Gandhi - Epidemic and Illness

In current times when information flows incessantly from all directions, it is easier than ever before to feel a little lost in the flood that such information creates. What furthermore complicates the problem is every source of information has its set of vested interests, biases and limitations.

In order to be able to assess all this objectively and stand up – against this maddening flow of information and mis-information,  I thought to look up someone with a distinct expertise in standing one’s ground against all sorts of pre-conceived notions, forces from media and rulers as well as his own idiosyncrasies as an individual  - M.K. Gandhi.  Although there are hardly any direct parallels from the times when Gandhi lived and the current situation, there are a couple of episodes that provide useful reference. They are noted here in brief.

Ø  Outbreak of Plague in Johannesburg

Most Indians in Africa were staying in places that was commonly known as “Coolie location”.   One such location had an outbreak of pneumonic plague.

On receiving the news of an outbreak to 23 individuals at once Gandhi reached at the location and took it upon himself to serve the sick. He used one of the local municipality’s building and turned it into a makeshift hospital.

He also criticized the government and appealed to them for providing as much support as possible to prevent the outbreak from spreading further. He selected individuals who were comparatively healthier and had no other family members to take the nursing responsibilities and even spared the government nurse from coming in direct contact with patients.

His duties were routine and limited to following instructions from the doctor and providing with basic needs and cleanliness of the patients. Since he was attending active patients – he chose to self-isolate himself and consciously avoided his friends and associates during this time. He also was inclined to keep a very light diet during this time and followed through on it rigorously.

Of 23 patients only 2 survived – rest of the patients along with the nurse succumbed to the disease. However, the doctor, Gandhi and his volunteer friends did not catch the plague. In days that followed, it appears that the location was put under similar arrangements that we see today in quarantine areas, “The location was put under a strong guard, passage in and out being made impossible without permission. My co-workers and I had free permits of entry and exit. The decision was to make the whole location population vacate and live under canvas for three weeks in an open plain about thirteen miles from Johannesburg, and then to set fire to the location[1].”  Although difficult – but he was able to get a consensus among Indians to agree with the plan from the municipality and everyone shifter to live under canvas. Gandhi played a role in suggesting people to take care of their savings, helping them open bank accounts and ensuring that their savings were not squandered in this quick and sudden relocation.

His ability to find things that are of help to others and start executing them in an organized manner is amazing.

Ø  In a chapter titled as Near Death’s door in his autobiography Gandhi outlines his experience throughout one of the longest and most severe illnesses he had to go through. This period coincides with another outbreak – that of the Spanish flu – however experts believe he was not ill with that flu[2]. This episode, therefore, becomes relevant for people suffering illnesses other than Covid-19 currently.

As someone who did not take fondly to outside medicines’ use – Gandhi staunchly stuck to his own methods in treating himself. He refused taking either medicines, injections or even milk – (he had avowed to avoid milk from cow and buffalo). Although he later acknowledged that his denial of injections was based on incorrect information and he should not have avoided them. It is important to note that denial of medicines did not mean denial in getting well – he constantly tried approaches he was okay with and consulted several doctors to come up with a treatment that was both – in line with his principles and effective but he refused any compromise – even if it meant risking his life.

What strikes me most as a reader during this chapter is the fact that Gandhi treats his illness as a subject of study – and finds within himself the possible causes of illness. His view might be called too harsh on himself – at times viewing pain as a necessary result of his own actions – but they are not without a basis – he was able to observe his actions that triggered the disease and work towards correcting them. He was also candid in acknowledging that he had become so weak that he almost thought he died – despite doctor suggesting that his pulse was fine!

He also uses the illness as an opportunity to reflect and rise in his understanding of himself. To be able to view himself as objectively as he does - is inspiring! While his level of staunchness in his methods might be unwise to emulate, what we can aspire to achieve is his devotion in studying himself objectively.

Re-reading certain parts of his autobiography certainly helped me take a different perspective of things as they stand!  

