Back in class four, I told Tina, “I love you. I want to marry you.” (If memory serves, the evening before, a BTV drama at quarter to nine had featured the hero saying precisely this to the heroine. Upon hearing it, the heroine was overwhelmed with joy, rested her head on the hero’s chest, and wept. I was so taken by that scene that the very next day in class, I performed the hero’s role with flawless precision opposite the girl I adored.) In response to my declaration of love, Tina beat me soundly in front of everyone with a wooden scale. As she thrashed me, she kept saying, “Where does this rude boy come from! Tell me, will you ever love again, tell me?” And as a bonus, her friend delivered two solid punches to my ribs. Another sturdy friend of hers yanked my shirt up and pulled at my trousers with such determination to tear them off that I was entirely preoccupied with preserving my ancestral honor by holding my pants in place. So busy was I with this task that I barely registered what Tina was saying while shaking me by the collar. And watching my pitiful state, the entire class erupted into such laughter that it seemed like a picnic had broken out in the classroom that day. Even now, that sound of mockery echoes in my ears. At that tender age, I grasped a fundamental truth: one must never tell a girl that you love her. If you do, you’ll get beaten, scolded, and might even suffer indignity! Their instantaneous reaction etched itself into my mind: outside of films and dramas, no one rests her head on your chest when you love her—she tries to tear your pants off instead. A horrifying prospect! Therefore, love is hereby renounced for life! Loving a tree is far preferable to loving any girl. And in exchange, whether or not I receive love, at least my honor remains intact!
What was your ancestor two thousand generations back like? That forebear of yours was some fifteen hundred years older than Jesus Christ himself. He lived as a member of some small, primitive community. And belonging to a community meant one thing: he had some assurance, at least, of food and shelter. Yet he had to constantly keep the other members of his group in good humor. Because if the others came to dislike him for any reason, or decided he was not worth keeping around, it would be catastrophic. He would either be cast out from the group, or death at the hands of his own people would be inevitable. Should your distant ancestor fall in love with some girl in the tribe, and she reject him, spreading word to the other women, then perhaps that poor soul would never know a woman’s love again. Such was the law. You could not afford rejection; you had to do only things that would please everyone, make everyone speak well of you. In short, the order of those times was perpetual appeasement. Keeping this rule in mind, humanity slowly increased its age, building civilization upon civilization. And what beliefs did our ancestors carry with them through all those ages? That one must never think, speak, or do anything that others might take offense to. That one must endure every kind of treatment and reaction—justified or not—from society, simply to survive within it. That keeping ten people around you content was the measure of living well. Whatever civilizations rose and fell, we have remained blindly, equally loyal to our venerable ancestor of fifty-two thousand, seventeen years. Here we are in the year 2017, still clinging with utmost care to the social customs of fifty thousand years before Christ. And this enslavement to convention—we call it “being acceptable” in society.
You’re heading somewhere. Before you leave, you try on six different outfits, examining yourself in the mirror each time—and yet you can’t seem to decide which one suits you best. Suits you, meaning others will see you and praise your taste, will judge you as someone of refinement and style. Even when we dress, we dress for the approval of others! So what distinguishes us anymore from our ancestors of two thousand generations past? If you sit alone at a restaurant, go to a movie theater by yourself, walk through the park eating roasted peanuts from a paper cone with no one but yourself for company—what will people think? If you allow your own child to study literature, their passion, instead of forcing them to become a doctor, what will society say? Your reputation will be in tatters! Prestige will be punctured!
And yet, the definition of prestige and the definition of a punctured prestige—both are society’s invention. How will society ever know what your life is truly like? If you let slip that golden opportunity to become a BCS cadre and choose business instead, “wasting your life away,” what will people say? Society has constructed a fence called “marriageable age.” Whether you possess the means or the desire to marry matters not at all; whether you actually like the person you’re marrying is irrelevant—none of this counts for anything. If you fail to be caught in that web of illusion at the “right time,” how will you ever show your face in society? So you go through with it all anyway.
And then what? Freedom? Have you finally got that passport to breathe as your heart desires, to take in the open air on your own terms? Not at all. What comes next is a whole new cycle of torment. To silently accept all of that—this is what society calls “being acceptable.”
