Aamir Khan
Akshay Kumar
Shah Rukh Khan
MS Dhoni
Sachin Tendulkar
Kapil Dev
Amitabh Bachhan
Very famous people in contemporary India! Also some of the most recognizable faces in the world. These are names that every child in our country has grown up loving, admiring, idolizing...even worshipping. They are our country’s great heroes and our biggest role models. Personalities that have excelled at their craft and reached the pinnacle of success. Some started out small and made it very big, at times with very little help and against astounding odds…the stuff that legends are made of. People who have earned tremendous fame and wealth by doing something they were really good at and loved doing. Their primary and often sole focus has been on building and demonstrating their own outstanding talent and abilities. They have been very driven individuals…driven towards achieving unparalleled popularity and wealth. Truly a source of inspiration for a country of a billion people.
Why is it that we are so inspired by people whose lives have centred around achieving fame and success for themselves, rather than by those that lived solely for the good of others? Why do we not find social entrepreneurs, inventers, doctors, writers, army generals, civil rights activists, monks and philanthropists amongst our biggest role models? Not to mention politicians…
These are some thoughts that play on my mind as I fly from one corner of the world to another on an extraordinarily long flight. It is not that I don’t have personal admiration for these personalities. I do. I have immense regard and respect for them and their unique abilities. Neither is this a lament on the current state of affairs in India, or for that matter the rest of the world. I am merely inquisitive about why our present day society values individuals with personal achievement and material success to such an extent. What does this mean for our culture and the values of our generation? What does this say about us?
If we had drawn up a list of the biggest role models in India fifty years ago, would it have looked any different? I was not around at the time, but here is my guess of possible names that would have shown up…
Rammohan Roy
Bhagat Singh
Subhash Chandra Bose
Sarojini Naidu
Sri Aurobindo
Swami Vivekanand
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
Reformers, social activists, spiritual leaders, freedom fighters…
What explains this change? Are our values different now and has our culture evolved from idolizing the selfless to worshipping self seekers?
I believe there has been a change.
The first half of the last century produced a generation of leaders that dedicated their lives towards the upliftment of India, and of getting us freedom from foreign occupation. They did this by effecting grass root change through education, empowerment, spirituality, organized protest, upheaval, as well as non-violence. They united a nation of diverse ethnicities towards a common cause. Their lives were characterized by personal sacrifice and even extreme impoverishment…and of espousing the supremacy of common good over personal gain. These people did not even possess much materially, if at all. But they left behind a lasting legacy and a nation that could hope to chart out its own destiny.
However, the next fifty years did not create any such leaders. Now that it was a free nation, our people were no longer unified by a common cause. Nor was this a land of prosperity. So along the way the society turned to seek individual gain rather than the collective good. People migrated from villages to towns and the big cities, looking for a better life. The focus was on one’s family – a secure job, roof over the head and education for the children. Somewhere I feel that we spawned a generation of people with mediocre aspirations, craving a life of little effort and average gain…not to say that there were no exceptions to this. There were several. But in general, that is how I feel about our society. The government became a huge and benevolent employer, giving opportunities to millions but not seeking any accountability for output. We produced lazy bureaucrats, negligent officers and a corrupt and criminalised political system. Even religion was not left behind and crafty godmen completed a compelling picture of a society with a gaping hole in value based leadership. Those with ambition to achieve and to live a life of relative comfort often chose to leave the country in droves…in what was famously referred to as India’s ‘brain drain’.
And for the one billion who continued to reside here… Where could we turn to for inspiration? There were always two places to look towards - cricket and films! We had one shot at global supremacy…and that was cricket. We produced world-class players with regularity and each contest carried with it the hopes of a billion expectant people craving national glory, which would rarely be forthcoming. While we had great players we were never known to be a great team, not until very recently. And so for a people starved of national heroes and tales of glory, all we needed to do was go to the neighbourhood cinema and watch the latest blockbuster. It would have all the necessary ingredients - the rags to riches story, the fairytale romance with song and dance, and the angry young man single handedly taking on the nexus of evil. This is what spawned the next set of national role models - our new idols. Cricket and film stars…who were elevated to demi-god status by an adoring and fawning public.