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[1] https://www.mkgandhi.org/autobio/chap94.htm

[2] https://www.telegraphindia.com/opinion/gandhi-at-the-time-of-the-spanish-flu/cid/1766054

Book Review The course of Love – Alain De Botton

The course of Love – Alain De Botton

“Our understanding of love has been hijacked and beguiled by its first distractingly moving moments. We have allowed our love stories to end way too early. We seem to know far too much about how love starts and recklessly little about how it might continue.” That we concentrate far too much on beginning and far too little about the continuance of love is reflected in a question

the couple is bound to be asked, “How did you two meet?”

In this book, Alain De Botton takes us through the progress of love through a story of a couple.

Rabih and Kirsten are young professionals when they first met. Enamored by each other, after a brief courtship they decided to explore the meaning of a vague phrase, “happily ever after”. That’s where this story begins. The story revolves around touchstones of a marriage from infatuation, irreconcilable desires, challenges of raising kids etc. They understand the harrowing amounts of energy it takes to sustain and blossom a household through routine life. Lead characters of this story serve as extended case study for the author – who keeps up with his style of extended commentary on what is going on with his characters.

For example difference of opinion, between the two over which set of tumblers to buy for kitchen, ideal room temperature at night, how early should one leave for a party, positioning of blinds on window, etc. provide us a useful insight that these seemingly silly things are actually just the loose threads that tie back to the fundamental contrasts of their persona which requires better recognition and reconciliation.

It also brings out how crucial it is to be able to communicate better, author hints that were Rabih or Kirsten better communicators – one of them might have told the other in response to insistence for over punctuality that “Leaving early, is ,in the end, a symptom of fear. In a world of randomness and surprises, it is a technique I have developed to ward off anxiety and an unholy unnamable sense of dread. I want to be on time (in fact a little ahead of it) same way others lust for power and form a similar drive for security.”

The story moves on and we see other sides of their marital bliss, the sulks resulting out of their differences or their conjoined exploration of each other’s bodies. Here too, through an intricate example where Rabih mentioned that a particular young waitress crossed his mind while having intercourse with Kirsten, the author helps us tease out something very important about marriage. Rabih acts defensive and ashamed at a weirdness of his thoughts whereas Kirsten, furious at first and judgmental later- frowns at the presence of someone else even in Rabih’s fantasies.

In an alternative, better communicating versions of lead characters this scenario might have played out differently per author. Rabih might have been able to square up to Kirsten with his desires like a natural scientist holding up for colleague’s inspection some newly discovered, peculiar looking species which both of them might strive to understand and accommodate themselves to.  And Kirsten in response might have told “the nature of this particular daydream is foreign, unfamiliar and frankly not a little disgusting to me; but I am interested in hearing about it nonetheless because more important than my relative comfort is my ability to cope with who you are. I will never be able to do or be all that you want –and vice-versa but I would like to think we can be the sort of people who will dare to tell each other who we really are. The alternative is silence and lies – which are real enemies of love.

Sadly in the novel, Rabih and Kirsten just move on to things that give instant gratification – by going to a movie and then a dinner, rather than engaging with each other and thereby quelling any chance of understanding weird byways of their psyches.  

As we go further this book it turns to parenthood and children. What children have to offer us about understanding love is amazing. William, their son, for example- is pleased by rudimentary things that as grown-ups we have forgotten to enjoy. Author’s excellent description makes for a heartwarming reading, he writes, “William is an enthusiast of a class of uncomplicated things which have, unfairly, become boring to adults; like a great artist; he is a master at renewing his audience’s appreciation of the so-called minor sides of life.” Further, he adds for parenting that, “The role of being a good parent brings with it one large and very tricky requirement: to be the constant bearer of deeply unfortunate news. The good parent must be the defender of a range of child’s long-term interests, which are by nature entirely impossible for the child to envisage, let alone assent cheerfully. Out of love, parents must gird themselves to speak of clean teeth, tidy rooms, bedtimes, generosity and limits to computer usage. Out of love, they must adopt the guise of bores with a hateful and maddening habit of bringing up unwelcome facts about existence just when the fun is really starting. And as a result of these subterranean loving acts, good parents must, if things have gone well, end up as the special targets of intense resentment and indignation.”

