Pritam's Blog
Living A Life Filled With The Excitement Of Losing
This doesn’t make sense, does it? How can the prospect of losing something, anything, be exciting?
Of course, it may sound like a cool philosophy if we go by Bollywood standards. But even kabhi kabhi kuch paane ke liye kuch khona padta hai (sometimes, to win something, you have to lose first) has an implication of gaining something at the end.
So, I am not referring to that at all. I mean losing in the truest sense of the word with no promise or even hope of gaining anything at all. This loss cannot be exciting, right?
One of my earliest memories has my grandpa telling me stories of his childhood in Bangladesh, where he was born and spent around 15 years of his life. This used to happen every evening after he returned from work. I would finish my homework as fast as I could and then sit with him to listen to his stories — stories of the house in Bangladesh where he lived with his parents, siblings, and a whole bunch of other relatives. He would tell me about his school, friends, the games he used to play, etc.
I, especially, liked the ones about his father, my great grandfather, who was a vagabond — a spoilt kid of a rich dad who would just roam around on his horse and compose songs. I guess a part of me wanted to be like him except that I wanted to make sketches…
I also liked the one in which my great grandfather was arrested by the British for his involvement in some protest. I remember, as a kid, every time I heard that story, a certain feeling of pride would overcome me.
Anyway, the memories of my late Daa sharing tales of his boyhood with me is something I will cherish all through my life.
Long after his death, I read his autobiography, and I realized that to him those were not just stories. In fact, even the funniest of his stories had a melancholic tone, a sentimental longing for the bygone days. After all, he had to leave behind everything in the darkness of the night and run away to a new land which he had to learn to call his home, his country. There wasn’t even a proper closure. It was so sudden.
As a kid, I wasn’t able to comprehend my grandpa’s nostalgia. My takeaway from these stories was an adventure he was part of and not his feeling of loss. I had no direct connection with his village. To me, Bangladesh was just another foreign land.
After my grandpa and his family moved to India, needless to say, that they had to build everything from scratch. He, being the eldest in the family, had to take all the responsibility. His father continued to be a vagabond (minus the wealth) for it was too late for him to embrace and accept the changes and act accordingly.
But partition changed my grandpa. Later in his life, there were times when he made uncomfortable decisions but more or less, he lived a safe life. He didn’t take many risks. For the rest of his life, the fear of losing everything all over again determined his every step.
My parents and I guess, most of the second generation immigrants resulting from the partition, inherited this feeling of loss and the fear of losing. This fear dominated every aspect of their lives. I have even seen people who never took a promotion in their life because they feared they might not be able to keep up to the expectation of the post and end up losing their job — something they couldn’t afford.
To them what matters the most is the security of certainty, if you know what I mean. From their education to career choice, to marriage, kids, holidays, and so on and so forth, every aspect of their lives should be as planned. It should be predictable.
And I don’t blame them for this attitude towards life.
For a long time, I blamed my parents for imposing their beliefs on me. For trying to decide my life and what I am going to do with it. I blamed them for sending me to an engineering college, something I was not interested in and which ruined around six years of my life…
I don’t blame them anymore. I understand that they meant well. They chose what they thought would be a safe path for me. After all, their takeaway from the intense life they had to live because of what the partition did to their parents was the feeling of loss.
Of course, I am not in a position to understand completely what my grandparents’ generation had to go through. I can only imagine… But I believe there’s another way to look at it.
There’s another takeaway.
If you could survive the partition and built everything from scratch, you have seen the worst and you can probably build it again even if you lose everything. Living a life with the constant fear of losing everything is not going to help in any way. Security and certainty are good but not at the cost of your freedom.
A few weeks back, there was a certain crisis in my life, something that had the potential to violate my sense of freedom. An action from my end had the potential to disrupt the equilibrium of my life. So, unsure of what I should do, I asked my girl.
And she said, “You shouldn’t be worrying about losing anything. You have seen the worst! You can always go through it again…”
My life has not been half as intense and zigzag as my grandparents’. But I have my own share of experiences. My girl was referring to the time I quit my engineering career and literally ran away from home with just 11,000 rupees in my account. The next two years had been the most difficult phase of my life — emotionally, financially, health-wise, and in other aspects.
Anyway, I realized she was right. I did what I had to do…
I must tell you, the possibility of losing was kind of exciting!!!
And now that the phase is over, I feel it was worth it.
This is what living a life filled with the excitement of losing is…