I grew up in a generation where it was still possible to believe in things that we could not see. In the innocence of our minds, as long as we could imagine something vividly, we could believe it. And so, we believed in many things that this generation may not be able to.
We believed in God, in creation, in the sanctity of the universe. We were enchanted enough by our worlds to believe that this world was God's masterpiece, and that He had created it with great love, dedication, and care. We believed in such a God. Just like Balamani in Nandanam.
We believed in the power of relationships. In our relationships with people, with the earth, with the seasons, with other creatures, we saw a meaning beyond what was evident. We were capable of befriending trees, rivers and birds, and converse with them. Just like Ammini in Aranyakam.
We believed in the value and merit of our roles in the world. We imagined our versions of an ideal daughter, son , parent, spouse, friend, student, employee, citizen, or human being. We took our roles very seriously, almost as if the world depended on it. Just like Raghavan Nair in Valsalyam, Sudhakaran Nair in Udyanapalakan, or Padmanabhan Nair in Sneham.
The truth is that our beliefs compelled us to look beyond ourselves. We perceived ourselves as part os something larger, something that was mysterious, magical, and sacred. There was no logic to these beliefs, but these beliefs helped us create meaning. They made life worth pursuing, simply because we believed in miracles and possibility. In those days, we did not have to be the CEO of a company or a social media celebrity to live an extrarodinary life. A Balamani, Ammini or Raghavan Nair could lead extraordinary lives simply because they believed in something larger than themselves.
Of course, a by-product of this was that we could also fall prey to superstition. We could believe in ghosts, yakshis, quacks, and astrologers. It is true that the line between the rational and the irrational, the sane and the insane, is thin. Nevertheless, our innocence, imagination, and our ability to believe in something larger than ourselves, motivated us. Our dedication to our social roles and responsibilities helped us find meaning in life. These beliefs protected us from depression.
Over the years, the Balamanis, Amminis, and Raghavans disappeared, and were replaced by aggressive, competitive creatures that thrive on information. Human beings lost the ability to believe in something beyond themselves; they lost the ability to believe in miracles. The innocence receded from our minds, and our imagination no longer led us to something meaningful. You could be wealthy, you could be famous, but what is the point if you cannot believe in miracles? What is the point if your identity is no longer rooted in the authenticity of your roles and responsibilities? Wouldn't depression be our inevitable destiny? Unless we can weave all our cognitive faculties into a coherent unit that is meaningful, we will lose motivation. Logic has its place, but unless we also develop all our other cognitive faculties and create a repertoire of helpful beliefs that connect with the philosophy of life, we are doomed.
No comments:
Post a Comment