Whether our mood is good or bad—we must smile and post selfies on Facebook! If we go out with friends, we must announce it to everyone on Facebook—even if we regret it bitterly afterward! We went to a restaurant, but nobody found out? Then what was the point of going to that restaurant at all? Who knows if people would have stopped eating if Facebook didn’t exist? I cannot pursue my own dreams; instead, I must chase a job, because whatever my dreams might be, my job is someone else’s dream, something they admire, something they depend upon. I could do work that would sustain myself and my family comfortably, but I cannot do it, because society perhaps doesn’t consider it sufficiently “prestigious.” Let life rot in hell—compromising away, we must still live according to the tastes of ten people in society. What we truly like, we are not allowed to like; we come to like only what everyone believes we ought to like.
We have become modern on the surface, but deep within, we are still lounging in 50,000 BCE. We are becoming far less human than we are becoming puppets. Like puppets, we dance ceaselessly at the beck and call of our parents, relatives, friends, or society’s powers-that-be. They decide how we should move, and we perform exactly as they wish. Sometimes we follow people we don’t even know—perhaps some great celebrity, some role model to many. I don’t even know if following them will benefit me, yet I follow on, because I have grown accustomed to living blind.
Whenever we do anything, we are gripped by fear—what if someone calls me mad! We never remember—today’s madman was yesterday’s king! Who in this world has achieved anything without being mad? Our opinions are not truly our own. We have learned to think and act with the intention of pleasing someone or other; whether we ourselves are content or discontent hardly matters. In making room for everyone else, there is no room left for us in our own lives. Our home is inhabited by the entire world except us. Our house, our door—and we live outside. What irony!
Yet truly, no one knows better than the inner ‘I’ within us what we actually want, what brings us joy, how we might live with fewer regrets. How much money would suffice for me, what kind of family do I desire, what sort of people do I wish to be around, what work brings me pleasure, what leaves me cold, where lies my deepest interest, what can I do better than anyone else—answers to all these questions live only within that inner ‘I’. We do not listen to it. Instead, we listen to the world entire, and so living with contentment becomes impossible. Whatever anyone says about how my life should unfold, however they might judge it, that inner ‘I’ somehow—mysteriously—knows what will serve me, which path will leave me with fewer regrets. To live well in this life, we must heed the good counsel of that inner voice. We may listen to everyone, yes, but we must accept only what our heart tells us to accept. Yet there is a condition: we must come to know ourselves deeply and truly. We must understand what we are, how far our reach extends, what we truly want, why we want it, and in what manner. We must take care that the dawn of our own dreams does not cast the shadow of another’s nightmare. Those who understand these things the least depend most heavily on others’ opinions when making decisions, dragging their lives forward believing all the while that they are living splendidly—while the praise or blame of others becomes the sole arbiter of their happiness or sorrow.
Some live by hanging on every word, every opinion of everyone around them. Some live recklessly, caring for no one but themselves. Most of us occupy the middle ground between these two extremes. That inner ‘I’ within us listens silently to everyone’s words, accepts and follows only as much of that counsel as is needed to keep no one displeased with us. The question now becomes: how might we navigate all of this thoughtfully and still remain well? I share here my own reflections on this:
First, then. We must begin by asking ourselves: what do we truly want? We spend time with so many people. Have we ever paused to consider whose company brings us the greatest joy? How do we most love to spend our moments of leisure? Is there something we pour our money and time into regularly, yet which brings us no real pleasure? How do we regard our jobs and our relationship status? What do we think about politics—or do we think about it at all? What are the things we pretend to care about, to think about, for the sake of appearances, when in truth they mean nothing to us? What thoughts do we harbor in secret, things we dare not voice aloud because they would upset people, or invite their scorn and judgment? All of this—all of it—is a way of searching for yourself, of rediscovering who you are. It demands time, real time. Perhaps what we are doing now is not what we wish to do, because we could be doing something better, or something we truly desire. Without attempting to know yourself, there is no possibility of changing your present condition, none at all.
Second, then. Most often, we do not even recognize that ‘something’ is controlling us. There is a simple way to identify that ‘something’: ask yourself—what is it that frightens me? What causes me embarrassment or shame? What part of my life do I never allow others to see, what do I always guard with careful secrecy? In what areas does the fear of failure pursue me most relentlessly? What is it that I do quite well, yet am afraid to do openly? If I were given the chance to change any one part of my life as I wish, which part would I choose? Why that part? How would I think about transforming it?
There is another way to recognize that ‘something’. How? Everyone around us tells us that we are well, that we are fine, and so we believe we are well and fine. If you are someone who thinks this way, ask yourself these questions: In your job, your business, your relationships—must you always be on guard? Are you doing the things your parents want you to do, things you yourself have no desire to do, merely to keep them content? Are you chasing after everything society deems a ‘status symbol’? Who has set the standards by which we measure a good life? Are we nursing more pride than we ought to, more than is warranted?