De Botton excels in Montaigne-like close observations of the routine and banal aspects of life, such as lost car keys, professional anxieties, burdens and boredoms of child rearing etc. While he may not be the kind of great novelists one knows like Flaubert Gustav, Rabindranath Tagore or Tolstoy – in an age troubled with shortage of time, lack of patience and ever increasing need for speed he is surely one of the most useful ones!!   

The present book provides a useful perspective on how love is not just an emotion but also a skill that needs to be developed over one’s lifetime.

è Italicized portions are from the book

Meeting with Murakami

I don't think you love me anymore, my current favourite author, Haruki Murakami told me. There was no complaint in his voice, only a bit of resignation. Similar to the one that I often saw in the copy of his book, lying next to my bed - untouched for last 6 months! Guilt of not having read it, troubled me. He kept staring at the book, and said nothing. 

Just as I was about to pick the book up with a resolve to complete it cover to cover; my flatmate shouted with frustration! “When will you ever become a regular at Gym?, because of you, even I have become irregular.” His accusation had no basis - but it still hurt. Excess fat in my body was visible. Suddenly a scene from recent cricket match came in mind, when I got run out while attempting a second run. 

There was a strong urge to run, keep running, until I became fit and fast! I told him to wait for a couple of minutes while I get ready for the gym. Not more than 15 minutes on the treadmill I stopped and returned home - tired. 

First thing to come to sight was the unopened book, and the disappointment on Murakami’s face. However, I brushed them aside and moved for shower.

After shower, as I was about to start reading, calendar buzzed - reminding me of an additional assignment I had taken at work. I snoozed the reminder for 5 minutes and picked up the book - half hoping it will never let me go back! 

Since next day was a Sunday, I thought to pull an all-nighter in order to finish the book. However, there was just one thing that I was equally resolved to do that day; it was to talk to my parents at length. Routine leaves with little time at hand and candid conversations can hardly take place - so for such personal conversations weekends are more suited. After an hour long , deeply satisfying conversation - I finally turned my mind to the book again. Shortly after, phone again buzzed - this time with an email , it was a third reminder for paying the electricity bill for the month. If I don't pay it now, it will get further delayed, I thought, and opened the computer again to make the payment.

While I was making the payment, my favourite film actress appeared and told me about her newly launched TV series being shot in US! It was exciting, so I thought to watch an episode of the show. 

When tiredness meets temptation, it is very difficult to resist. One after another, episodes kept streaming and before long, it was one hour past midnight. I finally turned the computer off. 

For the next 15 minutes, I struggled between the book and sleep - finally sleep survived.  

He waited till two of clock, then finally, walked off in anger from my room with his book! I ran behind him, asking him to forgive me and return the book.

“I just need one day, I just need one day” - I was shouting, but he disappeared! Perhaps he knew that the one day I needed might never come!

Suddenly I woke up with perspiration! This is how Murakami met me in a dream. 

Scorecard of Success

While reading something random some days back, I came across a mention of an economist who had propounded one of the most relevant concepts in sociology and economics.

This man’s name is Thorsten Veblen, trained at Yale, he wrote a book in the year 1899 in which he described three concepts which, I believe, have gripped our lives from all ends very tightly. Not only these concepts guide our actions they also shape the way we think, believe and even dream!!

The first one refers to the phenomenon where a social class of a person is defined by the kind of consumption that a person indulges into. The more the extravagance associated with the purchases, the higher the social class. He called it Conspicuous consumption. Remember that friend of yours who always flaunted the “Most expensive Mobile, bag, house, car etc.??

This concept was innocuous and healthy until it gave way to another dangerous phenomenon that Thorsten observed. It was “Pecuniary Emulation” it referred to people going beyond their means in order to emulate the consumption and consumer behaviour (You better get the difference between the two!!) of those who are considered to be belonging to the higher class in the society. After all who does not want to be talk of the town???

It is astonishing how brutally these concepts have eroded much of our sense of proportion and aesthetics. We now keep a constant scorecard of our success with material benchmark, which in Thorsten’s words is called, “Invidious comparison.”

It has been just a little over 100 years that these concepts have been identified and examined, yet they seem to be getting stronger and stronger in their application and grip over our minds.

Isn’t it???

PS: For better understanding of what I am saying, sell off the dictionary and buy yourself a nice mirror!!! It will work better.

