Nothingness is an attraction too !

Doing nothing. No getting up early to a deadline. No objective to get to, no particular motive in preparation, no particular desire to feed the body or saturate it with liquid, no indecisiveness on what to wear or how to look, no destination, nothing of value to say, not interested in speech or meet. Just to be. And allow the winds or the atmosphere to move you to wherever land…

Its an attraction by itself. Apart from the visit and time spent at the Hospital, it is much the same for me today. Inertia and idleness has brought in nothingness. The feet move voluntarily without any purpose or direction. The mind wanders aimlessly. Even as you participate in conversation and debate it is unclear what we are arguing about or speaking of.

Some days spent in this fashion are attractive. They were for me. And I do enjoy this nothingness.

The hospital gives better reports and the condition of the patient in the patients own words are encouraging and positive. God is kind and gracious and we pray that he remain so. It is odd this existence. For, during the last few days a new TV series is on play in the room - “GREY’S ANATOMY” , a compelling drama inside a Hospital in Seattle. The quality of the screen play, the performances by the actors, everything just so so attractive, despite the fact that the subject matter is mostly grim, is truly remarkable. Once you start it, there is no desire to put it off. A great compliment to the veracity of the serial. And yes for the moment, it has taken a preference from back seated ‘WEST WING’, which lies unattended on the rack, urging us by its silence to pay it some more attention.

The dexterity with which the story weaves its way into our hearts and minds. The authenticity of the surroundings and the atmosphere. The drama and the emotion drawing us into it, almost like participants, episode after episode, is a feat that must be lauded in the highest terms.

I pull out a few poems from my Father’s works and skim through the pages. A poem, a satire on Delhi attracts me. I had read it and heard it live from my Father years ago and was in desperate search of it. What reminded me of it were some of the news bulletins that I was able to catch here in Singapore. These were current affairs of what was transpiring in the country in year 2009, but the poem, this particular poem, was written in the mid 60’s and it amazed me how poets had the gift of predicting through written word, a vision of what could or may transpire in the future ! Poets were not just poets that rhymed words and expression. They had a definite philosophy and understanding of life with predictable correctness. They had the ability to see where we could not and feel what we were unable to. What then was that particular quality in them that at such early age, and most of the greats were young or wrote their best when they were, could consummately understand life and beyond with ease and put it to timeless verse !

As I glance through some more pages of my Father’s endless volume of work, I come upon a description he mentions in one of them. He refers to an Irish poet - his attraction to WB Yeats and Ireland, now well known - which states :

“The Kings are never more royal, than when abdicating !”

Profound. Simple. Deep. An assimilation of varied temperaments, not just for the subject per se, but for almost all other.

Yes, the subject and the vision of Kings in abdication bringing to us a finite definition, but in its mention, depicting to us more than just a mere example. The ‘King’ a symbol of regality, of power and rule, of position and standing, of one demanding servility. Of striding on conquered peak, of swaying masses, of being the pinnacle of success, of the ultimate receiver of admiration, of respect and honor. Of being the possessor of eternal youth, of the one with Midas touch, of ageless wonder and continued righteousness. This ‘King’ then in all his recognized splendor, when he abdicates, is never more royal !

‘Abdication’ - a desire or act executed with voluntary decision, to renounce one’s exalted position, has been an admired, nay, a most revered act, in the annals of not just history, but in life and in society. An act that has always touched the tenderness of human heart with great emotion. A quality admired almost sage like .

Many a’king’ has enjoyed the benefit of sympathy and devoted love through abdication; the renouncement of position and power becoming with immediate effect, a glorification. Many have done it with genuine resolve, many with calculative intent. Many have gained, many have lost in this their intended deed. Buddha and Mahatma Gandhi in their renouncement became the ultimate symbols of religiosity and iconic godlike following. Sacrifice has always been a step away from the divine.

The lives of great Saints is immersed in deep and sincere sacrifice.

But within the ethics and the divinity of sacrifice and renouncement, nature and the humans that it gave birth to, also brought with it, as in most occurrences, the evil to it as well. ‘Abdication’ became a face of self aggrandizement, of the propulsion of ‘I’, of gaining merit and recognition. Sometimes it worked to perfection, on others it did not. In Uttar Pradesh a famous tale of Emperor Akbar, the great Mughal ruler of the country still rates high in popularity.

Badshah Akbar, on wanting to ascertain the true nature of the common man in his kingdom, gave up his royal demeanor for a while, dressed as a commoner and stepped out into the streets. At every step that he stopped to enquire with his subjects unaware of his reality, how they were doing, he was invariably asked in return by them why and who he was to be conducting such inquiry. When informed to them that he was Badshah Akbar, they laughed and jeered and soon upon his continued act of posing as royalty, became the victim of the crowds violence. This was tolerated by Akbar for a while and then when he realised that it was not working, commanded his deputies also in disguise - and this is best enjoyed in Awadhi, the dialect of UP -

“Lagaao toh chhatari ! Ee aise na maani !

“Put up my durbar ! He is not going to believe otherwise !

(‘Chhatari’ is the word for an umbrella. Here in context, it is the regal canopy, the durbar)

Almost immediately the ‘durbar’of Akbar, with the elephants and horses and flag bearers and trumpeters carrying his throne was put up, upon which Akbar, in all regal splendor strode up and sat. And the man on the street bent down in awe and reverence !!

Watching Jacques Chirac, the President of the Republic of France, during my recent visit to Paris, sitting on adjoining table at a curbside restaurant for lunch and not attracting even a glance of recognition, reminded me of the Akbar story. As President of one of the most powerful nations of the world, his movement and every step was monitored and announced. The sirens and police detail preceding his appearance, the streets being cautioned of his arrival, police and security protection all around, flag waving limousines swishing by at great speed, pilot motor bikes in attendance, the build up and anticipation and then, the President appears out of his vehicle surrounded by his personal close security. You cannot but ignore such activity. You stop and look at the pageantry and protocol filled with admiration.

But without the title, just an ordinary common man sitting much like others enjoying a salad at an eatery !!

Acquisition of glory, fame, position and title could come by inheritance, could come by hard labor and perseverance. Could come by tolerating and accepting great pain and effort. By blood and sweat and tears. In its renouncement however, if there were to be similar pain and and perseverance and hard labor, it would rob the ‘royal nature of its abdication’.

How many of us that acquire, ever think of giving up. Not for the glory of sympathy or royal abdication, but for the calmness of the act and its subsequent deliverance ?

In awe, in wonder, in servility, to those that give me the grace of position… and affection !

Amitabh Bachchan