I'm sorry

(This is an old piece of writing.)

In a small town, a sick man has come to see a prominent doctor to heal his ailment of the heart. There is no sickness greater than the sickness of the heart. This man has wealth, has fame, has a beautiful family. God has been generous to him in every way. Everyone who sees him thinks, “Ah! If only I could have such a life!” But you can’t know the heart’s secrets from the outside, so everyone thought he was a very happy man. The more sorrow someone can hide, the happier they appear to others. He was like that too—someone who looked supremely happy but was deeply, deeply unhappy. No one thinks that he too has a heart, that his stubborn heart sometimes falls into despair. How would those on the outside know what a terrible thing it is to have a heavy heart? Everyone expects him to lift their spirits. As if he was born solely to heal everyone’s hearts. He’s not allowed to have any moods of his own. He exists only to draw everyone close with a smiling face at all times. Everyone has accepted this as the natural order of life.

The man is telling the doctor, “Oh doctor, nothing brings me joy anymore. Please heal my heart! I would give up the entire world just to keep my heart a little well! Please save me! I too long to live with laughter and joy. Like others, I want only the smile of my heart to rest on my lips. I want to laugh with my whole being, not just with my mouth. When I smile, my eyes don’t smile; when my eyes smile, I don’t smile—I want freedom from this kind of laughter. Doctor, please make me well!”

The doctor listened to everything. He laughed and said, “What’s the big deal about this, friend? People’s hearts get heavy, don’t they? You’re in luck—tonight the famous clown Neel has come to our town to make us laugh, the same one who makes the whole country laugh. You know him, don’t you? This good man lifts the spirits of people across the nation. I’m closing my practice this evening just for him. What an extraordinary magician at healing hearts! I want to see Neel up close just once. So brother, are you free this evening? To lift your spirits, why don’t you come to the town hall at 7 PM tonight! So many people will come to laugh with open hearts! You come too! You’ll see, you’ll feel completely better.”

The man, holding onto the smile at the corner of his lips with great effort, said in a very low but firm voice, “I have no choice but to come. I am Neel.”

This too is a kind of life! Many people live this life—their own lives spent keeping others well. No one will ever ask after their hearts. That they’re alive at all is quite enough. The day they suddenly become “no more,” that’s when we’ll search for them. Why will we search? Because they were the ones who made our hearts feel good; meaning, for our own sake.

Let me share some personal reflections now. These past few months, several things have been happening that make it impossible to keep one’s spirits up. Father had a stroke. The gentle man became even gentler. How can one accept this? The doctor informed us that two bones in Mother’s spinal cord had shifted, preventing the nerves from functioning normally. The pain this was causing Mother—even watching it was unbearable. Those who haven’t experienced spondylitis, or haven’t witnessed it, cannot understand how severe the problem can become. The only treatment is surgery to install screws and bring the bones back to their proper position. At Apollo Hospital in Chennai, we learned that it wasn’t just 2 bones that had shifted—it was 11. The operation took place, Father had his health checkup done. Some blockages were found in Father’s heart. They were caught early, so 6 months of medication should cure it. That’s what the doctor said. My younger brother is handling everything alone. My aunt and cousin have been providing constant care to my parents in every possible way for the past month. We’re somewhat saved because they’re there. People reveal themselves in times of trouble. In this past month, no one else has really come to stand by us. Father has to make his own tea when he wakes up in the morning. Just the other day, the tea kettle fell from his hands and burned his foot. Many more such small incidents keep happening. Most of them don’t even reach my ears. Everyone hides so much from me. I don’t understand everything, but I understand some things. There’s no domestic help at home. Despite searching extensively, we can’t find anyone. About 5-6 days ago, Mother developed a high fever—102-103. I found out. Yet I didn’t go home. I went off to Dhaka, to Jashore; to career sessions, to show dreams. Thousands and thousands of people had been promised since 2 months ago—Sushanta will come. He’ll tell them stories of life. Hearing him speak will make everyone feel much better. ………….. This responsibility is a great responsibility. Whether one wants to or not, one must go. The pain at home cannot be spoken of outside. The pain of not being able to speak of it is an even greater pain. No one will ever know how Sushanta really is. They only want to know this much—how well Sushanta is keeping them, will keep them. …………… Mother is well now. No fever, but she’s become mentally distressed. Father grows quieter with each passing day. My younger brother’s former anger and resentment are no longer there. Managing studies along with everything else, he has become very quiet now. From washing dishes to—there’s no work that he doesn’t have to do. He handles everything inside the house and outside too. He makes less noise, doesn’t speak up as boldly as before. Our house is now a quiet house. I can only feel that quiet house from afar, unable to do anything for anyone. I no longer enjoy this job. I’m tired of letting life be defeated by livelihood. I ask forgiveness from the people I love most.