Now I come to the last way of knowing ‘something.’ Whenever we are about to make a decision, we pause and wonder: if I make this choice, will everyone else approve of it? Whether the decision is right or wrong matters less than this—if ten people around me say it’s good, I embrace it; if ten people say it’s bad, I reject it. Let us ask ourselves whether we truly live this way: Do I support an opinion simply because someone else supports it? When I introduce the person I love to my family, does their warm acceptance deepen my love, and does their rejection diminish it? Is there someone in my life whose words I follow like a puppet, blindly dancing to their tune? If so, why? What makes them so special that I must obey their every word?
Third, we must determine which areas of life we will navigate by our own judgment, unswayed by anyone’s opinions or preferences. It is true that we cannot simply upend every aspect of our existence and live entirely as we please—the habits and beliefs of a lifetime do not shed so easily. Yet we can narrow the field. There are certain decisions in life whose consequences, if determined by someone else’s opinion, can leave us regretting for the rest of our days. Consider: whom you marry, which profession you pursue, how you raise your children—in such deeply personal matters, it is better to follow what feels right to your own heart. Even if your own judgment leads you astray, the sorrow is less acute than if you had made that same mistake by another’s counsel. When we err by our own wisdom, we muster the strength to recover; when we err by another’s, we lack that same resolve, for we can far too easily forgive ourselves for a mistake that was never truly ours to begin with.
Fourth, let us reflect on those preoccupations and convictions about what others think—thoughts that rob us of ourselves and prevent us from simply being who we are.
1. We assume that everyone around us sits with bated breath, waiting to judge what we do, why we do it, and how we do it. But is that truly the case? Have people so little to occupy their minds that they must spend it all thinking about us? Or have I become so remarkable that people cannot help but think of me? The truth is far simpler: no one has the time to think about you at all.
2. I’ve been thinking—if I try hard enough, perhaps I can keep everyone happy! Yes, I’m thinking straight on this one. My ancestor fifty thousand generations back managed it, so why shouldn’t I? But have I stopped to consider that back then, a tribe might have had only forty members, and pleasing them was hardly an impossible task? In today’s world, no matter how flawlessly I execute my work, there will always be a faction that finds no good in it whatsoever. So if I strain myself to please a group whose values I actually despise, that’s nothing but deceiving myself. The moment I squeeze myself into their camp, my kindred spirits may be gathering elsewhere, and without realizing it, I’m drifting away from them of my own accord.
3. Look at it closely. Of those who dislike me, who dismiss my choices, who speak nonsense about me—99.7% of them are people with whom my life shares nothing in common. If that’s the case, what does it matter whether I heed them or not? What bearing will it have on my future? I won’t be walking that road alongside them anyway. So why am I foolishly charting my course by the contours of their thinking?
4. There exist people incapable of accomplishing anything themselves, yet forever preoccupied with criticizing others. Such people befriend those of their ilk; their loves too are affairs with similarly purposeless creatures—those who, the moment they gather, begin maligning someone absent from the room. An idle person invariably falls in love with another idle person. I have witnessed countless such pairs in my life who settle into their own comfortable mediocrity while poisoning those around them. They are typically envious folk who cannot bear to witness another’s good fortune, for they lack the capacity to create it themselves. He who cannot make anything becomes the connoisseur of others’ making. Whether a creation is good or bad hardly matters; what matters is that when someone speaks of it—someone who has only learned to speak rubbish in life—they will speak rubbish about it. Praise or blame from such a person carries no weight, because truthfully, they lack the intelligence to help or harm anyone. To be swayed by their words into any decision would be pure folly.
5. What of those who love us, who have had a hand in bringing us to where we are now—what when they grow disappointed or vexed with our work? Such thoughts visit us often enough. But truly, those who love us will hardly take offense at deeds that make us flourish. And if they do, it is surely because some fear or anxiety stirs within them: what will others think if we do this? Yet since the opinions of strangers warrant so little weight, there is no reason for us to abandon our resolve. In truth, the handful of souls who will stand beside us even in the darkest hour are so few we can count them on our fingers. To live, then, is not to concern ourselves with everyone’s every word. There is simply no point to it.
