When I was twelve years old, I was approached by a girl of the same age-bracket(I think so) one day. That day I happened to sing some Tagore songs on a stage, set on the verdant spread of Rajbari garden on the occasion of Tagore’s birth centenary celebrations.
When I sat on a chair, coming down from the stage, a girl, sitting next to me, praised me very much. I naturally felt elated. Then she asked me if I liked her. At first I could not understand the full import of her ask. I casually said, “Yes”. My reply was more in the nature of humouring the girl who lavished praises just moments back.
When the girl said “I love you, too“, I sensed what it all meant. I felt I blushed too much. I felt too, it had not gone unnoticed to her. As I stole a glance at her, I saw her blushing; a reciprocal innocence. This time I squinted at father. He was happy chatting away with Kolyan Kaku (to my great relief and comfort!).
I looked around. I saw a boy giving tea to each one present there. He had his shirt torn, his half pant tied to the shrinking waist by a string. He was carrying a slim, tall pile of earthen cups and a dark-stained kettle which seemed too big for his age and rickety physique.
“Can you love him?” I asked her point-blank. That took her so much by surprise that she was fumbling for words for a substantive time. Nevertheless she managed a reply, “No”. In tears she left me.
My grand-father (mother’s father) was used to taking his meal on a glossy kansha plate. If for some reason or the other, that plate was not given or replaced by a not-so-glossy kansha plate, he would retch out or had severe stomach pain ( though he was known for his voracious eating habit and lived long enough).
The problem with that girl and my grand-father is that of many of us. The way they live is through identification (a singing boy or glossy kansha plate for that matter). If that identification is gone, their mind becomes a mess, a mish-mash, a mis-match; mental diarrhea. Their life needs identification with identifier.
People take to drinks, medicines, gurus to bring their wayward mind back to submission. But things cannot work out that way.
It is only when you get dis-identified, your mind can be truly yours. That happens when you are involved, not entangled. For that to happen, you should learn to be a good, dispassionate observer of life, not a passionate participant.
Only then, you can be a master of your mind and end slavery to it.