Let me say something about work. It’s not that I’m very well, that I’m at peace. I try to do everything right, yet somehow something goes wrong, somehow things just keep going wrong! Among my colleagues, there aren’t very many who like me. But I’m extremely fortunate that through work I’ve met some truly extraordinary people. They say colleagues don’t make good friends. But I’ve found many batch-mates, seniors, and junior colleagues whom I can trust like old friends or elder brothers. In civil service, I still haven’t fully adapted to the culture of wheeling, dealing, lobbying, and backbiting. I call white white. I truly don’t know what I should do to make everyone speak well of me. Or even if I knew, I can rarely do such things. Everyone thinks I’m doing a bit too well. So no one loves me that much. When someone appears to be “doing well,” no one loves them from the heart. When I smile it’s fake, when I cry it’s melodrama, when I stay quiet it’s pretension. Everything I do is wrong. How much longer can this continue? These days I live like a snail, withdrawn into my shell. When the department publishes magazines for special occasions, I don’t contribute any writing. “I can’t write like that, so why should you be able to?” “You can do it, I can’t; therefore you are guilty.” Such attitudes are eternal in human nature. If you can only do your job and nothing beyond that, it’s great news for your colleagues. Unless dragged by force, I no longer do presentations or write various things. In civil service, knowing how to maintain a low profile by hiding yourself is an art. Being first is a great injustice. Everyone will expect more from you, yet you’ll receive nothing extra in return. Extra responsibility without extra reward equals rebuke. I am never a good officer, so I ask for forgiveness.

Hundreds of messages arrive in my inbox daily. Followers’ messages pile up in thousands. Ninety-seven percent of them are messages seeking help or advice from me. I would truly be happy if I could remain as I was before. Not so many followers, not so many people’s demands, no expectations. I want to live as someone whose signature hasn’t yet become an autograph. I truly want that! Somehow I’m becoming selfish, little by little, every day. I’ve always wanted to live hating this selfishness. Now I can no longer do that. There was a time when whatever anyone wanted to know in my inbox, I would tell them very carefully, taking time. (Happily, many of them have gone to very good places, and some have even expressed gratitude to me.) Now I can no longer do that. I read the messages in my inbox and delete them. I can’t even read all the messages. Just think, if thousands of messages piled up in your inbox, how would you reply to them all amid your busyness? Truly speaking, even if I put aside all other work, it’s genuinely impossible. In my mobile phone’s inbox folder, there are 784 unread messages. I often think I’ll start reading the messages one by one. But it never happens. If all this is my fault, I ask forgiveness for that fault.

Many people request, “Please make me your friend.” Think about it—what would happen if you became my friend? Would you chat in the inbox? Would you read my posts? Would you share my writing? Would you tag me in your posts? Would you comment on my posts? All of that can be done anyway. I’ve made everything public. You have complete access to everything except posting on my wall. I have about four thousand nine hundred friends in my friend list. My great misfortune is that due to the limitations of my brain, I can keep track of at most 7 percent of them. I don’t even have time to see the posts of the rest. Like you, some people come into my life whom I feel very uncomfortable not keeping in my friend list. You can’t keep more than five thousand friends either. You tell me, what should I do? What would you do if you were in my place? What you want so much from your heart, I cannot do. Please forgive my inability. (This inability is Facebook’s too!)

Many people suggest
I should start a fan page. It’s very good advice. But I know I won’t have the time, energy, or enthusiasm to maintain it. Those who can do it are great. Not everyone can do everything—I’ve accepted this. Like many other things, I can’t do that either. Not reading good books, not watching good films—there was a time when these two things seemed sinful to me. Lately, something strange has happened to me. Now I can easily pass days without reading books or watching movies. This doesn’t suit me at all. My time is being stolen from me every moment. I’m even afraid to answer the phone now, fearing I might behave rudely out of exhaustion! The other day someone called asking which English grammar book to buy for learning pair of words. I thought, must I be asked even this? Does getting my mobile number mean permission to disturb me with any trivial matter? I felt very angry with them. In my anger, I said things I shouldn’t have. Later, thinking about it caused me great pain. I never had any natural ease with hurting others. Lately, I’m becoming accustomed even to that. How terribly painful it is to hurt someone! Yet I must, I’m compelled to. Just think—if in the gaps of your work, you had to give 30-40 people 2-3 minutes each on the phone every day purely for their needs, how long could you maintain your patience? For several days now I’ve been feeling unwell inside. The other day I collapsed twice from dizziness due to low blood pressure. Often when I sit to write, I feel severe headaches. Sometimes I feel so weak, I don’t even want to sign files. I live alone at home. I have to do washing clothes and other tedious chores myself. For quite some time, I’ve been going through various kinds of mental unrest. Lately this notion has taken hold in my mind—perhaps I won’t live much longer. I know nothing like that will probably happen. But a strange melancholy has possessed me. At some point in the day, I remain surrounded by sadness. I’m forgetting how to see the world around me as my old self used to. Even when it rains a little, I watch the rain as if seeing rain for the last time. Sometimes when the moon shines, I gaze at it as if it has risen for me for the last time. None of those around me know any of this. I know I’m gradually joining the ranks of the not-well. I need a health checkup. I can’t even find time for that. I was never like this before. Lately I can’t even find time to give to my own self. It pains me to think about it. To those who are reading this, and to many of their friends, I say—I haven’t been able to treat many of you well. I apologize for all my misconduct.

