My Bleeding Wounds

Since childhood, I have been living two parallel lives in two very different worlds. In one world, there was joy, happiness, and fulfilment sourced from my childhood, family life, academic success and professional achievements. And in another world, there was nothing but sorrow flowing from human miseries, animal suffering, and pain plants suffer when they are chopped (I even avoid walking on the grass). I have been fighting relentless battles to pacify my inner torment and sought to know the nature of my suffering and, more importantly, find means to soothe my tormented soul.

I read Buddhism as well as other Eastern philosophies, Abrahamic religions and scriptures, and science. I devotedly watched documentaries on the natural world.  There are four things that touched me the most: the lives of spiritual men, the plant and animal world, science, and self-discovery. They all came together as if they were pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and made me see the world in a new dimension.

I became aware that men and trees are no different. All living species are descendants of trees. Just as a seed defines the whole tree, an embryo in a mother's womb defines the whole man. A fundamental belief among men is "free will". Most think it does exist, but I believe the opposite. Most men believe that the future is in their hands to shape. I say, the past, present, and future all coexist. We live a forgone life.

It pains me when men say they are superior to animals. Men define things as right or wrong, good or evil. I perceive that they are inseparable; they are intertwined and sustain each other. Men think they know truth and are infallible. For me, a man, his thoughts and actions are merely pieces of a cosmic jigsaw puzzle. One cannot attain peace without pain. Like light and shadow, suffering and bliss are intertwined. They sustain each other.

Some years ago, our youngest son, Mahtab, was visiting me in Perth. I took him for breakfast at my favourite brook-side café. As usual, the father-son conversation revolved around philosophy.

Mahtab said, 'Abbu, you see life from various angles and in many dimensions.'

'Yes, I try to. I would love to know how you see me.'

'You see yourself as a plant and then you also compare your life to a river whose course is guided by the natural forces, including the rotation of the earth on its own axis. You even see yourself as a bubble floating on an ocean at the mercy of the cosmic forces.

'You believe in genetic inheritance. The genes a life carries come from the ancestors and that there is no such thing as free will. From a different angle, you also say that we are characters from a fictional story that's brought to life. I imagine the notion of being fictional liberates you from free will, defeat and pain.'

'That's the idea, but pain is the only thing I failed to free myself from.'

'You also talk about two parallel worlds equal and opposite to each other. An evil man in this world is a saint in the other.

'And then you've got your theory of zero-sum game. What does it mean?'

'It means that everything has its opposite such that when one sums all things up it adds up to non-existence.'

'Does it then mean that when you attain peace, it results in pain elsewhere?'

'You got me there, Mahtab. I must not, therefore, seek peace but learn to suffer.'

'But, Abbu, I don't want you to suffer all the time thinking that it would free others from pain.'

'Yes, I know. Yet I wonder what it would be like to bear the burden of all living souls even for a moment.'

'Shall we order?'

'Yes, we might as well. Hmm! I think I know.'

'Know what?'

'How would I feel if I had to bear the pain of all suffering souls.'

'I don't want to know, but you might as well wrap it up.'

'It would be like being at the core of the Sun at fifteen million degrees Celsius. I would vaporise instantly before I'd feel anything.'

'But, Abbu, you are the sun, the moon, and the whole universe. You are the source of pain and joy and sorrow – everything.'

'How come?'

'Because once you said that there are only two things in this universe: a man and an invisible mirror. So, wherever he looks, he finds his own reflections in various shapes and forms.'

'You are a witty son of a naive father!'

Mahtab bursts into laughter, startling the surrounding guests in the cafe.

I have come to realise that life is a mystery. The only thing I know is that I suffer. My suffering is like an ember that dwells in the depth of my soul. It is like a hot, molten lava bubbling beneath a dormant volcano. The things I say are truth and untruth, holy and unholy, and piety and blasphemy, all at the same time. I do not mean to offend anyone. All I have been doing, all my life, is to find a way to soothe my tormented soul.       

In life, the most fundamental question is: How does a plant know which colour, fragrance, and taste will attract bees, men and animals? The answer is: the same attraction that draws infants to their mothers' milk. Like Tagore's Bolai, I have always been drawn to plants. I feel their texture and smell their leaves, flowers, and fruits.

I love nature – a flowing river, a rugged mountain, a sandy desert, and the night sky. Of all, I adore a rocky mountain the most, and, I know, the mountain loves me in return. One may ask how does a lifeless mountain love a living species. This is because the mountains and men and animals and plants have all been together eternally. We are connected by a long, continuous, unbroken chain. When we love something, like a mountain, it reciprocates. Why? – Because there is nothing in this universe that does not have a soul, for the Creation is the Creator's manifestation in different shapes and forms[1]. We hurt rocks when we forge tunnels or level it to make roads[2].

I am now 75 years old, biding my time. My day starts with The Daily Star. I then go to the apartment rooftop for my walk. I look at the plants and birds: sparrows, shaliks and crows. They bring me joy and make my life full.

I think about a lot of things, including where we are heading as a nation. Unfortunately, I do not see hope for a lasting, stable democracy – a peaceful country. The new election will bring either a new government or one of the past ones. The cycle of corruption, violence, hate, anger, greed, and selfishness will continue. If things had not changed since the birth of Pakistan (1947) and then Bangladesh (1971), why would it change now?

So, what would work?

What we need is simply a man – just one man, a private man without title, fame, power or wealth. A man who is above life's temporal and mundane things. We need a man who loves his country; a man who loves his countrymen – both good and 'devil'. A man who is prepared to sacrifice his life for the worst of us and love him, protect him and guide him.

Does such a man exist among us? I'm sure he does. Unfortunately, the politics dictate otherwise, and those who want to grab power, wittingly or unwittingly, misguide people for their own gain.

My wounds will continue bleeding until and unless we find a messiah of our own.

[1] Humayun Ahmed, Himur Rupali Ratri, Gyankosh Prokashoni, Dhaka, 1998.

[2] Australian Aboriginal forty-thousand-year-old belief.