I thought of starting this post with a quote. There are any number of celebrities, dead or alive ranging from vedantins to anarchists, churning out observations about youth. Akabarally H.Jetha, a relatively unknown industrialist with a Malabar Hill address, compiled his own reflections on life, rather the ungraspable phantom called life and I got a copy from a heap of left-overs. He says Pleasure is a poor substitute for Happiness. Indeed it is. One has to discriminate between the two on a continuous basis. Happiness stems from a sense of fulfillment. It is a feeling which can be derived mostly from practicing selflessness and cultivating love. You could be a revolutionary trying to change the world or a sanyasin trying to find its meaning, ultimately the mental make-up of both is the same. One is tuned outwards whereas the other inwards. The seemingly strange pair constantly make an effort to denounce pleasure as they know by gnosis that it is a poor substitute. They also know that it is a trap, worse than quicksand which will devour you however hard you try to escape. In fact you would never try to escape even, as pleasure seekers always ask for more. Indulgence can never be through. Is there a way-out for lesser mortals? On a plebian level the way-out does not mean abstinence, but resisting indulgence.
The Flower Children of the Seventies had everything that could make them free. They had unbiased mind, the right attitude and fearlessness. Unfortunately they didn’t have the longing. One fails to keep a constant vigil on oneself in such cases. The revolutionary and the sanyasin always hook themselves on a spear, raise it to their eye-level and look straight into their own eyes. Obviously an unpleasant exercise but a prime requisite. The Flower Children took the soft options and they avoided hard choices. One has to take pains and it may not be easy. The alertness and attentiveness required is equated to that of a person trapped in a closed room with a poisonous snake. The psychedelic drugs and philosophers who peddled anarchy provided an escape route to the seventies children and they took it, never to reach the end of the tunnel. It led them to the darkness of an “insignificant death”. They could have died a meaningful death, “as heavy as a mountain”.
The flower is destined to fall anyway.
Bottom line: If you have the rub, nurture it.
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All paintings by Rias Komu