One of my very bad traits is that I’m quite short-tempered. Whatever I have to say, I say directly. I simply cannot take it well when someone meddles in my personal affairs. Let me share an experience. I’ve seen that among those who tell you that you’re small, there are two types of people. First: some point out your mistakes so that you can correct them. Second: some highlight your mistakes to belittle you and show that they are greater than you. I simply cannot tolerate the second type. You’ve surely noticed—some people comment on your posts purely to make personal attacks. Some comment with the intention of diminishing you. Some completely disrespect your thoughts and leap in with sword and shield to establish their own thoughts as grand. Some believe they’ll be comfortable if they can make you uncomfortable, and comment with this belief. Some make irrelevant comments to embarrass others. Some bother those who comment in various ways. Some comment to provoke with religious, political, or obscene matters. Some don’t exactly make nonsensical comments, but show silent support by liking such comments. Some take time to post various things on their own walls or elsewhere with the intention of belittling you. All this happens on my wall too. When I see such things, I can no longer keep my head straight. Either I give them a fitting reply, or I block them. My logic behind this is—not everyone will think the way I do. My thoughts annoy many people. When they see my posts on their timeline, they feel very angry or uncomfortable. Since my profile is public and therefore the posts are public, the best approach is to take some action myself to spare them from the torment of such unnecessary posts. So when I see someone like that, I immediately block them. Let them be well, and let those who like me and my writing be well too. I truly don’t want to bother anyone. My principle is: if I have something good to say about someone, I’ll say it; if not, I’ll remain completely silent. I wasn’t invited here to lecture anyone. No one understands less than others. However, considering the degree of relationship, one can say anything to anyone. I have not the slightest headache about anyone’s personal philosophy of life. I will never harm you while I’m alive, and I want you not to harm me. Live by your rules, I’ll live by mine. I don’t even have time to pontificate about your way of living. Live and let live. That’s it! I have no other philosophy for staying alive. And due to my great busyness, I can’t spare time to fight with everyone, nor do I have that mentality. So I block them. Have you ever noticed something funny? Facebook actually wants you to block as you please while using Facebook. How so? Well, let me explain. When I first started using Facebook, I would send friend requests to anyone I found. I would keep sending requests continuously by entering friends’ friend lists or looking at profiles. Facebook doesn’t allow sending requests continuously like this. So after sending requests to several people, Facebook wouldn’t let me send more. This means friend-making would have to be done with some calculation. Yet from my experience I know—you’ll never face such obstacles when blocking, no matter how many people you block continuously! The meaning is simple too: blocking can be done in unlimited style. To live, to let live, one must know how to exclude. However, there are a few things here. Many times I’ve blocked well-wishers too out of misunderstanding. Perhaps they said or did something from a positive thought, but its manner of expression was slightly wrong in my consideration, and I blocked them due to misunderstanding. I don’t know what’s in whose mind, who’s thinking what from which angle. Again, it also happens that perhaps someone inadvertently liked some post or comment that was (in my view) objectionable. This can happen by mistake on touchscreen phones too. It’s impossible for me to know anyone’s mind. So I’ve often blocked many people due to misunderstanding. I apologize for my unintentional mistakes.

