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Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs is often felt most acutely in the spiritual realm, which was indeed the original intent. Scores of businesspeople, high-flying executives, and newly minted entrepreneurs have embarked upon the spiritual quest, although in sheer zest. And why not? If your EMIs are sorted, children are settled, and key relationships have achieved an equilibrium state, becoming esoteric is acceptable, if not warranted. With micro-cultures and niche-sects proliferating at the rate of digital outreach, one is never short of choices, and after all, India was the original land of saints. There’s a mould for every kind, ranging from the experimental to the dogmatized. Except that most have embraced this new charter as a task by itself, laced with quarterly targets and miracles.
Last evening, on my flight to Mumbai, I happened to sit next to one such evangelist. It was the rare sight of a book that piqued my interest. A polite inquiry revealed that she’s been a Buddhist disciple for the last eight years and has some miracles to substantiate the claim. The book was dog-eared, profusely marked, read a good number of times, and did offer insights on the principles and practices of Buddhism, aimed at the uninitiated. My self-education through the book was interrupted with a canned discourse on the merits of the philosophy and how it’s the shortest path to achievements in life. My co-passenger didn’t waste time in reducing the two-millennia old spiritual practice to a means of manifestation, embellished with her life’s triumphs. At one point, she claimed, ‘I am the proof that it works,’ and I was short of a rebuttal. Who am I to argue?
Thankfully, the discussion digressed to the more materialistic topics (though most of the exemplary manifestations so far were of the worldly kind). The common suspects being work and family, with their usual expletives like traffic, bosses, kids and media. As in immigrant from the capital to down-South, my newly discovered spiritual leader wasn’t impressed by Bangalore’s safety, civic sense and even weather. She launched herself on what all is wrong with South and South-Indians, much to the chagrin of our fellow passengers, who were, thankfully, neck deep in their OTT web. Within moments, both her complexion and that of the discussion swung from niceties and the uber realm to a long list of what’s not working. Right from the sun not sufficiently shining, to the banal climates, worsening travels, excessive dependence on apps, and a general sense of apathy among the citizenry, the list was indeed long and well curated.
We were barely 20 minutes into the conversation, and I was already feeling guilty of having tolerated the city for over two decades, almost made responsible for its present predicament, and even senile with regards to my career choices and parenting style. The civilian monk was a distant past, and now I was confronted with a victim of social unjust. Every question posed to me was another excuse for making a point, and feeling good of oneself, which remained unmitigated even with an above average spiritual vocabulary.
Finally, the air hostess came to rescue, offering me the pre-booked, and now much needed tea and I got busy with chewing up my book. My curiosity got the better of me on this occasion, the real culprit being my weakness for books and vanity of learning it all. Such close encounters of the third kind, especially in the economy class, can be lethal, but alas Bangalore- Mumbai remains a 75-minute affair on most days, and this one was well after the Indigo’s infamous debacle. I survived the spiritual onslaught, left wondering how superficial, conceptual, piecemeal knowledge can make one more dangerous than the uneducated kind. Such over-confidence, masqueraded as enlightenment, especially when one is financially well-off, isn’t easily shed. It requires a face-off with an equal adversary, preferably from another camp, and then sparks fly.
Hope that in your spiritual pursuit you aren’t losing common sense, good co-passenger etiquette and an ability to look outside the window (pun intended) to what life already has for you. By the way, the ever-seeking kind had least interest in the literature at my hand, let alone my native understanding of her adopted domain. A gentle reminder of not being a spiritual egotist and to stick to your book.
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