Fifth. The fear that haunts us—”what will people say?”—carries far less weight than the force of the true self within. Why? Because what the heart genuinely wishes to do, we do precisely because it brings us joy. What we must do to please others is no pleasure at all; it is tiresome, exhausting. Do what your heart calls you to do, and you shall be well. We alone know which deeds will bring color to our lives—knowledge no one else in all the world can claim. Should we fashion our lives by listening to another’s voice, we risk squandering whatever hues remain. Why court such danger? Humanity honors those who can do something they love, who through patient dedication excel at it as none other can, simply because they love it most. If we let others dictate our path, such honor will never be ours.
Sixth. What gain comes from absorbing what others think, what they say, what they desire? At day’s end, I must still live with myself as I am. To be the “I” of my own world, however small and humble it may be, is far nobler than to be the “I” of another’s. My small world has sheltered me faithfully all these years with unwavering loyalty. To be true to one’s own heart demands courage, competence, faith in oneself. And here is the truth we rarely acknowledge: most of what we fear enough to avoid doing rarely bears the weight we imagine it does—or if it does exist, it is far less dreadful than we suppose. We must move forward on the strength of our own thought and our own dreams. And if in doing so we must change—our habits, our outlook, our way of working—then change we must.
The more you shape your life to align with the thoughts of others, the more thoroughly you become enslaved to their thinking. Everyone wants to hear good things about themselves from others’ lips, true enough, but what is its real weight? Many people will speak well of you simply to serve their own interests, then turn on you the moment those interests are satisfied. Accept praise with grace, but do not accept the one who praises you along with it. More often than not, the first knife in your back comes from the one who praised you—because through all that praise, they have wormed their way into your trust. And even if you reject the praise entirely, nothing much changes in your life. What others think of you brings no transformation to who you are; you remain as you were. Whether you are well or poorly, the critics gain nothing. Whether you prosper or suffer, the critics gain nothing. They do not judge you by your actual circumstances or the truth of what has occurred; they judge you by the judgment that pleases them, that keeps them comfortable. Why measure yourself by their words? They often dance to stories they have never even heard properly. Look closely at what they’re dancing to—how well do they truly understand it? Only you know what you actually are. Others can at best offer opinions, conjectures born of assumption. What is right for them comes from their own life’s experience; that same rightness may have no bearing on your life at all. Many people cannot achieve their own dreams, so they assume you cannot achieve yours either. Their capacities are limited, so they assume yours are too. There is no sense in abandoning your own path because of their commentary.
When someone tells you to invest in a certain stock, you must think carefully about whether such an investment actually makes sense for you. Because if that stock investment brings you loss, that person will not be there to bear the weight of that loss with you. You may find many who wish to claim themselves as partners in your good fortune, but you alone are the sole partner and architect of all your misfortunes. No one will share the burden of your adversity. This holds true for every decision you make in life. As time passes, people’s thoughts shift with circumstance. The person who worships you today will not hesitate to toss you in the dustbin tomorrow—it will take them barely two minutes. Someone whose thinking changes this way, whose judgment is this unstable—why take them seriously at all? Think about it: the person whose words are causing you such suffering now—will you even see them a year from now? And yet, if you follow their counsel, you might be suffering for the next ten years. The more you care for the wrong people, the more wrong people will push their way into your life. Why deliberately pile misery upon yourself?
How can you tell if you are deeply anxious about what others are thinking of you? What kinds of troubles might you face in such a state? Let me share some personal observations:
1. Among life’s most vital lessons is learning to say ‘no.’ Those who dwell too much on what others will think cannot refuse easily — no matter the cost to themselves.
2. The moment you begin granting everyone access to your life, they will assume they have the right to comment on anything and everything within it.
3. The more curious you become about what someone said of you, and where they said it, the more you will have to endure people’s petty, peculiar, and hostile thoughts about you.
4. Here is a hard truth: your personal suffering and emotions hold no currency for anyone. Accept this. There is no greater folly than marketing your pain. Do not weep before others. Once they see your tears, they will instantly know which wounds cut deepest, which moments unmake you. Some will grow irritated at the sight; others will circle, eager to exploit your vulnerability. The more you broadcast your anguish, the more you invite unwanted interference into your affairs.
5. When you stop asking whether you are hurt or happy, and instead fixate on whether others are content, you invite a permanent state of regret, unease, and discord within yourself. No one on earth can please everyone—it is simply impossible.
6. If you forever crave the attention of those around you, your work and your thinking will become entirely centered on others. Your work will suffer. Such attention-seekers can never know peace. Life is worth far more than likes.
