[Draft] Ripe Cucumbers Show the Way!
Atul told Larry, “Those who take what belongs to other, they forfeit their ability to drop away from the plant of life like a ripe cucumber--the ultimate way to leave one's body."
Cucumbers with Anxieties
Sometimes exhaustion speakss more effectively than words ever could; Larry was worn out. And he noticed that Atul quickly discerned his state of body and mind. Larry consistently mispronounced Atul's name as A-tool, making Atul feel like a mere tool in Larry's eyes. When Atul brought this up, Larry joked that he wasn't using Atul as a tool but rather likened all of them to cucumbers: "9/10ths of cucumbers is water; we're essentially cucumbers filled with anxieties."
Larry's remarks always left Atul both puzzled and intrigued. The cucumber analogy didn't sit well with him—out of all the fruits and vegetables, cucumbers? Come on.
Nearly a year had passed since Larry had made that intriguing statement, and Atul feared that the narrative he had constructed around that particular remark would grow stale if left unattended. Accidentally stumbling upon a short documentary about a recently deceased philosopher served as a wake-up call for Atul. He felt compelled not to let his ideas stagnate. He wished for his ideas to dissolve and disperse without any lingering regrets, unlike the departed philosopher.
Atul revisited some of the insights he had gleaned from the documentary:
"I merely continue to exist and await! Waiting to bid farewell. Contemplating death on a personal level, rather than in theoretical terms, can be quite unsettling. What purpose does it serve? Why would one desire to prolong life? I have had my fill; why monopolize finite resources for one's own contentment... let others indulge in the material life and learn the limitations of a life of incessant apsiration for material possessions."
Ailing Parents in America
Atul could sense the gradual departure of winter and the warmth both externally and internally. A sense of settlement was taking root within him. The urge for closure led his thoughts back to a conversation he had with Larry.
"Larry, would your parents accept the gift of immortality? Would they like to live forever?"
Reflecting on a short documentary about a philosopher had provided him with a new perspective on this very question. He was surprised to realize that he had posed the same inquiry to Larry regarding his ailing parents. The day when he could discuss such eternal themes with one of the most meticulous minds he had encountered in this realm of duality and trinity—much like how India was the realm of the fourth way—was drawing near.
Those who harbor such desires, akin to the deceased philosopher, often lack profound experiences of self-effacing love. They feel a sense of absence, yet what they seek to fulfill is categorical in nature—something that, if left unattained, would render their life meaningless, rather than simply a desire to persist.
We are not afraid of death itself; rather, we fear dying in a manner that burdens others.
Death represents one of the most fundamental and unavoidable assaults on one's agency. Recollections of the dialogue from the movie 'Troy' and Achilles' observation about the reasons why gods envy humans flickered through his mind.
“Do Gods come to experience tradeoffs induced by the finiteness of human lives vicariously by interacting with humans?”
One of the consequences of ignorance is that we balk at the idea of taking life away for those who are way past their use date.
New Kids in the University Town
A perenial cycle was once again in offing.
College Street—the main artery of the Old University Campus, was closed to assist the older generations to bring the new ones, help them get initiated into the world of real others—other independent, hard to predict, entities.
There was hope and excitement in the air; the babies were hatched, and some would fall off from the nest high on the tree and others might fall holding the veins of ivies and creepers; adolescents ready to spread their wings and take stock of the world around them to examine their self-worth.
Precautions had to be taken; even the University Shuttle, called the Oriental Express by the locals, not the natives, given the number of Chinese and South Asian in the bus, had to be put on a different route. The space needed to be created for the new souls in the city.
Just imagine adults of the university and the city not making space for these kids—where would we place our hope in our incessant search for the relative or absolute truth?
Some say death—those who are born are bound to die. But there is less certainty about what is it that die? Death and frailty were on Atul ’s mindscape while he watched the melee around him. The recent deaths of one figure that had coaxed him to think and think about his own thinking Nobel Laureate V S Naipaul. Atul was in awe with ability for detailed observation and his sharp intelligence but found it hard to square that with his calculated and careful racism.
With these thoughts Atul kept looking out of the window of his car at hopeful faces walking around in their tees and their shorts. Summer was in heat in the process of incubating autumn, and he heard people already talk about the spread of the colors of foliage all around the New England area.
Parents were on a different time paths—cautiously happy for the hopes and apprehensions of their progenies. Most were in their SUVs, waiting to move into sportier versions once kids are all gone and are on their own.