I am fundamentally a very lonely person. Being alone in a crowd is more painful than being alone. I am a sorrowful resident of that land of suffering. I’ve seen from my experience that on Facebook, the more friends someone has, the more followers, the more posts, the more alone they are. One of my very bad aspects is that I can’t maintain much contact with people. I am a person with infinite talent for losing well-wishers. No one is more sorrowful than the person who forgets to love even the right person. Sometimes I even embrace the wrong person thinking them right. I create an impenetrable wall around myself and live with myself. My sphere of thought has always revolved in a very distinct way. I don’t really read much of anyone’s writing on Facebook. In that respect, many of my thoughts are solitary, hence error-prone and willful. Those who maintain contact with me, who continue to do so—this maintaining contact is entirely their own achievement and my good fortune. I strongly feel that at the time of my death, in the final moment, I won’t find anyone beside me. This has happened to many individuals in the world whose names many of us know. I forget to make contact, or don’t do it out of laziness. Those who know me know I’m so lazy that when someone has sent me a gift that I need to collect from the courier service office, to avoid this trouble I didn’t go there for days and the gift subsequently returned to the sender. It has even happened that someone, purely out of love, organized some work of mine and wanted to explain it to me, but I didn’t give them even that time. Later I don’t remember to maintain contact with many helpful friends. Many high-profile people wanted to stay in touch with me purely out of love for me, yet I withdrew. Often when I can’t receive calls from acquaintances at that moment, I don’t remember to call back later. Naturally, many are greatly annoyed with me for this indifference. I’m very fortunate to have received the love of many good people. Getting friends and well-wishers who like you completely selflessly is truly a matter of luck. To those who harbor irritation and hurt toward me for my detachment, I apologize.

I’m noticing 3 things quite often, and I feel like talking about them, so I will:

One. Whatever joys or sorrows solitude may bring, society and family have their rules: at some point, one must marry. Our society views those who have crossed thirty but remain unmarried through two different lenses. Unmarried men past thirty are regarded with suspicion, while unmarried women past thirty are viewed with sympathy. But few pause to consider that we who have not yet married, or have been unable to marry, are also social beings. Setting everything else aside, even for the family’s sake, we cannot remain unmarried forever. I’ve crossed thirty-one myself. Like everyone else, I’ve been wanting to get married for quite some time now, but somehow, God knows why, nothing’s working out. Lately I’ve noticed that no matter what kind of post I make, certain people seize upon it, drag it kicking and screaming toward marriage, and won’t let it rest. Many tactless souls leave quite awful comments too. The fact that I haven’t been able to marry yet is apparently unbearable to you all. For the infinite mental and physical anguish, pain, torment, and suffering you must endure because I remain unmarried, I apologize.

Two. There’s another class of people who simply cannot think of me as anything other than a BCS cadre/government employee. I’m sitting in a restaurant at ten at night, taking selfies and uploading them, and they ask, “When do you actually work?” If they had my job, would they give their lives to work at ten at night? And even if they did, what would anyone gain from such self-sacrifice—these are questions worth pondering. On weekends when I go somewhere for leisure, they immediately demand, “Does the government pay you to wander around? How can you travel while holding a job?” Let me say this humbly: after working five days a week, you take two days to rest and repair yourself, while my mental and physical stamina far exceeds yours, so I don’t need to spend those two weekend days sitting at home. Simple! Some cheerfully declare, “You’re on Facebook all day—you’re slacking off at work, you’re a slacker officer.” Brother, I fear for my job more than you do. I know what troubles await if I don’t keep transparency and accountability in mind. What worth do I have without this job! Without this position, I’d have no acceptability or recognition whatsoever. I understand all this, boss! What takes others two hours to accomplish, I can do in thirty minutes. My boss knows what I am. The government understands no less than you do. What great award will you win by researching all this, I wonder? You’d do better to ‘kiss your own wife.’ (Please read: ‘mind your own business.’) I can’t recall ever showing off about my job on Facebook, posting about work matters, or uploading photos from departmental events. I hope you won’t befriend or antagonize me based solely on my job. Don’t judge me by my profession. Compared to the vastness of civil service, my existence is so insignificant it might as well not exist. For your inability to see me as anything other than ‘Cadre Sushanta,’ I apologize.

Three. I have always followed, am following, and will follow one principle: as long as I live, I will never harm anyone. I used to think that if I never harmed anyone, why would anyone harm me? Now I understand that perhaps awakening unconscious envy in someone’s mind is also a form of ‘causing harm.’ From childhood until now, whenever I’ve encountered someone better than me, I’ve always tried to understand: “Why are they better than me? What must I do to achieve such excellence?” I’ve given everything I had to pursue those goals. But I’ve never felt even a trace of envy. Those consumed by envy gradually lose faith in their own abilities. Learning to tolerate others’ happiness is essential for one’s own happiness. I often think—the way I am now, I could have been in a far worse state. That God didn’t place me in such circumstances is no credit to me; it’s His infinite grace. Thank God. I’ve often watched helplessly as certain people in this society behave like scorpions. A scorpion knows only one thing: how to sting. But that’s not its fault—it simply can’t do anything else. That’s its only function. It has no capacity for anything else. I see no fault in that. Similarly, there are people who can do little of note beyond harming others. I try to avoid them. O scorpion-people! For my inability to embrace your company, I apologize.

I apologize! I apologize!! I apologize!!!