LISTEN

As a little boy extremely sure of himself, Senior would talk continuously about everything with enviable surety. No matter what the topic was, within two lines of beginning a conversation, there’d be an abrupt interruption. “Wait, wait, wait ammi! I know what you’re saying.. I know everything! No, no - you are wrong, I am right! Wait! I’m going to tell you.. Mujhe sab aata hai.. Mujhe sab pata hai. You don’t know. I will tell you.. wait, wait..!”

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When he was five, it was hilarious. When he was eight, it was amusing. When he was twelve - it was not. By the time his teens hit, through multiple parental interventions, he’d calmed down a bit, still sure of himself but open to listening, engaging and discussion. Especially when we did not agree. 

Being a parent has taught me more about listening, about empathy, about patience, about dissent. For the first time I understood self-doubt. Up until then, consequences were always safely distant from my actions. But now, I had to consciously behave in the manner I expected my chief dependent to behave in. And I truly felt the power of doing unto others what one expects them to do to me.

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The world we now live in - where everyone is SO sure of their truths frankly unnerves me. 

I don’t know how to operate around it. 

I’m unsure of how to be 100% sure of anything that I’ve not lived myself. How can I presume why the farmers are protesting or the struggles of someone suffering from depression unless I listen with patience and respect?

I am a frog in my own pond. Even if I grow wings and start flying, I will not become an eagle, I am still a frog in my own pond. 

But the surety of voices around me is unsettling. As I watch people cutting each other’s lines, amplifying their own voice to crowd out other opinions, rushing in to judge without a thought to alternative opinions, I feel a surge of pity for the many lost opportunities for us to have learnt from another’s opinion.

There’s a 1993 Indian blockbuster film called Tirangaa, where the anti-hero Nana Patekar famously states “Apna toh ek hi usool hai. Pehle laat, phir baat, phir mulaqaat.” Which means ‘I follow only one rule - Kick first, talk later, meet after.’

I was so impressed by the machismo of this thought. 

"How cool is that..? Take that, you! Oppressor of goodness, irritant of hero, kick first, talk later!" Many years and humbling experiences later, I am embarrassed at my gullibility. 

Recently, I saw a legendary cricketer endure a whole day of character assassination for a comment he made about the current cricketing idol and his gorgeous actor wife. With understandable agitation perhaps but without pausing to listen to what was said & relying on hearsay/twitter happy news, the intelligent spouse in question has also responded with fury that now seems entirely misplaced. What if we check facts before we make up our minds? And listen thoughtfully before designing a counter-attack?

Like an orchestra with many musicians playing different instruments together, life is us - all of us - with different voices living together. Musicians play in harmony, sometimes waiting for their turn, listening in for their cue to begin, and between their individual playing and pausing, beautiful soul stirring music emerges. 

Imagine if they all began whenever they felt like it, triggered if they didn’t like the sound of the other. Imagine the noise, the ruckus that would follow! Think, about what we’re doing to the symphony of life, when we refuse to listen and rush to state what’s on our mind.  

So… Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. Lend your ears to those who don’t dance to your tune, sing your song, who don’t echo your voice. Listen, there is a reason we have two ears and only one mouth. And a brain right in between to filter and process.

Listen, to whispers, to uproars, to silence, to the symphony. Listen, and the music will be worth it.