Conversation with Larry
Atul had been meticulously crafting his research paper over the past two years, and now it was time to discuss it with Larry, his esteemed colleague. Upon arriving promptly at Larry's door, Atul found himself face to face with his mentor, whose arms extended in a half-hearted gesture of greeting. However, on seeing no such gesture in Atul prompted Larry to pull his hands back and instead offer a formal handshake.
Observing Larry's subtle body language, Atul couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for not being more attentive to the nuances of their interaction. Unlike many, Atul hadn't grown up accustomed to exchanging hugs with elders, and his instinctive reverence for Larry only added to his hesitation. In Atul's eyes, Larry embodied a guru-like figure deserving of utmost respect—a respect that had been hard-earned through years of dedication and integrity.
For Atul, the key to earning such reverence lay in maintaining unwavering consistency between words and actions—a principle he held dear. In contrast, Larry stood out like a saint amidst a sea of crooks—individuals who acted without understanding the consequences of their actions. Though well-intentioned, these "crooks" lacked the self-awareness to comprehend the impact of their decisions on others. Living with a misguided sense of certainty, they unwittingly posed a threat to those around them, oblivious to their own moral ambiguity.
As Atul prepared to delve into the complexities of his research with Larry, he couldn't shake the feeling of being a disciple in the presence of a sage. Yet, beneath the surface of their professional relationship lay a profound respect tempered by the realization that integrity and self-awareness were the cornerstones of true reverence—a lesson Atul would carry with him long after their meeting had ended.
Growing Deeper Roots in America
Larry had just come back from Dallas after taking care of his old and frail parents. His parents were in the business of making Texan boots, and they got into this business pretty late. Given their backgrounds—his both parents were academia initially—Larry had always asked them why the hell they would leave Boston and go to Texarkana to start a boot factory. For Larry’s parents the 60s and 70s taught them how unhinged Americans were, they needed to be tethered to their roots and their roots needed to be taken further down in the ground. “What could be better than doing it through the love for the Texan boots that those on the extreme right have,” they would argue. Once they were done with Texas, they moved to California—a liberal bastion that needed some tweaking to help them be more grounded. [expand on it] They would always say, “Larry, look at the proportion of people hooked to stupid drugs and alcohol.”
Larry looked a little at loss. He was still working on the paper that he had promised to get done more than a few months back. Atul was now more sympathetic to the demands that life made on us; even if it is not by others, it takes time to collect the scattered mind to get anything done. And it was getting even more difficult with so many gadgets had made inroad in our lives. It was becoming clear the world soon would dichotomize into those with good self-control versus the ones with poor self-control. Larry was so deeply aware of the working of his own mind that it took him by surprise when he realized how late he was in giving feedback on the paper to Atul .
“How are your parents doing?”
“Much better, much better, thank you for inquiring.” Larry was in the habit of repeating some of his sentences to make them sound more impactful, a practice he had learned after reading about Buddha.
“Good to hear that. How old are they?”
“My dad is 89, a few months shy from his 90th.”
Atul’s thought immediately went to his mother who died at a young age of 68 after being sick for almost 7 years.
“Wonderful, it’s always nice to get close 90s. One of the Upanishads suggest that one should live until 100.”
Larry inquired if Atul could recite the saying in Sanskrit. Atul felt a surge of excitement at the opportunity to recite a Sanskrit sloka from his family heirloom, the Isopanishad.
कुर्वन्नेवेह कर्माणि जिजीविषेत् सतं समाः |
एवं त्वयि नान्यथेतोऽस्ति न कर्म लिप्यते नरे… ||kurvanneveha karmāṇi jijīviṣet sataṃ samāḥ
evaṃ tvayi nānyatheto'sti na karma lipyate nare…‘In the world, one should desire to live a hundred years, but only by performing actions. Thus, and in no other way, can man be free from the taint of actions.’
Atul liked that Larry had his eyes closed while he was reciting the shloka, and started to talk about his father.
“Well, he is getting there. He is a tough guy; but, he is struggling. When he was moving to Cal from Texas, I was a little irritated. I was asking him to move closer but he is maddeningly driven to help America grow its roots deeper.”
“I sort of agree with him. That’s wonderful. What is he doing?”
“He is helping college students live with older folks without any one around to take care of them. And he works with the university to subsidize tuition and lodging for these students. It was while helping one of the students with her move that he fell on staircase while moving a trolley around. By the time he was taken to the hospital so much blood had leeched into his brain that he had strokes, and after the blood was removed by the natural biological process, he started to get seizures.”