7. You will find yourself perpetually paralyzed by indecision. When you base your choices on what others will say, hesitation becomes inevitable.
8. If another’s judgment steers your life, your confidence will gradually erode. You will come to believe that any method someone else suggests must be superior to your own.
9. You will catch yourself avoiding words that might wound, avoiding acts that might displease. You will cage yourself within narrower and narrower bounds. Eventually, both your will to act and your capacity to act will wither.
10. You will begin to fancy yourself cleverer than others. You will want everyone to hear what you say, to witness what you do, to applaud your every move. You will hunger for their praise. Pursue this path, and you will descend into despair and self-contempt. To live as a slave to others’ approval is a kind of living death.
How much does anyone’s opinion truly matter? Precisely as much as you choose to accept it. If a stranger comes and says anything to you, you won’t lose sleep over it—naturally, you’re far more inclined to concern yourself with pleasing a friend, a loved one, someone from your own circle.
Listen to differing views, honor them, take in what aligns with your own life—but don’t let it unsettle you. What people say about you, why they say it: all of this lies completely beyond your control. But how much you accept or reject—that remains entirely in your hands. The more people you discuss your thoughts and actions with, the more contrary opinions you’ll encounter. Listen to everyone, then do what your conscience, reason, and intuition tell you to do. If you chase the approval of all, you’ll have to swallow every opinion, forever reshaping your decisions. Perhaps that advice suits their life; you’re living your own. Why would you adopt what works for them into your existence? Each person’s experience, each person’s worldview—these are singular and distinct.
There’s something peculiarly sweet, almost honeyed, about the problem of “what will people say.” How so? Most times when we conjure this specter—what will people think?—the actual truth is far simpler: people won’t say a thing. They have their own lives to manage. I am not so singular that the thought of me keeps them awake at night. I cannot read another’s mind; therefore, all my fears about what might arise in theirs, all their birth and growth, spring from nowhere but my own inner world. Besides, how others perceive you is their affair, not yours.
You’ll notice people comment on you—people you’ve never even met, who don’t know you at all. If someone judges you without knowing you, without understanding the full picture, that person hardly deserves to be taken seriously. Why elevate them by granting their words weight? The one who speaks without the whole truth doesn’t deserve our attention. So what if society places them in some high station, if people accord them respect? What does that have to do with you? To you, they are simply trivial—that alone is their only identity.
Always keep company with those who see your flaws alongside your virtues. Those who see only what is wrong in you, who obstruct you with words and deeds whenever you attempt something good—keep them out of your life. If needed, step away from theirs yourself. Let them be well in their own way. Wish them well, and keep yourself well. When someone tries to hold you back from doing something, pause and ask yourself: am I attempting something they too desire, but cannot do because of their own limitations? Am I receiving recognition from certain people that they, despite great effort, cannot obtain? If so, then their obstruction is natural—it is their desperation showing itself. Show the world who you truly are. When you share information on social media, when you post anything at all, either share something that requires no truth to be hidden—partial or complete—or refrain from sharing it altogether. If you move forward with frank honesty, if you speak no falsehood, if you possess the moral courage to call white white and black black, then you need not concern yourself overmuch with what others say. The most successful people in every field of life never pay heed to others or to critics. They understand well: critics have all the time in the world to criticize precisely because they could not succeed themselves.
If someone neither feeds you nor clothes you, and if heeding their words is not essential to your livelihood or business, then why must you live your life according to their judgment? Whether you thrive or suffer, it will be by your own merit or your own misfortune. Why, then, should you listen to anyone else? Only you know what inspires you, what makes you feel alive, what kindles your will to act. If another judges you, it is merely an assumption—a guess masquerading as opinion. Keep your desires written in your heart. To attain them, set down in a notebook what you must do, how you must do it, and why. Then act accordingly. If you truly do this, rest assured you are on the right path. What does it matter what others say? In fact, if you give weight to everyone’s words, you may drift far from your goal. There is only one person in this world who can keep you happy, and that person is you. No one else can make you happy. Without your own will, there is no force in the world that can sustain your well-being. The more you place the responsibility for your own welfare in others’ hands, the more you make your life’s decisions dependent on others, the more you will languish—a slave to the whims and wishes of everyone around you.