The Teacher - An Excerpt from a Book

A remarkable school teacher

Some times of an evening you might chance to see a frail-looking man, short and short sighted, in a black coat and with a prodigious head, walking along the oval pathway. He is a nation builder,- he has helped to educate two generations. He must still be coming back into the memories of thousands who have forgotten all that they set out to learn at school.

Life has not given Nusserwanji P. Pavri his meed of reward, but that has not dulled the edge of his cheerful debonair spirit. He evidently believes that Dante was right in condemning to Stygian marsh those who had been sad under the blessed sunlight. With all his sure and enormous erudition, he is Modesty in person. He has not produced any book. The result of his labour is not so many hundred pages but himself. The issue of his sustained mental effort is not a volume but a man; it could not be embodied in print, it consists in the living word.

Nusserwanji is a quiet man, not to be easily ruffled or rattled. Patience is an instinct with him. He has the simplicity of the man in Dostoevsky’s Brother’s Karamazov who used to ask the birds to forgive him.

He brought the human touch in the lessons; - it was always a lesson never a lecture. When Nusserwanji taught history facts were brought to life, the dry bones of history stirred, the ages began to masquerade. He conjured up before you the fog at Lutzen and the snow at Towton, the shower of rain that led to the American revolution, and the severe winter of 1788 that produced the famine of 1789 and thereby the French upheaval. You saw Brutus, the norm of republican virtue, extorting 48% interest from a wretched Cypriote community; you saw the lights burning low in the skies and the stage darkens in the middle ages; you heard the din of toppling thrones and the crashing of empires during the first world conflagration.

And never did his vision dim, his grasp weaken or his memory fail.

His learning does not consist merely in the stock of facts – the merit of a dictionary – but the discerning spirit, the power of appreciation and that of comparative criticism. Knowledge is to Nusserwanji the bread of life. He reads as if he were to live forever, even as if he were to die the next day. He inoculated his students with his own thirst for knowledge. He was a precision and a martinet in discipline. To him knowledge could no more be aquired without high seriousness than a symphony could be rendered upon the flute.

Punctuality was with him a passion. You could set your watch, correct to half a minute, by the time he came into the class. His private library was at the disposal of all his pupils, and so were his time and learning. There never was a man more generous in encouragement or gentler in reproach. By personal contact with him you not only learnt something, you became something. Contact with him moulded your character and taught you, in the most impressionable years of your life, to beware of ideas half-hatched and convictions reared by accidents. Only thoroughly good man could be so great a teacher as Nusserwanji indubitably was.

He was unerring in his acumen to scent the latent ability in a student. In that great tempest of terror which swept over France in 1973, a certain man who was every hour expecting to be led off to the guillotine, uttered this memorable sentiment:

“Even at this incomprehensible moment, when morality, enlightenment, love of country, all of them only make death at the prison door or on the scaffold more certain, - yes, on the fatal tumbril itself, with nothing free but my voice, I could still cry Take care to a child that should come too near to the wheel; perhaps I may save his life, perhaps he may one day save his country.” Nusserwanji had this large and inspiring belief in the potentialities of a Kid. He was personally and vitally interested in the progress and career of all his pupils.

Many other things could be related about Nusserwanji from the wide leaved book of memories. The associations of travel fade the incidents of life press so closely one upon another that each in turn is trampled under foot, but one’s associations with a teacher like Nusserwanji remain forever unchanged. He has now retired but the energy of his educational service remains. This soothing thought must have opened a larger meaning and a higher purpose to his daily work. His personal influence has not fallen silent. His pupils will long feel the presence of his character about them, making them ashamed of what is indolent or selfish and encouraging them to all disinterested labour both in trying to do good and in trying to find out what the good is.

Turgid Truth

"The great source of both the misery and disorders of human life, seems to arise from over-rating the difference between one permanent situation and another... some of these situations may, no doubt, deserve to be preferred to others, but none of them can deserve to be pursued with that passionate ardour which drives us to violate the rules either of prudence or of justice, or to corrupt the future tranquillity of our minds, either by shame from the remembrance of our own folly, or by remorse from the horror of our own injustice."

Adam Smith
"Turgid Truth", Theory of Moral Sentiments, 1759