There are various views and beliefs about contemporary India and us Indians. Mine are one amongst them. I do not claim to have a correct explanation and I may be way off the mark. But I have not written this to invite a debate, nor to prescribe a view. These are my thoughts borne out of introspection and expressed as freely as they have arisen. Critical as they may sound, I believe them to be true. Yet, I am not at all devoid of hope…
I do believe that the wheels of our society are turning again, slowly but surely. I see a new generation of leaders emerging in the not too distant future. A generation which will be as inspirational as it will be charismatic. Which will make its mark by striving for the larger good rather than narrow, self serving interests. Leaders without dichotomy between what they preach and who they are. The Indian ethos is deep and our values are enduring. These values may not always be visible and apparent, but they exist. Sometimes I sense the manifestations of these values in interactions with people when we go beyond the superficial. At other times, I see them alive in people who live the change they wish to see… Yes, there are such people! Today they are not famous and may not idolized, but they will be in due course. And I see others who simply work quietly and without fuss, striving for a better tomorrow for our people, and without any ambition of being in the limelight. These are people who will lead from behind. People we ought to salute in a world where we have only been taught about leading from the front.
There is hope and there is excitement about the India of the future. I once heard Verghese Kurien, the man credited with turning India into the largest producer of milk in the world…father of the White Revolution of India. He expressed his dream of a resurgent India and he had no doubt that we would become a superpower soon. And he hoped that we would be a superpower with a kind and gentle face. I pray that this vision of India is true and that I get to experience it in my lifespan. I wish to contribute to such an India in my own little way. And as before, the famous words of Rabindra Nath Tagore ring in my head…
…into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
A day of celebration
March 2. A date that now has more significance for me than any other day of the year, birthday included. It is a day of acute and intense realisation. Of acknowledgement. Of bowing to the powers above. Of celebrating this wonderful gift called life...
The year was 2007. Just two years ago. It had been two months since I had returned to work rejuvenated after a four month sabbatical. Time that I had taken for reflection...and to repair the damages caused by thirteen relentless years at work which had taken a heavy toll on the body. It was an opportunity graciously accorded to me by my generous colleagues who stepped in to handle different aspects of my responsibilities so I could focus entirely on myself.
I had utilised my break well. I relaxed, read, began to exercise regularly and walked for hours along the beaches of Goa. I rid myself of unnecessary habits like smoking. I went for long drives. And I undertook extensive therapy for my severe asthmatic condition, including spending a fortnight at a holistic healing centre under the care of a renowned doctor who had treated many difficult conditions. By the time I returned to work on January 1, 2007, I was healed and rejuvenated. Entirely ready to step back and take on work with renewed vigour and energy.
So the events of March 2 came as a surprise, not just to me but also to my family, friends and colleagues who had been delighted to see me back in action.
I was on a business trip to Delhi. My wife had accompanied me this time as the upcoming weekend was Holi - the festival of colours – something we had missed celebrating for years having been away from the city. We were looking forward to catching up with our old friends. As was the norm whenever I traveled now, I exercised at the gym in the morning and proceeded for work to the office. I had a busy day ahead, full of meetings with various people. It was during one such meeting – I was in conversation with a colleague – when I started to feel a constriction in my lungs. Breathing became more laboured and I hastily ended the conversation, leaving him slightly puzzled at the abruptness with which the proceedings had come to a halt. When alone in the room, I broke into a sweat and struggled to breathe. Several puffs from my inhaler followed and I rushed out into the open for fresh air, desperately hoping for relief. Nothing worked. And finally, in a state of dizziness and asphyxiation, I stumbled into the reception and made a plea for medical help. From the corner of my eyes, I saw people converging towards me...and then I passed out. Blissfully unaware of the havoc I had unleashed around me.