The standard of your living—how you conduct yourself, what you value, what you can afford—these are yours alone to determine. What others think is truly irrelevant here. An entire ocean of water cannot sink a simple ship unless the water finds its way inside the vessel. In precisely the same way, all the negative thoughts and opinions in the world cannot influence your thinking or your actions unless you yourself let them in. Our daily lives already burden us with enough weight to carry. If on top of that we gather the thoughts and opinions of others and load ourselves down further, life itself becomes a struggle. The art of moving through the world without carrying other people’s heads and faces upon your own shoulders—that is a mastery worth possessing. Once you have truly learned this art, you will see your entire world transform. The truth is simple: no one really cares what you do or don’t do. They merely judge. Everywhere you go, there are people who themselves have no clarity about their own lives, yet they burn with enthusiasm to scrutinize yours. Why give them a moment’s consideration? The weight that others’ opinions carry in your well-being or suffering is precisely as much as you allow it to carry—no more, no less. The more you concern yourself with what others think, the more your natural life and work will be hindered. People have a nature: they speak without knowing when to speak, where to speak, to whom to speak, or how to speak. Something flits through their mind, they feel the urge to say it, and they blurt it out—and in that small act of speaking, they find great satisfaction. If you build your life around everything people say, you will never live a sound, natural life.
Yes, we must lend an ear to what people say about us. But only to the extent that it does not diminish our individuality, shatter our confidence, or disturb our peace of mind. Let me introduce you to Hasan.
Hasan dreamed of becoming a singer. He had a gift for it too—a truly fine voice—but the thought of what people would say if he spent his life pursuing music made him abandon his passion early. He stepped into the family business instead, and then spent twenty-two more springs regretting that choice. His regret is singular and consuming: *Ah, what a voice I had! If only I had devoted these twenty-two years to music, I could have become a celebrated singer by now! I’ve accomplished nothing in life.* And yet, by this time, Hasan has become quite a successful businessman. But that unrealized dream haunts him so relentlessly that no matter what else he accomplishes, he cannot shake the conviction that he has achieved nothing at all.
Those who cannot pursue their true calling spend their entire lives under this shadow. If someone longed to be a university professor but never became one, you could place the whole world in the palm of their hand and they would still believe they gained nothing in life. Hasan need not have abandoned music altogether. He could have scaled back his business slightly and kept his art alive. Perhaps the business would have remained smaller, but then he would not have had to live with this gnawing regret, would not have felt his life to be a wasteful squandering. What harm would come from reducing the size of one’s business or career a little and expanding one’s life a little in return? The arithmetic of it all would still yield a gain.
But Hasan is consumed by what people might say when they see him, what they might think about him, what they might whisper when he walks past on the street, whether they might pass some cutting remark about his clothes. These thoughts matter tremendously to him. Yet he knows—truly knows—that people are doing none of these things. Still, the anxiety gnaws at him constantly. Hasan does not yet know what would satisfy him. He harbors a deep wish to move to Canada with his wife and children and start a small business there. He has enough money to do it. But for some reason, he cannot. The children are grown now, and he is no longer young enough to uproot himself lightly. Starting over at such a stage—what will people think? But which people? Hasan himself cannot say. He only knows that *someone* will think *something*. Hasan has somehow convinced himself that he alone appreciates what he likes. Everyone else’s tastes differ from his. They all dislike him and his choices. Is such a thing even possible? Surely some will accept him. Some will see him and say, “No, it’s fine, it works!” Some will say, “Why is Hasan like that?” Some will say, “Bah! What an irritating and tedious fellow!” That is perfectly reasonable. Why should everyone approve of Hasan? But for some reason, Hasan cannot accept this truth. Unable to accept it, whether people speak about him or not, he is perpetually seized by the conviction that everyone is discussing him in the worst possible light. The tiger of the forest may come or may not come, but the tiger of his own mind keeps Hasan perpetually restless and afraid.
