we were unique, non comparable, outside relative rating. His grading symbolised that: it gave me deep insight that in the ultimate analysis we are all competing with ourselves, no one else. 

I saw other sides of Maggie. He was our floor warden, regularly inspecting for discipline: drinking on campus or someone smoking the peace pipe. His threat was real at all times: it forced discretion. he knew at times rules were broken, like most young men would want to do, yet I suspect he held back, allowing for the occasional minor transgressions, wise in the knowledge that boys will be boys. 

Then I experienced Maggie as my Sunday preacher (on the rare occasions i attended the chapel). He was my priest, righteous, wise and showed me the way to live my life with whatever small dose of spiritual spark that may have ignited then. 

Then I saw him as my mate: he taught us softball, and wow was that a game I still delight in! In this sport all that was American came through, and I was humbled that he choose to spend his time with us, each day igniting one candle to the mission ahead. 

These are but a few memories, yet there are so many, each rich and profound.

Just a few years back, on our 25th Silver Jubilee I returned back to campus. It brought tears to see Maggie once again. Cheerful, despite his failing health, he smiled and warmly greeted each one of us. Everyone tried to ask him, if he could remember them. He smiled warmly at each questioner and gently lied, as he said YES. Tears came to my eyes as I saw him repeatedly do this: how could it possible he would remember, changed faces, 25 years later, multiple of names, yet he said he did, what I knew he would. He said YES, for he knew it would make us feel Special, Unique, recognised. And as each one felt gratified, at being remembered, he must have forgiven himself for those white lies.

Maggie is everything you want in a leader, everything you want to see in your self. As Jack Nicholson, once famously dialogued ( as good as it gets) to his lady love, ‘You make me want to be a better man!”.  So too, does Maggie Inspire each and everyone of us to ‘keep walking’ and stay tall. He will continue to endure for all times, for he lives not just in our hearts, but in our lives.

Maggie, thank you for our paths crossing. I must have done something good to deserve this privilege. Your life has been a lesson. Your candle will glow despite the wind, your legend always will.

Somebody, Nobody and Everybody: do they exist?

Somebody, Nobody and Everybody

A man is struck down by a speeding car, he falls to the ground and smashes his head, the ground slowly gets covered with blood. Everybody around watches, Nobody reacts, Somebody is supposed to do something. This is one scene. There could be multiple others.

Fascinating but these three types of folks live with us ever present in our daily lives.

We hear about them each day at work and at home and on all social occasions. ‘Somebody’, says one person ‘should do something about this’. ‘Nobody’ seems to be interested in just about anything that requires something to be done. While ‘Everybody’ is waiting forever for ‘Somebody’ to act all the time.

‘Wonder why Nobody has thought about this? says one person to another. Where is everybody? Seems to me Nobody and Somebody have taken a solemn oath to stay away with non acting, while all actions seem to be under the remit of ‘Somebody’.

How often each day, do you use these three references: Somebody, Nobody or Everybody. Who are they really? Do they really exist? Will these three ever act?

Yet, the reality is that we are ourselves part of all three: we are Somebody, Everybody and Nobody. That’s you and me.

When Somebody fails to act, the YOU, that is part of Somebody fails to act. We are responsible for what happens in existence, and we owe it to ourselves to feel responsible to what happens to it and to feel responsible for what is happening or non-happening.  Nobody, is also YOU and I: we choose to stay inattentive to awareness of that which is around us. Yet, the YOU and I in Everybody is to hold responsibility for what happens.

Maybe we need to move away from the ‘body’ that creates the separateness. Yes, understandably bodies are distinct, unique, separate. Perhaps we need to engage with the bodymind: the one that is both subtle and gross. We are all part of the universal bodymind: as the drop is part of the ocean. Then through this lens there can be no separation: everything is one, interdependent and inter related in mutual co-existence.

Stay aware: watch each time you use these three words. Become aware of the self negation. Awaken to your own potency, when you declare: I am responsible!