The definition of 'baggage' according to Oxford dictionary goes something like this:
"Noun - 1. Suitcases and bags containing personal belongings packed for travelling; luggage; 2. Past experiences or long-held attitudes perceived as burdensome encumbrances"
And the definition - with its 'encumbrances' making it complicated when it could have been simpler - reflects, exactly, the theme of this post.
Our uncontrollable urge to complicate simple things!
I still remember those days in my fourth and fifth grade when my mom would beg me to leave behind a few textbooks and notebooks at home, not being able to tolerate the lump-like bulge that my bag would assume by the presence of books pertaining to the entire syllabus inside it. I, being a very obedient and studious (surprisingly!) student then, would refuse to leave behind even a single notebook, however unimportant it may be for the day's classes.
As the years passed and the 'private-van' journey to my school became a 'government-bus' journey by the time I reached tenth grade, I had no other go but to leave behind a few books that were unnecessary. The obedience and studiousness still remained intact but the indignant remarks from the passengers in the government buses, especially women in their forties (you would expect them to be the most compassionate, but beware, they can be the most menacing) at the sight of a fat school-bag, frightened me more than the threats of my class teacher and so were left behind a few books.
The transformation from a calm and sincere 'front-bench' boy in the tenth grade to a mischievous, troublesome 'back-bench' boy in the eleventh grade still baffles me, as it did my teachers then, but it did provide relief to my shoulders - my bag had become considerably lighter with just the main subject textbooks and a single notebook that sufficed for all the subjects as against the earlier norm.
And now, as I am in the final year of my college, I very rarely do carry a bag to my class. A long sized notebook that serves all purposes except that of taking notes, a blue ball-point pen at the end of its life, a mostly empty or sometimes a single ten-rupee note carrying wallet and a college identity-card with one of my most horrible pictures - these are the only objects that accompany me to my class.
As I think about the gradual reduction of the baggage forced around my shoulders with my educational evolution, I just can't help thinking about the emotional baggage that seems to have kept growing with the same.
And the problem doesn't seem to be just mine. It seems to be a problem shared by almost all of my friends.
Any regular college guy would be extremely delighted when one of his friends asks him to accompany the friend to the canteen, agreeing to take care of both their expenses. And when one of my close friends at college asked me to accompany him to the canteen in a very similar way, I was more than happy and accompanied him to the canteen. But it was only at the canteen that I came to know that the 'treat' had had a deeper motive - he had wanted to talk about a very personal problem of his.
And we have had about 4 such 'treats' so far and it pained me on every one of the three occasions after the first one, for two reasons - He never allowed me to pay and took it all on himself and secondly and more importantly, I was unable to provide him with a proper solution to his problem.
His problem was not one that was unresolvable. But the one thing that he had to do to solve it was something he found the most difficult - to talk his heart out to two of the closest people in his life who had now become the cause of a problem that was handing him over sleepless nights.
And again, this problem doesn't seem to be just his. It seems to be a problem shared by almost all of us.
All of us have that one close person in life with whom we share almost everything sans any inhibitions and a few people who have problems with sharing some delicate issues even with that close person, tend to maintain a personal diary or a blog, perhaps, and spill their hearts out - like I do (but I sometimes seriously think over as to why is it that I share things so readily on a blog when I find it difficult to share them even with a close friend and the only logical explanation that makes sense seems to be a psychological disorder!).
But very little do we realize that the real explanation and the real 'pouring-out' needs to be done with people with whom we complicate things and not, as we tend to normally do, with our best friends for whom just a sheepish smile after a meaningless fight suffices or even worse, our diaries and blogs.
About four months back, when I had stayed at one of my uncles' home during my semester vacation, unexpectedly had erupted a very huge fight between my aunt and my uncle, one evening. I had sat down on a chair silently, not knowing what to say or what to do. And as I kept fighting within my mind, trying to plot a plan as to stop their fight, my three year old cousin who had walked in from a neighbor's house came up straight to her parents and silently staring at their fight for a few seconds, pulled at her mother's saree and said bluntly - "Amma, ennaku romba pasikuthu. Vanthu dosai panni kuduthutu apram appa kuda kathu" (Mom, I feel really hungry. Make me a few dosas and then continue your shout-out with father.). Having said this, she walked away to the bathroom to wash her face. And about a few seconds of staring-at-each-other later, all the three of us burst into laughter.
I had been breaking my head to devise a strategy for about fifteen minutes to stop their fight, but my cousin had ended it by two simple statements of hers.
This tendency of ours in our childhood to speak things out blunt and frank, for some reason, slowly seems to diminish as our life advances. The reason might be a better understanding of life. The reason might be the realization that not all our views need to be expressed. The reason might be the belief that some things are best left a secret.
But whatever be the reason, it just doesn't seem to be making things easier.
Its probably time that we stop complicating life in the name of maturity.
And its probably time that in addition to looking with awe at a child's ability to recite a rhyme and gaping in wonder at a child's artistic attempt at drawing a home, we start learning some of life's most important lessons from its very simple actions.
Children, if observed carefully, can teach us more about life than we can ever possibly teach them about.