If we truly knew how rarely others think about us, we would not spend our lives so consumed by the anxiety of “what will they think?” Let me speak from my own experience. In my early days, when I spoke before large audiences, my mind was filled only with such questions: Am I standing properly? Is anyone laughing at me? Are my words so tedious that someone might fall asleep right here? Is there a stiffness in my speech? Is my dress appropriate? (I would often worry that my zipper had come undone. I’d check it before taking the stage, yet still the fear would return—what if by some invisible magic it opened while I was speaking?) I desperately wanted every word I uttered to be liked. Whatever I said, I wanted people to like it! Can you imagine how I used to think back then? Now such thoughts no longer visit me. I know I must speak certain things. I also know that whatever I say, however I say it, people will like it—because I will not say anything they would dislike. Perhaps I know that everything I am saying is rubbish, that people listening to me are thoroughly bored, that I am speaking so poorly I should stop at once and leave the stage. Yet still I speak on and on, because I know that every worry flooding through my mind is unfounded. I have complete control over what I say, how I say it, and how much I say. Whether my audience personally likes me or not, they are liking my message, and they continue to listen *because* they like it. This confidence is essential. It deepens respect—both for oneself and for one’s audience. Once I stood before fifty-five hundred people and spoke for six or seven hours. Many stood the entire time, unable to find seats. I knew that no one was mocking me, no one was bored, I was not wasting anyone’s time. If someone had objected to my speech, surely they would not have endured my talk for so long. So where lies the problem in my speaking? And if someone objects yet continues listening, then they are surely a fool. There is no sense wasting thought on the foolish.
What you actually are and what you appear to be—these are two entirely different matters. When people comment on you based on what they see, they’re speaking from whatever impression of you has taken shape in their mind. You know, of course, what you truly are; what they think about you is their concern, not yours. Why should it trouble you? No one has appointed you the grand custodian of their opinions, have they? Let them think as they will! If it brings them a measure of peace, where’s the harm? You believe that when you think or speak of others, you see their virtues; yet when others speak or think of you, you imagine they see only your flaws. Do you know why you feel this way? Because you believe yourself superior to them. Gripped by this conviction, you construct ideas about others in the privacy of your mind—ideas that bear no resemblance to truth. Not everyone in the world despises you, thinks ill of you, or speaks poorly of you. It is the phantoms of your own anxiety that are destroying you. A tiger is fearsome enough as nature made it; why gild it further with the colors of imagination? What extra gain comes from that?
Charles Darwin was so deeply troubled by his theory of evolution that he couldn’t decide whether it ought to be published at all. Yet the urge to preserve his creation proved stronger than his disquiet—and that is why we know of Darwin’s theory today. If Bill Gates had spent his time fretting over what people would think when they learned he’d devoted his life to computers, when hardly anyone understood them, he would never have become Bill Gates. Instead, he’d be sitting here, exhausted, scratching out this tedious essay just to steal a few moments of your time! “What do you do?” “I compose music.” Is that a respectable career to speak of? Had Beethoven reasoned thus, he might have secured a decent salary, but he would never have achieved greatness. Somewhere, someone is waiting with open mouth to despise your finest work. But are you responsible for that? Did you ever promise that person a wage to criticize you? There’s work to do, so pop the corn! Yet the poor soul unemployed for lack of work—how will he buy the paddy needed to pop corn? Lacking the money, the wretch can’t even pop a kernel. What choice remains? In the anguish of his heart, he begins to expose your entire lineage to the light. This task, if you wished, you could not perform. For to expose someone’s entire lineage, you’d first have to investigate it thoroughly. Where would you find the time? You are not idle. Some people are unemployed because they have no job; some are unemployed because they have one. Strange indeed are the ways of human nature!
Believe it or not, none of us are so extraordinary that others will spend much time thinking about us. A smartphone is always within arm’s reach, ready to kill time—what makes us more interesting than that? Science claims that over 50,000 thoughts run through a person’s mind every day. This means if someone thinks about us ten times a day, that’s merely 0.02% of their total daily thoughts. Nearly everyone lives in a world where ego reigns supreme on all sides. In that kingdom dwells only the self—I, mine, to me. Where, then, do you exist in that realm? Unless you do something personally compelling enough to move someone, no one sits around waiting to spare time thinking about you. When an audience applauds after a song ends, how many of them clap because they truly enjoyed it? Most clap simply because everyone is clapping. Everyone else is clapping—won’t it look bad if they don’t? And since everyone is clapping anyway, the song must surely have been worth applause! People’s own opinions are usually borrowed opinions.
The same person reacts differently to the same event under different circumstances. Is such a reaction worth two pence? Ask someone to judge an event and watch what they do. They look around to see how everyone else is perceiving it. Then they consider how interpreting it that way will earn them praise, or make their opinion popular. Most people have no genuine opinions of their own. So there is little reason to heed their words or ideas. Whatever you believe, whatever you think is right—present it honestly and remain firm in it till the end. You will see that those who spread gossip about you behind your back will one day begin to respect you. And even if they don’t, it matters not. One who is loved by a few genuine people—family and true friends—is far more fortunate than one loved by all. Spend good time thinking carefully: who stood by you, or will stand by you, in your time of need? When calamity strikes, you will realize you have wasted money, time, and thought on the wrong people all these years, mistaking them for the right ones. In your moment of crisis, only a handful—perhaps just one or two—will genuinely stand beside you, no matter how dire your circumstances. These few are the only voices worth heeding on life’s journey. Beyond them, no one else will truly matter in your life. Listen to all others with a smile through one ear and let it exit through the other with a hearty laugh.
