Who Is My Maker?

My mother had a turbulent pregnancy to say the least, she was unable to keep anything down for a good six months. My great grandmother would make her fresh passion juice, however only after she had offered it to God and prayed for a few hours at least. The silver glass would sit covered in the temple, as my great grandmother chanted away – it was only then drunk by my mother. It is no wonder that I became a devotional singer, it was poured into me from when I sat in my warm cocoon. Then there are the stories of my uncle bringing boxes of fruit, another uncle making my mother sweetcorn, my father giving her ice cream, and the list goes on. Being the first baby of the family there was much fuss and glory over my arrival into the world. Similar to the Royal Family (scoffing), I too was born in the Lindo Wing at St Mary’s Hospital – however when I was born, I was greeted by over ten Indian family members. My mother was horribly embarrassed to have so many people there to see her in her ‘gown’ as she put it. And from there life began. 

As much as I would like to regurgitate a few hundred stories of my specific lifeline, I do not wish to bore the reader, nor further any narcissistic tendencies I may already possess. What I do wish to highlight however is that you are not merely a product of two people, you are raised by everything and everyone that comes your way. The process of becoming is one of constant unfoldment. It is a layering of thoughts, ideas, convictions, prejudices, and passions. Some may be negative and others positive, but for the purpose of this piece, we will focus on the sanguine. 

My mother has taken to ‘what’s apping’ (the favoured method of communication for Indians, statistically true!) family and friends about anything that involves me in the spotlight. The messages back to her are fairly personal (I usually get ignored). Often someone remembers something that involved them and myself at a younger age. As we grow older we tend to forget, we become consumed in ourselves and in those who are immediately around us. The memories lie dormant in the back, like a childhood book of ours in the attic. As they should really, the number one rule of any spiritualist is to be wholly present and in the moment. If we were fussing over the bygones we’d never progress. Yet, there is something acutely powerful about bowing down to each person that has influenced you, big or small. If you imagine yourself without body and just as pure energy, where do you begin and where do you end? As other energies drift towards you, what defines the end of them and the beginning of you? It is impossible. We are touched in perpetuum, differing colours of conscious spirit lacing its way through our being. If this sounds too ‘airy fairy’ for you, just use your own common sense, and logic ought to tell you the same. 

What is my point? We live in a world where we are divorcing ourselves from one another. As technology increases and the amount of information we consume per a minute speeds up, so does our perception of time. Life is racing by. We also live in a world where relationships are increasingly fickle, commitments hard to come by, and love is measured by its convenience. It is worth taking a moment to remind ourselves of the sacrifices others made that lead to the concept of ‘I’ and ‘me’. I live in a world, where to garner a few 100 likes on social media I really need to put a photo up of myself. Should I put anyone else with me, it will tumble down the popularity poll. Yet the fabric of my DNA hold the many faces of humanity. It is important nay vital for our mental health to serve ourselves with a dose of humility. It is no good believing in God, nor is it is necessary, if we haven’t learnt to acknowledge the other. There is a reason Hindus put their hands together to greet someone else, it is you and I, this life is a ‘we’ and an ‘us’. 

One method I have been using to engineer this mode of thinking, is to recall without attachment, of those who have stirred my soul over countless years. Those who have left this Earth, like my grandfather who gave me his entire Encyclopedia collection which led to an obsession for world knowledge which manifested in a long standing subscription of The Economist. Another way is to focus on what you can give to another rather than merely receive. When you see someone, anyone, remind yourself of what they have gifted you with in the past, like my uni mate whom I rarely meet but pulled me through my Quantitative Economics exam, or the person who gave you a night you'll never forget. Most people you will find have contributed. If you’re thinking to yourself, I recall what people have done for me all the time, you really don’t (just trust me, I don't have the stats). It is occurring to you (and myself) now because we are talking about it. Yes it's a we, even though I'm the writer and you're the reader, but we will save that existential theory for another day.

Thanking others, honoring others, shouldn’t just be saved for the Oscar speeches in the bathroom, the funerals and the anniversaries. It also shouldn’t be saved for just those you love the most - they probably know it, the man downstairs who opens the door for you, likely doesn't. It should encompass everyone. 

We have countless makers, we are the sum of all the people who stepped up to shape us. Our successes have very little to do with just us as a person, they are a culmination of effort that began long before we arrived. And, they continue on in every moment we pass with another. When you are cognizant of this, you realise that you are both everything and nothing at all at the very same time – that is freedom, and you will relish it.