“Will he stop getting those seizures soon? One of the faculty here at Yale in the department of neurology is working on brain sensors to provide constant feedback in order to prevent seizure.” Atul paused and sensed that what he said about his acquaintance developing a brain sensor was just not needed; he was filled for a moment with sharp self-loathing for making such redundant statement, and how idea escaped his mind again giving him a sense that how little control he had over his own mind. Such nonvolitional existence, uttering pointless ideas, more of a filler and largely pointless always saddened him.
“That’s what they have done. He walks around with a cap fitted with electrodes that monitors his brain activities.”
“Do you have any sibling?”
“Yes, a brother and we two have been alternating between us taking care of our parents, and there are other family members who too are pitching in.”
Larry’s Mother and Her Fears
The real challenge has been my mother. She just does not trust strangers. She thinks that they would steal things from her apartment.” Larry just didn’t know how to convince his mothers to let strangers—her masseur, cleaners—come in the apartment. Without them it was difficult to make arrangement to get them the help they need to live a hassle-free life. Between him and his brother, Zack, it was becoming difficult to manage emergencies, they cannot possibly fly around addressing now frequent exigencies—it was clear that these regular and unexpected coast-to-coast flight had started to take toll on Larry.
“Are they living in nursing home?”
“First, they were in the hospital after my dad’s fall, then in a rehabilitation center, and now they are back at their home.”
“Do they live together?” Atul knew of families where parents were not living together anymore.
“Yes, they are together.”
“Nice, it is important; loneliness is turning out to be a bigger killer than smoking and other chronic illness.”
“Nice that they live in their own home. There are many incidences of abuse at nursing homes. Taking care of older people is an art, and that’s something we just are not very good at.
Larry agreed with Atul, “People never used to live for that long and those who did, they had their families and the extended families to take care of things.”
“Yes,” Atul felt a little emboldened with Larry’s comment. That was the perfect opening to bring some of his esoteric ideas in front of Larry.
He was now ready to bring the topic of Sallekhana in the conversation. Atul wanted to ask, “Larry, have you come across this institution among Jains? Sallekhana?”
Larry however was not done yet. It takes some practice to get used to Larry’s idiosyncratic way of putting his ideas across—he was in the habit of talking in perfect long paragraphs with carefully chosen words.
“Yes, that’s exactly my dad has been working on for past 10 years. He thinks that helping college students live with older folks would help both. The experience and knowledge that the healthcare workers are interfacing with need to be passed on to younger minds evolutionarily wired to store and process such knowledge. The healthcare workers are there for their paychecks and the commodification of the elderly care leading to destruction of the chains of knowledge that helped humanity to transcend so many limitations.”
Realizing that Larry was not going to indulge him in conversations about the Jain’s practice, Atul changed the topic.
“Have your parents come in terms with their mortality?”
“More so than other Americans. They are not very religious, so they are not worried about the final or judgement day or reincarnation.”
“I think I am not in as bad a situation as many other families facing in this country. I think the most tragic ones are the ones who lose their memories—the ones with Alzheimer. Watching one’s parents losing their memories, their identity while alive is most tragic thing that can happen to a family—a functional body with no mind.” Larry by then had closed his eyes and was at one with his words with crow feet around his eyes deepening with each word coming out of his mouth like fusillade.
“For 24x7, we have a caretaker for my father. My brother and I are paying out of our own pocket. We are still figuring out how to help our mother.”
Volitionally Leaving One’s Body
“Would you help your parents end their lives, if they request you to?”
Larry had not expected that question. He didn’t know how to react. He sat in his chair quietly with his eyes closed with crow feet around his eyes gaining a body.
“I don’t know. I hate the sound of it—assisted suicide.”
“Can you suggest that to your parents?”
“My dad was keeping himself active for 2-3 hours a day before his fall. He has been cognitively super fit until his fall a month back.”
“But his fall in itself suggest that his cognition was not working well. However, if he regains his cognitive ability fully, he can practice letting go of his body.”
“What does it mean—the letting go of one’s body? Larry didn’t like the idea much.
Atul ignored Larry’s annoyance lest he lost his train of thoughts.
“One way could be to arrange them to get massage regularly by someone who practices loving compassion mindfulness meditation.”
Larry was intrigued. He motioned Atul to continue:
“The idea of being loved during the old age is to help person empty their desires and their cravings. Once that is gone, it is easy to leave one’s body at will.”
“What’s the possible mechanisms?”
