A Matter of Trust

“Trust in me, just in me, shut your eyes and trust in me” – Python Kaa in the Jungle Book

 

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”

― Ernest Hemingway

But then what if trust itself is a quality that is distant and foreign? To some it is. By quirk of what one may call fate, I have come to be acquainted with a man who does not trust even his shadow. It was shocking to hear him say that he does trust neither his wife nor his children (who are in their adolescence and teens). He feels that they may be waiting for him to die to corner his wealth. Why and for what he needs his wealth once he is gone is a mystery kept close to his bosom! But, the thought process that prompted such an observation seems hard to comprehend. He is so distrustful of people around him, that he deftly and often crudely plays his associates and employees against the other. His way is that he has everyone so mistrustful of the other that they spy on the other not being aware or sometimes regardless of the fact that they are being spied too. He runs his organisation in such Machiavellian way, which inbreeds shenanigans. As it is the natural law outside physics that every action permeates down to consolidate and react in certain way that we call natural or cosmic justice. So, the man oblivious of the fact that his distrust of even his shadow keeps him sleepless and always glancing backward over his shoulders, continues to survey his domain. While the malicious ones at his feet thrive in his frailty.

 I guess it was in the language class in college- that the professor who taught me my optional language Malayalam was a keen and erudite person who had the uncanny ability to paint like an artist the essence from the works of great poets of yore and recent history. I vividly remember him once lecture in his inimitable style a couplet from the play “Shakuntalam”,wherein the great bard sketches a stag deer deftly using its antlers to remove a tiny niggling piece of alien speck from the doe’s eye. The doe in absolute trust abandons herself in bliss and gratitude to the stag that she knows he can never for a moment waver and let his antlers pierce her eyes in the process. The sublimity of faith! Trust among spouses, man and woman which in this fast paced impersonal world is a premium!

In moments of great stress and distress when madness fleetingly envelops I wonder of the piety of trust. Should I be a python Kaa or the Stag? Perhaps it is easy to trivialise trust when it is once breached. It is not just promiscuity and morals related to that I refer to. Unfortunately trust and morality is seen only synonymous with sexual conduct.

But then is not trust something that can be felt only when it is abandoned? The intensity of trust can be known only when the pain of breach is manifested? It  can be truthfully said, “I’m not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.”

Passion

 

How passionate one can be in what one does?

I look around and feel awed by some –friends, business associates and just some others we know in public life. And I find myself lagging far behind. I do not want to hide behind the apron of excuses and frivolous reasons. I have been less severe in what I do. Has it not been a less than cent percent of energy, effort and dedication? Yes it has been. I do not know if I could not grab or latch on to what I love doing most. Nevertheless I have been less devout. I can recall the same story from my days as a student – school goer and later at the university. Am I made up so? Alibis as I mentioned are not what I intend to seek.

I have been watching the thirteen part episode of Carl Sagan’s “Cosmos”. A faithful exercise I indulged in every Sunday morning in the 1980’s when the insipid Doordarshan quite astonishingly aired it as soon as it was released worldwide. Later the book “cosmos” was added into my prized possessions. I was inundated by the personality, passion, knowledge and sheer eminence of Carl Sagan the astrophysicist. He wrote and narrated the episodes and each word he uttered overflowed with emotion and sincerity .Though he succumbed to a strange variant of  leukemia at a relatively young age into his sixties, I gather that his was a life lived to the brim relishing in doing what he loved most-“ gazing at the stars”. 

A friend I admire and respect is among the top rung officers in the Indian Army. And I still am dumbstruck by his sheer will and dedication. His maniacal aim and purpose of getting into the army saw him dedicate himself solely for the rigours of the Indian Military Academy. Though from a Spartan family he was unnerved by perhaps a less understanding folks and succeeded in his aim. He has been exemplary in the service and I do not think there is many such one in his breed who are honest, upright and dedicated to one’s profession. He loves being in his boots. And he has I’m sure a couple of more notches to traverse in the hierarchy of the armed forces. He is now a Brigadier.

A business associate and friend I have known since almost two decades, his wife confided in me when I met her in Blore a few weeks ago that she feels utter ennui during his long absence from home on work but she feels happy that he enjoys what he loves most .He himself asserted that he will unstring his boots the moment he feels alien to what he does. An honest, sincere and no push over, he brims with absolute knowledge and mastery over his arena.  A person who can articulate with admirable powers! And, as appreciation of his caliber and dedication, have come to him the unquestioned faith and approval of his boss who seldom stretched his neck into his domain. I have not come across many others who brim with confidence as he.

These examples are just a few that came to my thought. It is tiresome to see people needing a reason to do things in life they love. Come on do it because you want to, it is fun , it makes you happy.

And there are others who crave and long to do what they love most. But the sheer guts to plunge into seem absent. The result is frustration and unpleasantness of the mind. The beckoning may not visit from outside, it has to come from within. It is the fear of the future that restrains. The commitments that are supposedly put forth as alibis and lame reasons are mere aprons to hide behind. They quibble when confronted. And with such people, I feel the misery is accentuated and life is sulking.

Dirty Dancing

Man is a fornicating species. Many in the animal kingdom are, except some species of avian. Well can we accept promiscuous behavior blaming it on natural predisposition? In any case marriage and morals were founded by society and imposed on us. Will it be proper to admit that we need not be compliant to what is from outside?

A colleague of mine is so obsessed with sex that he is wildly promiscuous and has no inhibitions to explain and revel in his exploits. He muses that on judgment day it is such wonderful indulgences that stay behind as happy memoirs. Sometime it exasperates, and at times I sigh, what a fancy life he has that which I only can dream of.

I was at a dinner at a business associate’s house and the group was pretty small too. The day before to the dinner night, I was introduced to this woman called L who I met again there. She was with another fellow in his thirties who was introduced to me as her brother-in-law. L was dressed in a short skirt about knee length and in a scoop neck tee shirt. She was not beautiful as beautiful can be, but had the oomph and was splendidly endowed. Admittedly I was fascinated! We were sitting in the garden verandah of the elegant house. She was pretty gay and full of fun. Leaning over towards me she poured another glass of vodka and I could see her titillating cleavage that was well exposed by the scoop neck tee she wore. Modesty forced me look elsewhere though the visuals stayed in mind. She asked me to join her for a dance to a number being played on the stereo. I was timid and swore that I was not able to tango. She went ahead with the guy, her brother- in- law. They held one other close and tangoed to a number. After the dance she jumped and sat on his lap straddling her arms around his neck.

 I observed all that with titillating pleasure and timidity. She was provocative, I felt and he was relishing it. She came and sat opposite me to have another glass of vodka. My eyes were roving and furtive. She moaned again, “Come on A, be a sport and dance with me”. She forced me by the hand and I clownishly did a sort of motion with her. She danced close to my body and often touching or rubbing her body on me. I was coy and was not used to such public display of rollicking.

I mused when I was on my way back that night ,L was equally at ease with me , the colleague who accompanied me, the guy who was her brother-in-law and the gentleman host. Perhaps was I stupidly thinking with some ridiculous notion? Was I obsessed with the idea of fornication, that a societal gesture of a woman was misunderstood? Was she wantonly being provocative? If a woman shows such physical closeness to her brother-in-law can the man be restrained from not reading or misreading the cue or even indulge in incest?

I thought of the colleague who exults in his prowess and keeps the number of women he has had relationships with. And, I smiled thinking of a good friend of mine who has the special knack with women and he certainly was the man for such tango and fun, not this boring, insipid timorous me.