"Noun - 1. Suitcases and bags containing personal belongings packed for travelling; luggage; 2. Past experiences or long-held attitudes perceived as burdensome encumbrances"
And the definition - with its 'encumbrances' making it complicated when it could have been simpler - reflects, exactly, the theme of this post.
Our uncontrollable urge to complicate simple things!
I still remember those days in my fourth and fifth grade when my mom would beg me to leave behind a few textbooks and notebooks at home, not being able to tolerate the lump-like bulge that my bag would assume by the presence of books pertaining to the entire syllabus inside it. I, being a very obedient and studious (surprisingly!) student then, would refuse to leave behind even a single notebook, however unimportant it may be for the day's classes.
As the years passed and the 'private-van' journey to my school became a 'government-bus' journey by the time I reached tenth grade, I had no other go but to leave behind a few books that were unnecessary. The obedience and studiousness still remained intact but the indignant remarks from the passengers in the government buses, especially women in their forties (you would expect them to be the most compassionate, but beware, they can be the most menacing) at the sight of a fat school-bag, frightened me more than the threats of my class teacher and so were left behind a few books.
The transformation from a calm and sincere 'front-bench' boy in the tenth grade to a mischievous, troublesome 'back-bench' boy in the eleventh grade still baffles me, as it did my teachers then, but it did provide relief to my shoulders - my bag had become considerably lighter with just the main subject textbooks and a single notebook that sufficed for all the subjects as against the earlier norm.
And now, as I am in the final year of my college, I very rarely do carry a bag to my class. A long sized notebook that serves all purposes except that of taking notes, a blue ball-point pen at the end of its life, a mostly empty or sometimes a single ten-rupee note carrying wallet and a college identity-card with one of my most horrible pictures - these are the only objects that accompany me to my class.
As I think about the gradual reduction of the baggage forced around my shoulders with my educational evolution, I just can't help thinking about the emotional baggage that seems to have kept growing with the same.
And the problem doesn't seem to be just mine. It seems to be a problem shared by almost all of my friends.
Any regular college guy would be extremely delighted when one of his friends asks him to accompany the friend to the canteen, agreeing to take care of both their expenses. And when one of my close friends at college asked me to accompany him to the canteen in a very similar way, I was more than happy and accompanied him to the canteen. But it was only at the canteen that I came to know that the 'treat' had had a deeper motive - he had wanted to talk about a very personal problem of his.
And we have had about 4 such 'treats' so far and it pained me on every one of the three occasions after the first one, for two reasons - He never allowed me to pay and took it all on himself and secondly and more importantly, I was unable to provide him with a proper solution to his problem.
His problem was not one that was unresolvable. But the one thing that he had to do to solve it was something he found the most difficult - to talk his heart out to two of the closest people in his life who had now become the cause of a problem that was handing him over sleepless nights.
And again, this problem doesn't seem to be just his. It seems to be a problem shared by almost all of us.
All of us have that one close person in life with whom we share almost everything sans any inhibitions and a few people who have problems with sharing some delicate issues even with that close person, tend to maintain a personal diary or a blog, perhaps, and spill their hearts out - like I do (but I sometimes seriously think over as to why is it that I share things so readily on a blog when I find it difficult to share them even with a close friend and the only logical explanation that makes sense seems to be a psychological disorder!).
But very little do we realize that the real explanation and the real 'pouring-out' needs to be done with people with whom we complicate things and not, as we tend to normally do, with our best friends for whom just a sheepish smile after a meaningless fight suffices or even worse, our diaries and blogs.
About four months back, when I had stayed at one of my uncles' home during my semester vacation, unexpectedly had erupted a very huge fight between my aunt and my uncle, one evening. I had sat down on a chair silently, not knowing what to say or what to do. And as I kept fighting within my mind, trying to plot a plan as to stop their fight, my three year old cousin who had walked in from a neighbor's house came up straight to her parents and silently staring at their fight for a few seconds, pulled at her mother's saree and said bluntly - "Amma, ennaku romba pasikuthu. Vanthu dosai panni kuduthutu apram appa kuda kathu" (Mom, I feel really hungry. Make me a few dosas and then continue your shout-out with father.). Having said this, she walked away to the bathroom to wash her face. And about a few seconds of staring-at-each-other later, all the three of us burst into laughter.
I had been breaking my head to devise a strategy for about fifteen minutes to stop their fight, but my cousin had ended it by two simple statements of hers.
This tendency of ours in our childhood to speak things out blunt and frank, for some reason, slowly seems to diminish as our life advances. The reason might be a better understanding of life. The reason might be the realization that not all our views need to be expressed. The reason might be the belief that some things are best left a secret.
But whatever be the reason, it just doesn't seem to be making things easier.
Its probably time that we stop complicating life in the name of maturity.
And its probably time that in addition to looking with awe at a child's ability to recite a rhyme and gaping in wonder at a child's artistic attempt at drawing a home, we start learning some of life's most important lessons from its very simple actions.
Children, if observed carefully, can teach us more about life than we can ever possibly teach them about.
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