Beautiful Heart

 Beautiful Heart

 

Whether it’s the VUDA Park in Visakhapatnam or the HUDA Park in Gurugram, or the Buddha Garden in New Delhi, these days, it’s a common sight to see a group of elderly individuals laughing heartily, shaking hands, and exchanging words that seem monotonously vapid. It may appear to be a sad imitation of laughter, a guttural vocalisation lacking any genuine inspiration. However, these activities are merely contemporary trends, and there’s no need for value judgments. If we wouldn’t criticise the fashion choices of stylish youths, such as their frayed jeans and jelled hair in spikes, for fear of being considered old-fashioned, why should we object when older individuals laugh so resoundingly in public?

That’s not my point at all. I don’t have to object to what our senior citizens do to escape their boredom. But it pains me to see they are being taken for a ride. ‘Do this bit of yoga, and your backache will disappear’, ‘Do that breath control, and your heart ailments will pass you by like early morning yawn’, ‘Drink saline water through your nostril to live longer’, ‘Rub your nails to regain your lost teeth’ and so on. Imagination running wild, I won’t be surprised if tomorrow, one blue-robed expert comes forward to claim that life can be prolonged by probing the nose with the tongue or that libido can be reinforced by guzzling urine!

I know I will be sadly outnumbered if I ever make it an issue, yet there are occasions I have voiced my sentiments about this. Result: I am sharply reminded of the fact that the science of yoga is the gift of India to the world and urged to feel ashamed for the lack of Indianness in me. ‘Don’t you know India had originally invented all those technologies presently patented by Western nations? Say, our Pushpak Viman is now their aeroplane, our Brahmashtra is now their ballistic missiles, our mythological Vishkanya is their cloning, and so on.’ Hearing such xenophobic rhetoric, I can’t help but be amused. I contemplate that if I were to challenge them to expand the list of Indian scientific contributions appropriated by the West, they might easily include the likes of Viagra!

I vividly remember encountering trouble once because, out of my genuine concern, I helped someone unsolicited. I chose to rush there, finding her life in danger. It was merely my common sense, the best way anyone could react on the spur of the moment. But then, at the end of the day, it appeared as though my intervention was uncalled for, unnecessary, and disgraceful. I was branded a spoilsport who brought disgrace to not one but a whole community of people.

It was an April morning in Delhi, with pleasant coolness accentuating the end of the chilly winter. Parks had started to attract more joggers and yogis, even at five o’clock in the morning. Lodhi Garden, ever so sought after by fitness enthusiasts, was no exception.

Twenty or so yogis sat in half-circular rows facing a master yogi under a Gulmohar tree. The master was not a saffron-clad yogi as one would guess offhand, nor an all-white bearded fellow; he could be another person of your neighbourhood, calm, clean-shaven and dhoti-clad. His disciples were of mixed genders but mostly above sixty, and their stamina did not match their enthusiasm. They were seated on the Belgian grass, spreading their scanty woollen mats that hardly accommodated their varied positions such as squatting, standing on heads, suspending their bodies parallel to the ground while resting on palms, bending half circle, etc.

The master yogi started his speechification.

‘Glory thou to lord almighty. Glory thou to the soul of souls, the super consciousness, the being of beings,’ the yogi opened his eyes. Then, addressing his disciples, he continued, ‘Today I’m going to teach you something that Yangnabalkya, the great sage of the days of yore, taught his worthy disciples. With this, you can walk on water, fly like birds, lie levitated in the sky, and so on.

‘My worthy disciples, you must be aware by now how much power lies hidden in human beings, just between your navel and the chest, and all you are required to do is to stoke the powerhouse for the ultimate arousal of super consciousness….’

While jogging past the group, I overheard the esoteric discourse. It seemed the master yogi was expounding his version of anatomical science. I wondered if he truly understood the intricacies of human anatomy. Between the navel and the chest lie numerous vital organs such as the pancreas, alimentary canal, and kidneys. Yet, which among them is the paramount organ to which the master yogi refers? Could there be anything such as ‘the powerhouse’ in our body that would make a human gravitation-defying?

These days, numerous master yogis and therapists, drawing inspiration from ancient texts, assert their ability to alleviate the afflictions that accompany old age, affecting our muscles and neural pathways. However, I must pose a candid question to myself: are they truly qualified? How many of these therapists and yogic masters have engaged in the dissection of cadavers to understand firsthand the placement and function of these bodily structures? Some self-proclaimed godmen even encourage individuals with severe mobility impairments to walk before them, pushing them to exceed their physical limits. While these individuals may momentarily achieve a sense of accomplishment, they often exacerbate their condition due to improper handling of their limbs. How can faith, cultivated through such public spectacles, facilitate true healing unless the underlying physiological issues are addressed by informed interventions? These reflections brought to mind the audacious claim of a therapist in Hyderabad who purportedly cures asthma by having patients swallow live fish.

Indeed, the ubiquitous social media and all-powerful search engines have made us doctors without a degree!

It took me a cool seven minutes of brisk walking to return to the same spot. The stultifying discourse was still on, but soon, there was a change: the yoga master began inviting questions from his disciples.

Disciple: What kind of food can help us achieve the lightness of our body?

Yoga master: Drink milk, and you will have a spiritual body. A spiritual mind lives in a spiritual body.

