Monotony….

I had been reading Paulo Coelho since the last 2-3 days. The light was ignited in the summer of 2008, when I was suffering from Chicken pox. I live in a 1 BHK in a beautiful locality in the maximum city and my parents had confined me to my living room where I slept that night. The radio and books were my companion through the 15 days of isolation that the pox had put me under. I had joined a library a week before I got the chicken pox on the insistence of my neighbour who had suggested this particular government library because of the cheap monthly deal it gave her. I could borrow 2-3 books and finish reading them within a month's time. The late-coming fee was supposed to be Rs.1 per day. It was a steal deal back then. There was no social media or netflix back then to just scroll and chill. You could get lost in the mysteries that Feluda and his brother would solve or drown in the magic of Narnia, sailing far away from the monotony of life. What was life back then in 2008 anyway? It was going down to play hide and seek or land and water with friends. Go cycling in the morning around the colony or to a nearby park, go to a friends house in the afternoon after lunch for a game of cards or watch an old 50’s movie. Holidays meant something meaning back then. 

These memories just came flashing back to me as I first began reading Coelho’s Maktub. Maktub, he explained, means it is written. But is it written? It got me confused. They say people make their own destiny. But wise men also say it is all written. What IS written? Who you are born to or the home you are born in? The kind of environment you’re born in? The people you meet in every phase of life? Was it destiny that whatever was happening to me or whatever had happened to me- there was a reason behind it all? My reading of Paulo Coelho’s book did bring a lot of questions to my mind. 

There was a quote I read in a book by Khorshed Bhavanagri called The Laws of the spirit world. She says - You choose your mother. While rebirth, you choose the family you’re born into. There’s a thing about books you read that stick. You may choose to believe everything you read or nothing at all. The reason somethings you read or watch or hear stick to you is because at that exact point in time - it made a connection with your subconscious. You instantly realise why something is true. So yes, maybe I did choose my mother or the family I was born into.

A week back my mother was ill. She couldn’t get up from her bed because every time she tried, she used to sit with a heavy dizzy head. Let me describe my mother. If Rome would have been built in a day, she would have been the one making it possible. You get the picture! No? Okay then, if god made the world in seven days, my mom would have made it in one! NOW you get the picture! My mother is someone who works for 365 days for 18 hours everyday. Even when she’s on a holiday, she will want to help out in the kitchen in SOME way possible. I asked her once, why she keeps working continuously. She told me it was her way of keeping out the negative chatter or useless thoughts from her mind. Fair enough I thought. Everyone has their own way of dealing with shit. Lately she had been complaining about her office work as the WFH was becoming a pain and as usual her colleagues were taking advantage of her dedication and commitment to delivering work. My mother is 55 years old. She looks 45, she feels like she is 35 but she’s mentally 75. There - I set a context for what I am going to talk about next. Aging is a part of life. Aging gracefully is something we all wish for. But aging just because that’s how god meant it to be isn’t aging. It’s just biding your time for the friendly neighbourhood death to come visit you. 

Coming back to Paulo Coelho. I had just finished reading Maktub. For the uninitiated, Maktub is a book of treasured wisdom. For me, it's like a bible or my very own Bhagavad Gita. The book teaches you about the omens of the world — the daily opportunities and distractions that surround us on a daily basis and how it’s important to learn the language of the world. I went on to read another of Coelho’s classics called Like a flowing river. It’s another book full of riveting stories of hope, courage and spirituality. It’s one of those books that make you think about how you’ve been viewing life so far and how it is important to just get out your binoculars and start opening your eyes and ears to the blessing we call life. 

My mother who had been recovering from her sudden illness spent her time either playing with our month old kitten that we recently adopted or playing candy crush on her phone. I asked her if she didn’t get bored playing candy crush all the time and suggested she read a couple of books. “What will I do reading books?”, she said. “You’ll gain new knowledge, understand the world through a different lense, maybe change the way you think?, I suggested. She gave me a look that conveyed her total disregard for whatever I had said and she continued, “I am old now. What will I do reading books? I don’t need to read anything anymore nor do i care about it”. And that was that. 

It has been one supremely monotonous life my mother has lived. She woke up at 6.30am. Made breakfast and lunch. Packed her and my father’s lunch box. Rushed to catch the 8.05 train to Kurla. Got down at Kurla to again change the train to go to Deonar. Reached office at exactly 9am. Left at 5pm everyday to reach home by 6pm. Buy groceries along the way home. Reach home, get the food ready for dinner. Clean the house. Help me with studies, make dinner, wash the dishes and then sleep. This has been her life for the last 30+ years. The only thing she DOESN’T do anymore is help me or my sister with our studies. She’s been the most hard working wife and a dutiful mother - there’s no denying that. But she never took a chance to live a life as an individual that she was born to become. She doesn’t have any friends nor is she a woman of many passions. She doesn’t really have a hobby nor she is really passionate about anything particular in life. She doesn’t like going out or partying or having a get together with friends and she’s not particularly chatty. But she is diligent and disciplined. She doesn’t like drinking alcohol or people who drink alcohol or the word alcohol. 

Was being diligent and disciplined, dutiful and hard working enough to look back and think about how you’ve lived a fulfilling life? Maybe the monotony was comforting. Maybe that was the only constant in her otherwise fast life. 

It’s been 6 months since the lockdown. I love my family and we’ve bonded in a way I could never imagine because of the lockdown but I cannot wait to just get out of the house and walk freely anymore - without the mask and without fear. But for my mother, it’s been a blessing. It’s been a change in her usual routine. She doesn’t have to wake up at 7.30 anymore. She’s still dutiful and diligent but she’s no longer hard or disciplined. She’s not 35 anymore. The last week reminded her of that. 

It then came down to that one pertinent question I had for me all this while. Did I really choose my mother? Maybe there WAS a reason why I was born to my mother. My mother has taught me to be disciplined. To be hard working and organised. To do whatever you do with dedication. But there’s one IMPORTANT THING she taught me. How I SHOULD NOT be her. How I SHOULD NOT waste the next 30 years of my life in monotony. How there was more to life than the daily routine of a 9 to 5 job. How there is more to life than family and other menial commitments. How I shouldn’t let the monotony decide what my destiny will eventually phase out to be. There’s a phrase I heard by Shimon Peres which will stick to me for a while: The optimist and the pessimist both die in the end, but each lives his life in a completely different way’.