Colleagues gathered around my unconscious body. One of them rushed to find oxygen. Calls were made for an ambulance. The first one to respond did not have an oxygen tank installed inside. Another call was made. I was lifted and taken down six floors in the elevator. A decision was being debated – should we wait for the ambulance or take him in a car? Will the ambulance with oxygen show up in time? Someone get a car quick!! Which is when, to everyone's relief, the ambulance containing oxygen pulled into the porch. Some colleagues jumped in. Others followed in cars. Needles and tubes were inserted to inject life into my body. I am told I fought valiantly to keep these off and needed to be forcefully pinned down to allow for the emergency treatment. The nearest hospital was a massive government institution not too far away. A call was made to my wife. She had gone to meet a close friend who had recently been blessed by twins. As I was wheeled into Emergency, a decision was made to move me to the ICU at the other end of the building. Colleagues and hospital staff ran alongside the stretcher, someone ahead paving way through the mass of people milling about so I could be reached there quickly. Another one holding up the transparent bottle containing precious life fluid. They ran a long way. And somewhere during this journey, my heart collapsed. By the time I reached the ICU, I had suffered a cardiac arrest – the breath was gone and heartbeat had stopped. Doctors put a machine on my chest to revive me. Unfortunately our public institutions are not always well equipped and the resuscitator did not start. Several doctors jumped in for CPR and with coordinated movements, they pounded on my chest. The medical report states that my heart had stopped for two minutes. The maximum it can last, someone said, was three. Finally, I breathed again.
When I regained consciousness it was past midnight and I found myself lying on a strange bed covered in a torn green sheet with needles and tubes all over my body. There was frenetic activity around me. Doctors were rushing from one bed to another. Shouting instructions at the nurses. What was I doing here?? I finally managed to get the attention of one doctor. I requested to be handed back my clothes so I could go home. I was ignored. A second attempt – more pleading than arguing now - and I was stonewalled again! No you may not go home. No you cannot meet anyone. Yes, your wife is outside. No you may not see her. STOP ARGUING!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH?? YOU HAD ALMOST DIED AND ARE LUCKY TO BE BACK. THIS IS AN ICU AND WE HAVE PEOPLE TO ATTEND TO!! SO PLEASE JUST LIE DOWN AND SLEEP. By next morning, I realised that some co-patients in beds around me were gone...
The next couple of days were a blur. I was transferred – this time in a high tech ambulance – to a private hospital in the other end of town. It took a while for me to be able to see clearly. When the fog cleared somewhat, I got to look into the mirror...and could not believe it was me I was seeing. There was a bloated face with puffed up and bloodshot eyes. The blood vessels in my eyes had ruptured during resuscitation – not an common occurrence when you are subjected to that kind of a physical assault to breathe life back into the body, as I was informed later. My doctor in Bangalore joked that I should have had a couple of cracked ribs as well.
In the days that followed, I underwent a battery of tests. Everything turned out to be normal. I could talk, walk, see and hear. My brain functioned as before. The chances of escaping unscathed from such an ordeal are slim. I was incredibly lucky to have been returned to this world in the same condition as I had almost left it. Those that had been with me through this time said it was a miracle that I was back the way I was. My colleagues – people who till then I had seen in a different life - had saved my life. And they stayed to help with whatever else my family needed. My organisation rallied to provide support. The outpouring of concern, love and care that I received was overwhelming. Colleagues, friends and well wishers called and sent messages from around the world. Friends and relatives came in and out of the hospital all the time, helping with everything from meals for my family to researching the emergency equipment I would need to carry with me once I was out of the hospital.
