Of poetry, love and keeping the fantasy alive

There are two songs with some similar lines. Both songs are beautiful and can be easily related to by anyone who has loved or lost, or both.

The songs I speak of are Mujhse Pehli Si Mohabbat Mere Mehboob Na Maang by Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein Khayal Aata Hai by Sahir Ludhianvi.

The first song has the line

“Tu jo mil jaaye toh taqdeer nigun ho jaaye
Yun na tha maine faqat chaha tha yun ho jaaye”

(Were I to have you, my destiny would not matter.
This was not the way it was, but only how I desired it to be)

The second, by Sahir Ludhianvi, ends with

Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai
Ki jaise tu mujhe chahegi umr bhar yun hi
Uthegi meri taraf pyaar ki nazar yun hi
Main jaanta hoon ki tu ghair hai magar yun hi

(Once in a while, a fleeting thought settles upon my mind
That you will want me forever
And your eyes will always find me through the lenses of love
I know you are not mine, but nonetheless
Once in a while…)

I think both songs are brilliant and I am a fan both of both the poets, and relate to both songs equally. But as far as these two parts of these songs are concerned, I favour the second more than the first.

Let me tell you why.

One starts with a fantasy and then crashes it against the wall of reality. The other recognizes the constraints of reality but is belligerent enough to reiterate the fantasy that exists nonetheless, and almost enjoys it.

Playing, in children and in adults through imagination and fantasy, is an integral part of the experience of an unburdened sense of existing. A child who cannot play, adults who cannot dream or be spontaneous have lost parts of themselves that allow them to be free without being afraid.

The capacity to be surprised also shuts down when one has had to abandon fantasy and playing too soon to the demands of harsh reality. Being surprised means not knowing and not being in control, which creates a vulnerability that causes anxiety. The titles of both songs are significant if one thinks of them in light of the above. One says it can no longer be the way it used to once in a while, while the other wonders and allows itself to be carried with that wonder.

Sahir’s lyrics have two qualities of good psychotherapy (I refer to the psychoanalytic or depth psychological approaches). It has the capacity to surprise, for when I heard the song for the first time I was caught by surprise both at the point where he dips into the level of reality after giving a glimpse of what the mind has fantasized, as well as when he rises again from reality back to fantasy with the very last ‘I know…. But..”. A second quality it has is of giving something to keep the listener going, by not putting an end to his fantasy-ing and imagination. To go on being. What philosophers and others have called Eros.

Keeping the fantasy alive is important for one to feel “alive” in the true sense of being. Life is not about going towards something. It is about the here and now. The chase is more important than the capture. The capture brings about an end to the game. What do you do then?

The entire meaning of a wide range of emotions and their whole worth comes from your experience of them. Love, for instance. The maximum you can derive out of that emotion is to be in love, to feel it from the depths of your being. Not to feel it towards a certain object alone but rather to experience it within yourself. Being with the one you love is an advantage, but doesn’t, or shouldn’t change your experience of it in any way, because it became a complete emotion the moment you began to feel it.

It need not “have” the other in order to attain a greater or more evolved state.

Love is an experience inside your own being that leads you to find things outside of you to give it an outlet or an organized form. You may like someone or admire them because of their qualities, but you love them only if you have opened yourself up to feeling love in general in the first place.

But the beautiful thing is, the moment you are able to do this you feel like you have reached the pinnacle of what is pleasurable and makes life worth living.

Poets in their wonderful double entendres and their prose have captured the essence of life and love like no one else has.

Ghalib, (insert “Sigh” here) once wrote

“Tere vaade par jiye hum
to yeh jaan jhoot jaana
ki khushi se mar na jaate
agar aitbaar hota ? "

(To say that I live because of your promise to me

Would make this life of mine a lie.

For would I not have died of sheer joy

Had I trusted it to be sincere?)

Apart from the surface level meaning of the inability to trust the love of a beloved, I think what he is also trying to get at is the essence – the juissance- of life which is in the journey between wanting and having. We live in a valley of desire and longing, and to attain all that we want would be equivalent to ceasing to live.

Like delaying an orgasm indefinitely

So that the heightened arousal, which in itself is pleasing, doesn’t come to an immediate end.