I didn’t linger to hear more from that Q&A session. What I had heard already sparked a barrage of questions in my mind. ‘How can milk be considered safe for everyone, especially considering widespread lactose intolerance? Is milk truly a vegetarian food, or is it composed of the dead cells of the cow?’ These thoughts swirled as I walked on. Ever since reading a newspaper report revealing traces of bovine blood in supplied milk, I had stopped consuming it altogether.

I pondered further as I continued my walk, lengthening my strides for another round. ‘Whether the milk is extracted mechanically or manually, the cow’s owner relentlessly drains her udders until every drop is obtained, showing no concern for the need of her calf. This overexploitation often leads to udder damage and ruptures.’ With these reflections, I concluded that milk cannot be considered pure today, especially when production is augmented through hormone injections.

It was my seventh round of brisk walk and the penultimate for the day. I had already slowed down and started enjoying the beauty of the landscape. The manicured lawns were wet, and doves had perched on them to grub out their worms. The lush green foliage reflected the day’s first sun and the surroundings were full of birds’ twitters. A few had started their homeward steps at the end of their daily health outing.

Soon, I reached the yoga assembly. Now, the master delivered his last round of discourse, and the subject matter was transcendental meditation. According to him, one is said to have reached this blissful state when his physical activity stops: the heartbeats, the metabolism, the thinking, and the sensation. One could achieve that in many ways—whatever method might prove helpful in individual cases—by taking the soul proximate to the supreme soul and concentrating on the godhead, through extreme happiness of laughing, with love and sex and so on.

I went past him, but the words continued to ring in my ears. ‘There is no dearth of ways to achieve the ultimate in the spiritual domain, and having sex is one among them!’ I amused myself at the thought of this. ‘How steamy! Day in, day out, we receive so many spams in our e-mail inboxes offering us advice to increase the size of our organs,’ a trace of a smile flickered across my face as I speculated that the spammers were probably out to achieve the same goal as that of the transcendental meditators through their intimate grasp of Kamasutra.

The final round brought me closer to the assembly once again. All the participants let out deafening guffaws. Apparently, this was the last item of their physique-spiritual session.

Oh my god, what was it that I saw? An elderly lady, the most beautiful in the gathering, pressed her chest and slumped. I was in no doubt that she was now down with a severe ailment—maybe it was a heart attack. I rushed to the venue to offer my help.

The master sat unmoved. He started speaking loudly, pronouncing it word by word for effect.

‘My devoted disciples, what you people are presently witnessing occurs but very rarely…only people with a lot of spiritual power go to trance, and the old lady has gone into that. Let us pray.’

Then the master started to pray, and all the rest sat silently looking at his radiant face.

‘Almighty, what a miracle you did to us, what a blessing you showered on us. We’re still burdened with births; eighty-four lakhs of such births have gone just like that with nothing to glory in. And now you’ve blessed this old lady and all of us through her…’

The prayer was instantly composed but chanted in a familiar pattern of notes. The master appeared to be a smart songster who could confidently take the dais with the most gifted practitioner of vocal music.

I was almost clueless for a second. Suddenly, remembering what was once taught me in my first-aid classes, I sprang into action, reaching out to the lady lying on the ground and feeling her body. It was still warm, but there was no breath. The heartbeats had also ceased, and it was clear that Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) had to succeed if the lady was to be revived.

The elderly woman lay unconscious, her mouth agape. I shook her shoulder gently, calling out, ‘Are you Okay, ma’am?’ receiving no response. Quickly assessing the situation, I knelt beside her and cradled her head in my left hand, tilting it to ensure her airway remained clear. With a firm grip, I gently lifted her chin to open her airway, preparing for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Pinching her nostrils shut, I covered her mouth with mine, providing a rescue breath before swiftly transitioning to chest compressions. Placing my left hand between her nipples and stacking my right hand on top, I began compressions, pushing down nearly two inches while maintaining straight elbows. With focused determination, I administered thirty compressions, carefully counting each one. Immediately following, I returned to mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The cycle continued seamlessly, though time seemed to blur as I repeated the sequence of five breaths and compressions.

Wow! The kiss of life was a success! The old lady started to breathe. I urged somebody from among us to immediately take her to the hospital. Only then did I realise that I had not revealed the cause of my action. So, I announced to the group that the old lady had a heart attack.

‘No, how dare you say it was a heart attack?’ the yoga master bellowed. Exercising his authority as the guru of all the elderly disciples, he continued, ‘This pious lady cannot go to any hospital. She was in a trance, and that’s the fact. Now let’s touch her feet.’

All present there came one by one to the old lady and touched her feet. Then, the yoga master came to deal with me.

‘Oh, mister, you shouldn’t have touched the old lady when she was in a trance. You’re responsible for cutting her unique spiritual experience short.’

‘Master, let’s be honest to ourselves. You’re going to kill her, and it was me who saved her,’ I replied.  After a pause, I continued, ‘I’m going to the police to file an FIR against you. You’re the most irresponsible fellow on earth.’

The yoga master smirked. ‘Don’t you know a retired Inspector General of Police is in this group of my disciples right here? Rather, I’m going to file a case against you for molesting the old lady.’

The yogi carried out his threat. The next day, I was taken to the nearest all-women police station for interrogation. I could not figure out the crime arithmetic codified into the Indian Penal Code, but they were all slammed on me. The considerate policewoman explained that they were for obstruction, molestation, defamation, quackery…and all of them with common intention. My dear old lady, now with a partially damaged brain, would not be able to come to my rescue, so I was only too sure the law would take its course.

Bhubaneswar

17-02-2008