I often wonder what this experience was meant to be...is there a message for me? I feel truly privileged to be here on earth, and blessed to experience such love and warmth of people. I also can't help feeling that I am on a journey someplace. After all, this was not the first such experience of my life. I have had close calls before. These have shaped the way I perceive the world and my responsibilities towards others. Many things that occupied mind share have entirely ceased to matter...and others have taken their space in my thoughts. More than anything else, I feel an intense desire to make a contribution to the world around me. A desire to not waste this precious life which has been gifted back to me. I am certain that there is a purpose for my being here. A purpose beyond what is evident. And I need to find it and do justice to it. I do not feel the urge to abdicate what I have – my job, my surroundings – as I seek that purpose. I feel they are intrinsically linked to my existence. So I try to discharge my responsibilities at work with sincerity and readily undertake any work that comes my way. I feel thrilled to have an opportunity to contribute. And I don't sweat the small stuff. Not at work and not in my personal life. I look to make moments count. Moments when people approach me for help or advice. Or when I am in the presence of talented and hard working people from who I could learn. I get a nagging feeling that I have a lot to accomplish to do justice to my existence. At such moments, I turn to write so I could at least express my wishes hoping for someone out there to hear and show me the way.
The second anniversary draws near, memories come flooding back and thoughts turn inward again. I remember with immense gratitude all the people who came close to me and my family in that one moment. I hope I will be able to do for others what they did for us.
I did not get to celebrate Holi that year with my friends. Nor have I since then. But we did get to celebrate life itself...this most precious gift of God!
The year was 2007. Just two years ago. It had been two months since I had returned to work rejuvenated after a four month sabbatical. Time that I had taken for reflection...and to repair the damages caused by thirteen relentless years at work which had taken a heavy toll on the body. It was an opportunity graciously accorded to me by my generous colleagues who stepped in to handle different aspects of my responsibilities so I could focus entirely on myself.
I had utilised my break well. I relaxed, read, began to exercise regularly and walked for hours along the beaches of Goa. I rid myself of unnecessary habits like smoking. I went for long drives. And I undertook extensive therapy for my severe asthmatic condition, including spending a fortnight at a holistic healing centre under the care of a renowned doctor who had treated many difficult conditions. By the time I returned to work on January 1, 2007, I was healed and rejuvenated. Entirely ready to step back and take on work with renewed vigour and energy.
So the events of March 2 came as a surprise, not just to me but also to my family, friends and colleagues who had been delighted to see me back in action.
I was on a business trip to Delhi. My wife had accompanied me this time as the upcoming weekend was Holi - the festival of colours – something we had missed celebrating for years having been away from the city. We were looking forward to catching up with our old friends. As was the norm whenever I traveled now, I exercised at the gym in the morning and proceeded for work to the office. I had a busy day ahead, full of meetings with various people. It was during one such meeting – I was in conversation with a colleague – when I started to feel a constriction in my lungs. Breathing became more laboured and I hastily ended the conversation, leaving him slightly puzzled at the abruptness with which the proceedings had come to a halt. When alone in the room, I broke into a sweat and struggled to breathe. Several puffs from my inhaler followed and I rushed out into the open for fresh air, desperately hoping for relief. Nothing worked. And finally, in a state of dizziness and asphyxiation, I stumbled into the reception and made a plea for medical help. From the corner of my eyes, I saw people converging towards me...and then I passed out. Blissfully unaware of the havoc I had unleashed around me.
Colleagues gathered around my unconscious body. One of them rushed to find oxygen. Calls were made for an ambulance. The first one to respond did not have an oxygen tank installed inside. Another call was made. I was lifted and taken down six floors in the elevator. A decision was being debated – should we wait for the ambulance or take him in a car? Will the ambulance with oxygen show up in time? Someone get a car quick!! Which is when, to everyone's relief, the ambulance containing oxygen pulled into the porch. Some colleagues jumped in. Others followed in cars. Needles and tubes were inserted to inject life into my body. I am told I fought valiantly to keep these off and needed to be forcefully pinned down to allow for the emergency treatment. The nearest hospital was a massive government institution not too far away. A call was made to my wife. She had gone to meet a close friend who had recently been blessed by twins. As I was wheeled into Emergency, a decision was made to move me to the ICU at the other end of the building. Colleagues and hospital staff ran alongside the stretcher, someone ahead paving way through the mass of people milling about so I could be reached there quickly. Another one holding up the transparent bottle containing precious life fluid. They ran a long way. And somewhere during this journey, my heart collapsed. By the time I reached the ICU, I had suffered a cardiac arrest – the breath was gone and heartbeat had stopped. Doctors put a machine on my chest to revive me. Unfortunately our public institutions are not always well equipped and the resuscitator did not start. Several doctors jumped in for CPR and with coordinated movements, they pounded on my chest. The medical report states that my heart had stopped for two minutes. The maximum it can last, someone said, was three. Finally, I breathed again.