There is a reason why I labelled this "Psychoanalysis" as well

Tune deewana banaaya toh main deewana bana

Ab mujhe hosh ki duniya mein tamaasha na bana*

-

You drove me to insanity and I became insane

Now don't make me a poor joke in the world of the sane

* Hazrat Shah Niyaz

(Translation by Muzaffar Ali)

Freud, by Dali

The Libido in the Library

Have you ever been in a library or near a book shelf and been overwhelmed by the psychic energy that fills the room? Just running your hands over the floor-to-ceiling shelves is an amazing experience, if it is accompanied by the thought that so many people in the history of mankind have cared enough about something so as to dedicate a significant portion of their existence to it.

What drives them to immerse themselves in their writing for months, often cutting themselves off from friends and family? What is it that welled up in them, to an extent that it wasn't enough to just think the thought and feel the feeling and be content?

Eros I say.

Beauty. Passion. Love.

Life.

Principles maketh the man

Sigmund Freud and Carl Gustav Jung were two great minds of the world (of psychology). They agreed on a few things, but disagreed on other significant matters. Because of the latter, they weren't very close friends.

Now Freud had shared a few of his own dreams and experiences with Jung, when they were on cordial enough terms to discuss this and that over cigars.

After the former's death, a reporter interviewing Jung did what reporters are paid to do- he made an attempt to make his story sizzle with a little inside information.

So, salivating at the mouth, he asked Jung, "Can you tell us one of Freud's dreams?"

Jung promptly replied that that information had been shared in confidence, and he would not compromise on that.

Surprisingly, the reporter actually asked him why not, since Freud was no longer around.

Jung, without batting an eyelid, replied-

"Because regards last longer than life."

I was already in love with Freud. These five words made me fall in love with C.G. Jung.

It speaks volumes about a person's character when they can respect their adversary. Like those fighters who bow to each other respectfully before or after a fight. Or when a bowler applauds a good shot off his delivery.

Or the warrior who doesn't attack when the opponent's back is turned, and instead waits for him to finish lifting his chariot out of the mud, so that he may fight with his head held high again.

There are battles that are fought with honour.

P.S. For those who don't know, the one in colour is Jung.

P.P.S. Don't they look like brothers? But while Jung is endearing in a charming, boyish sort of way, Freud looks like a strapping old fellow who seems to know what he is worth!

P.P.P.S. Ah! What wouldn't I give to spend an evening with them! Together or separately, as per their convenience and wishes! We would sit in plush couches and discuss great things over wine, coffee and cigars, throw our heads back and laugh at various things, "hmmm hmmm" at each other a lot, and generally be friendly.

Instead, I will just be content with the thought that in reading their work and deriving real pleasure out of it, I come as close as I can possibly get to them.

What dreams may come!

Without going into the interpretations etc and the details of the elaborate story I dreamt last night, allow me to share a particularly interesting dream image.

There are round tables everywhere, like at a reception dinner. I walk across the room and see George Bush sitting at one of the tables. Walking past his table, I deliberately ignore him. But just as I cross him, he leaps out of his chair and thrusts out his hand with that irritating impish grin of his and says "Hello, how are you?" I do a mental 'uh' and manage to stretch my hand towards a lifeless handshake. And I suddenly feel very bad for him. The thought in my head- "You poor thing. Not many people like you and here you are trying your best to be all amicable and enthusiastic"

What all this means? It's for me to know and you to never find out.

Funny though...non?

Am I here?

Chat/Internet is acting weird and bipolar these days. This has caused me to ask- "Am I here?"- a shocking number of times in a day. To illustrate, a recent conversation with TQ

Holy Cow: Hello? Am I here?!
(Silence)
Holy Cow: I need you so I can find myself!
TQ: Yes. I am right here :)

Such sweet words! Music to my ears! Oh! And the joy on hearing that I was in fact present at the scene of the chat and I did in fact exist.

This really takes Winnicott's theory of being able to be only when you find yourself reflected back through the other, to another level now doesn't it!

To Sir With Love

One of my few artistic attempts. This one I am actually quite proud of!

inspiring, loving, confusing, funny, friendly, witty, musical, mystical, whimsical, infuriating, understanding, and absolutely charming!

A philosophical text, a psychoanalyst, and a birthday party.

The Mahabharata, is a fantastic story- with characters that aren't black or white but in varying shades of grey. Covering a rather vast spectrum of issues, it has information you can actually use in day to day life.

My first exposure, and one that left a pretty strong impression on me, of the Mahabharata was the television series that Doordarshan used to show every Sunday morning. I used to watch it regularly. I was about 8-10 years of age.