Try this: write down the things you dislike, the matters that make you uncomfortable. Say you shudder at the very thought of bathing in ice-cold water on a winter morning. Write it down: “Cold water baths.” Done? Now step into that bathroom, stand under the shower, and let the cold pour down. Do it once. Do it twice. Do it three times. Then watch—slowly, your fear begins to dissolve. Fear is only as fearsome as we believe it to be. Learn to conquer fear and discomfort. Pull yourself out of your comfort zone, and you will see that people’s harsh words cannot divert you from your path. Planning a trip somewhere? If you have acquaintances there, there is no need to gather them with great fanfare. Wander about on your own terms, by your own wit. Pay for your own lunch and dinner with your own money, spend from your own pocket. You will find that fewer people lord over your life—or if they try, you simply pay them no mind.
A person raised with as much tenderness as they received in childhood often tries to give equal tenderness to everyone around them. But therein lies the real trouble: attempting to hold everyone in equal regard. How much weight one person’s words carry depends fundamentally on the nature of the relationship between them. Whose opinions should matter? Besides your spouse, parents, children, and truly close friends, I believe three kinds of people deserve your serious consideration: those who genuinely wish you well; those whose views are an indispensable part of your work or business; and those who stand as your equals in position, wisdom, or ability. Beyond these, you should not let anyone else become the master of your life. Do not allow every relative to comment on you or your family, or to make decisions for you. Many among them speak more than they understand; others do not wish you or your family well at all, yet because they are relatives, everyone assumes they speak from good intent. If you wish to live well, reject such relatives’ opinions even if you must stand against the entire world to do so. Decide on certain standards for your life based on the views of your spouse, parents, children, a few true friends, and genuine well-wishers. Before accepting any opinion that falls outside these standards, examine it carefully. And if you lack the time to examine, trust your own reason and conscience.
You won’t step outside because there’s a stain on your shirt? Won’t smile because your two front teeth stick out? Won’t speak because you don’t articulate clearly? If you sit silent and accept people’s criticism, will that stain vanish from your shirt? Will those teeth suddenly straighten themselves? Will you suddenly begin to speak eloquently? Why are you chaining yourself against your own nature, imprisoned by fear’s imagined disciplines? Do you truly believe those who flatter you with honeyed words never speak ill of you behind your back, and never will? Can you not even conceive how deeply these apparently loyal people might wound you? This is the way of the world. Not everyone possesses your honesty or candor. If all humans thought and acted alike, mankind would have destroyed itself long ago. If most people dislike what you do, it may well be that you are doing something no one has done before. If many speak against you, then in one sense you are profoundly fortunate—you stand far ahead in a vast queue of humanity. Turn around and look: behind you are countless others waiting to reach where you are, striving, still unable to arrive, and thus perpetually screaming. That many speak of you behind your back is simply this: you have moved ahead of them. They remain where they were—behind—spouting their nonsense from that distance.
Thank goodness Facebook didn’t exist in Tagore’s time. Had it, he would have posted the Gitanjali and immediately received comments as chaotic and twisted as the verses are sublime. Reading such filth, his mind would have splintered; angered, perhaps he would have written nothing more, and we would have been robbed of his creation. When cricketers take the field and their play falters, the spectators in the gallery unleash such torrents of absurdity at them that if the players gave it a moment’s thought, they would flee the pitch in panic! People comment on countless Facebook posts without reading or understanding them, pontificating as if wisdom itself flows from their fingers—as though unless they write something, unless they drag their donkey-nature out for all to see, they feel incomplete within themselves. What does it matter what such cheap souls praise or condemn? If you answered every dog’s bark as you walk down the street, you’d spend your entire life on that road, never reaching anywhere. And what fault is it of the dog? God did not grant dogs the ability to say hello—if dogs could greet you when they saw you, they would. So the dog, compelled by its nature, barks. But you are not a creature that barks in return. And if you were to answer a dog, saying hello would serve no purpose; you’d have to bark back. Your honor might gain or lose thereby, but the dog would be absolutely delighted.