When I regained consciousness it was past midnight and I found myself lying on a strange bed covered in a torn green sheet with needles and tubes all over my body. There was frenetic activity around me. Doctors were rushing from one bed to another. Shouting instructions at the nurses. What was I doing here?? I finally managed to get the attention of one doctor. I requested to be handed back my clothes so I could go home. I was ignored. A second attempt – more pleading than arguing now - and I was stonewalled again! No you may not go home. No you cannot meet anyone. Yes, your wife is outside. No you may not see her. STOP ARGUING!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH?? YOU HAD ALMOST DIED AND ARE LUCKY TO BE BACK. THIS IS AN ICU AND WE HAVE PEOPLE TO ATTEND TO!! SO PLEASE JUST LIE DOWN AND SLEEP. By next morning, I realised that some co-patients in beds around me were gone...
The next couple of days were a blur. I was transferred – this time in a high tech ambulance – to a private hospital in the other end of town. It took a while for me to be able to see clearly. When the fog cleared somewhat, I got to look into the mirror...and could not believe it was me I was seeing. There was a bloated face with puffed up and bloodshot eyes. The blood vessels in my eyes had ruptured during resuscitation – not an common occurrence when you are subjected to that kind of a physical assault to breathe life back into the body, as I was informed later. My doctor in Bangalore joked that I should have had a couple of cracked ribs as well.
In the days that followed, I underwent a battery of tests. Everything turned out to be normal. I could talk, walk, see and hear. My brain functioned as before. The chances of escaping unscathed from such an ordeal are slim. I was incredibly lucky to have been returned to this world in the same condition as I had almost left it. Those that had been with me through this time said it was a miracle that I was back the way I was. My colleagues – people who till then I had seen in a different life - had saved my life. And they stayed to help with whatever else my family needed. My organisation rallied to provide support. The outpouring of concern, love and care that I received was overwhelming. Colleagues, friends and well wishers called and sent messages from around the world. Friends and relatives came in and out of the hospital all the time, helping with everything from meals for my family to researching the emergency equipment I would need to carry with me once I was out of the hospital.
I often wonder what this experience was meant to be...is there a message for me? I feel truly privileged to be here on earth, and blessed to experience such love and warmth of people. I also can't help feeling that I am on a journey someplace. After all, this was not the first such experience of my life. I have had close calls before. These have shaped the way I perceive the world and my responsibilities towards others. Many things that occupied mind share have entirely ceased to matter...and others have taken their space in my thoughts. More than anything else, I feel an intense desire to make a contribution to the world around me. A desire to not waste this precious life which has been gifted back to me. I am certain that there is a purpose for my being here. A purpose beyond what is evident. And I need to find it and do justice to it. I do not feel the urge to abdicate what I have – my job, my surroundings – as I seek that purpose. I feel they are intrinsically linked to my existence. So I try to discharge my responsibilities at work with sincerity and readily undertake any work that comes my way. I feel thrilled to have an opportunity to contribute. And I don't sweat the small stuff. Not at work and not in my personal life. I look to make moments count. Moments when people approach me for help or advice. Or when I am in the presence of talented and hard working people from who I could learn. I get a nagging feeling that I have a lot to accomplish to do justice to my existence. At such moments, I turn to write so I could at least express my wishes hoping for someone out there to hear and show me the way.
The second anniversary draws near, memories come flooding back and thoughts turn inward again. I remember with immense gratitude all the people who came close to me and my family in that one moment. I hope I will be able to do for others what they did for us.
I did not get to celebrate Holi that year with my friends. Nor have I since then. But we did get to celebrate life itself...this most precious gift of God!
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