The Bhagavad Gita is a part of the Mahabharata and before I read the entire text recently, I had memorised the following lines as a little girl. (Thanks to the TV show. This was the opening track)

Yada yada hi dharmasya, glanirva bhavati bharata
Abhyuthanam adharmasya, tadaatmaanam srijami aham,
Paritranaya sadhunam, vinashayaschadushkritam,
Dharma sansthapan aarthay, sambhavaami yuge yuge.

I will not attempt a literal translation. The meaning is basically that since time immemorial, whenever man has gone astray from the path of dharma, the prescribed way of life, whenever evil has overpowered good, the Lord himself has assumed human form and descended to earth, to destroy evil, reinstate dharma and righteousness.

Given the abovementioned, the question that came to my mind was this – if the birth of Lord upon the earth took place in a time of chaos and destruction, of corruption and violence, of the stripping of innocence and the slipping of moral values, then what exactly are we celebrating with Janamashtami, Ram Navami ?(Other religions too, but I am holding Vishnu responsible because it was one of his avatars - reincarnations- who allegedly said the abovementioned)

Do we celebrate because, finally, we have a saviour among us? Someone who will deliver us from the hell we have created for ourselves? Does the celebration mark the end of a long period of darkness? Is the exultation with joy masking a sigh of relief?

What I am basically trying to get at is the difference between the period before the birth of a child, and the birth of the Lord. Both are celebrated, no doubt. Both for largely selfish reasons (Of course, I accept all the flak I may face for saying that the decision to have a child is a purely selfish one. But, well that's that).

What’s the difference then?

The difference that strikes me, is that while the period before the birth of a child need not be a chaotic and dismal one, that before the birth of the Lord, in a human from (which is the only acceptable form for most people, which itself warrants a whole other discussion) necessarily does. That is, he wouldn't even be here if it weren't for our misdeeds etc. The fact that he is around should be accepted as proof that things are not quite as peachy and perfect as they ought to be.

This brings me to the next element. Donald Winnicott. (Before I go further, I must state that my knowledge of Winnicott’s theories and formulations is rather rudimentary. However, I couldn't’t wait for my knowledge to expand before I put these thoughts down. These thoughts will probably expand as and when my knowledge does).

So, Winnicott. For those unfamiliar with him, Donald Winnicott is a Psychodynamic (A tradition that branched off from classical Psychoanalysis) thinker and clinician. He has worked extensively with children, and his writings have allowed us to have a closer understanding of the inner world of a child.

One of his ideas that have stayed with me is that of the child or infant creating its mother- At the risk of oversimplification, it means that for healthy development and identity formation the mother has to be available at just the right time when the child thinks of her or wants her; allowing the child to feel that he/she has conjured her up magically; that she is by him/her and for him/her.

I think mankind carries within itself the Winnicottian child. Just as the child brings the parent, or more specifically the mother into existence, just as the child creates the mother, mankind also creates its God. The child creating the parent is a healthy process, as is mankind creating God I guess. But the sad part is that God is created out of a need more than a wish.

The child’s aggression, creativity and play, are manifested in the manner in which the child tests his environment, his parents, to check if they can withstand his outbursts. If they can, then all is well and the child moves on, grows. Analogously, the chaos and tumult which characterizes the period before the birth of God, could be equated with the child-adolescent like testing of the parent (God is, after all, our supreme mother and father). The child throws its toys about, makes a mess and the mother smiles patiently and lovingly, teaches the child how to restore order. The child is content that his mother can handle him, that he is in good hands, and life is good again. It is essentially the same thing with God.

We need to know that he is around, we need to assure ourselves that he can withstand us. So, to refine the earlier distinction between the birth of the child and the birth of God. In the former case, we give birth to our offspring. In the latter, we give birth to our parent.

All this is not to suggest that one must not celebrate the birth of God the way one does. Who could argue that the repeated re assurances, the repeated rescues the Lord (allegedly) makes for our sake, when we need it the most, is anything but a reason to rejoice?

But the question is, how many such rescues will have to be made, how many re assurances given before we are assured? Perhaps we need to give him a break. Perhaps we need to stop testing him. After all, a mother also loses her cool with her child sometimes. How much do we really want to try his patience?

Its time to stop assuming someone will come and be our saviour. Only then can we stop making a bloody mess of our lives and of this planet. As it is, it would be better if we took care of ourselves. We wouldn't need the poor fellow to leave his own worries behind and come to our rescue.