A Story from the South of India
"I, too, have had that question. Then one day, I met an Indian man on the Metro North train to Boston. That man told me a story from the South of India that I had never heard of," Atul said. After empathizing with Larry, Atul got lost in the story, while Larry, with a smile on his face, tried to experience what Atul was experiencing.
"One day, there was a big celebration at a center built around a famous guru. This guru had many very famous disciples, so the celebration was lavish, and people from all over the world had come—branded cars of all kinds were parked for miles.
An unkempt man in unwashed, tattered clothes also showed up at the gate. The gatekeepers stopped him.
The disciple told them that he, too, was a disciple of this guru, that this guru had trained him too. He had come to give his guru-dakshina (repaying one’s guru for the knowledge bestowed by him). Since the guru never asked him after the completion of formal education, he decided to give it to him anyway on his 80th birthday. Though he looked a little tired, there was an uncanny shine on his face. The gatekeepers felt his spiritual aura and let him in.
When the guru saw him, he recognized him immediately.
“Look at all the gifts brought by your disciple-brothers. I cannot refuse them as they have all brought them out of love. What have you brought for me, my son?” the guru mildly joked with him.
“I, too, have brought something for you.”
“But you don’t have anything on you. What will you give me, Shiva, my son?”
“I want to gift the rest of my life to you.”
As soon as Shiva uttered this sentence, he fell to the ground and died. His guru then realized that Shiva had gone beyond the knowledge of his teacher. He got up and put Shiva's dead body on his seat and asked all his disciples to worship him as their guru.
“Shiva just demonstrated what I had only read in scripture—he left his body exactly as the highest souls (Mahatmas) are said to have the capacity to leave their bodies. One of the finest mantras, the Mahamritunjya Mantra, says that one should live in a way that he leaves the world as a ripe cucumber leaves the creeper. Shiva left exactly like that. Let’s all chant the mantra 108 times.”
Larry thought about it for some time and said, “This reminds me of Epictetus and Rabbi Hillel.” Intrigued by Larry’s response, Atul requested to Larry to tell him more about these two characters that he had not heard of before.
The question for Atul was how much faith one should put on such story; though, the person he heard the story from he didn’t have any reason to lie. Atul believed that one should always be skeptical as there were so many people believing in all kinds of stories and tethering their sense of self on these stories, trapping themselves in.
Larry was deep in thought after listening to the story. “Why do you think Shiva could develop such capacity to leave his body at will?”
Atul was expecting that question. “I don’t know for sure. My intuition tells me that it has to do with one’s capacity for love.”
Larry looked visibly irritated, “Atul, you know that the statement you just made is not quiet scientific. What is love?”
Atul responded taking Larry’s irritation in stride, “Love is when others become the source of your happiness, and your own state of well-being is non-contingent. When watching others do well make you happy, then you should know that you have experienced deep love in life. And these people who start to develop capacity to leave their bodies at will.”
Atul was not done yet:
“Also, those who take what belongs to other, they forfeit their ability to drop away from the plant of life like a ripe cucumber--the ultimate way to leave one's body.”
Atul continued:
“Larry, I am curious about something. When you go and meet your parents, do you touch them lovingly, like massaging their hands, feet or heads, beyond hugging them when you meet them? In India, even the norm of hugging parents is not there.”
“I don’t. Why?”
“I think you should try. That might make your mom a little less afraid of strangers.”
A year later Atul received call from Larry. He was a little apprehensive when he saw Larry’s name popped up on his cell’s screen. Larry had never called him before.
“Atul, my mom called me today and suggested that I help her get a masseur. One can never be sure about the causal pathways, but I decided to put your suggestion to use and had started to give head and foot and hand massage whenever I met my parents.”
Atul felt a surge of ecstasy within, “Larry, I am so happy to hear this. You just made my day. I sincerely believe that what we are missing is such rites, rituals, and norms to express our love for others. Do you know what the etymological root of the word ‘Free’ is?”
“No, does it have some Greek roots?”
“No, it’s a Sanskrit word ‘priya’ which means love or beloved. Without love, the idea of freedom is vacuous.”
Larry was quiet and was eating something.
“What are you eating, Larry?”
Letting a muffled laugh escape him, “Atul, I am having some raw cucumber, not yet know how to deal with the ripe one.
”Atul could see the feet of the crow around his eyes grow into a full-bodied crow and flew away with Larry’s mind leaving him happy and content.
.
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[….TO BE CONTINUED]
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Disclaimer: Nothing I have written here is set in stone. I am putting these ideas to start a conversation and bring people to discuss and debate the issues captured here. Give me feedback, and it will help me learn. I will keep updating this article.